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The reasons for the so-called documentary boom that occurred at the beginning of this decade and is continuing to this day, albeit in a slightly weakened form, have provided the subject of much debate amongst film theorists, historians, and cultural commentators alike. Yet so far, no single unifying ideological or aesthetic reason for factual filmmaking’s sudden popularity has been agreed upon. Although it eschews socio-political reasoning, my theory is simply that Michael Moore, with his key films ‘Bowling for Columbine’ (2002) and ‘Fahrenheit 9/11’ (2004), stumbled upon a type of documentary filmmaking that was viable for a mass audience, which in turn opened the floodgates for other like-minded directors. Like him or not, Moore’s films struck a chord with mass audiences and were the first factual films to do so on a large global scale. Although his politics and the promotion of his own views within his films may always leave certain viewers sceptical (Moore himself has always been careful to call his films ‘factual entertainment’), his style of directing initially gripped a wide multiplex visiting audience. In recent years, this trend has settled comfortably into the art-house cinemas of the world, where documentaries still form a large part of cinema bills even though their mainstream popularity may have dissipated slightly. One of the more fanciful reasons theorists offered for the public’s sudden taste for factual filmmaking was a post-9/11 quest for truth, as if the always rather unbelievable plots of Hollywood blockbusters were suddenly seen as tasteless and unnecessary in the light of such real-life horrors.
If this theory is indeed the case, then ‘Man on Wire’ (2008) is a fitting film from which to analyse the last gasps of the documentary boom, as throughout ‘Man on Wire’, those two huge American symbols of Western commerce, the World Trade Centre towers, figure heavily in its factual narrative. It concerns the efforts of tightrope walker and acrobat extraordinaire Philippe Petit’s attempt to walk on a rope strung between the two towers in 1974, shortly after the structure’s completion. While the film never engages with politics in any form, the now absent towers figure just as heavily in the film as Petit himself, and almost recalls Andy Warhol’s Empire in casting such a major American architectural landmark as a ‘star’ within a film. This is no mean feat, as Petit himself is such a hugely engaging presence, a natural born entertainer whom you suspect has told this amazing story thousands of times and was probably just as animated even without film cameras pointed squarely at him.
Formally and stylistically the film employs the many now familiar tropes of documentary film and television production- talking heads, reconstructions, and archive footage, all often overlaid with multiple soundtracks and musical montages evoking period-specific passages. Obviously with the actual event taking place in 1974 there is a distinct lack of actual footage of the climactic tightrope walk. While plenty of handheld Super 8 footage of Petit’s preparations is used liberally throughout the film, the actual event is constructed from photographic stills. This barely matters, and if anything gives the event a more mythical quality, serving as a timely reminder of how far society has come in the way we access moving images using several media. If such an event had taken place today, it would have been on YouTube within the hour, and filling up Inbox’s worldwide within a day: people would have looked on in amazement then moved onto the next video that caught their eye. However, this being the pre-media-saturated 1970’s, those lucky enough to be passing by as Petit took to the early morning skies felt genuinely lucky, and eyewitness accounts of the policeman and city workers are suitably breathless and filled with amazement. Meanwhile the reconstructions are, thankfully, extremely tasteful: they’re rendered in a kind of flickering black and white that recalls the magical luminosity of silent filmmaking. Although ‘Man on Wire’ is English born director James Marsh’s first foray into documentary, he had already proven himself to be a formidable fiction film maker (if not exactly an auteur) with films such as ‘The King’ (2005) and ‘Wisconsin Death Trip’ (1999) under his belt. In lesser hands, or a director schooled in the world of factual TV direction, reconstructions of events such as Petit’s team’s first forays into the towers may have been unconvincing and hackneyed, but Marsh clearly has a love of film as a distinct medium which is lucky given the lack of actual footage of key events.
The other area in which Marsh’s directing is to be commended is that of narrative, and once again his success can be attributed to his pre-schooling in the world of tight narrative fiction filmmaking rather than any other medium. One concern before viewing this film is how a story about what is essentially a one-off stunt of which there is virtually zero actual footage can actually be made into a feature length movie that still grips and entertains audiences. Marsh’s answer is to use tried and tested Hollywood narrative formulas to structure the story around. He also gives the audience credit in assuming that we already know what Petit achieved and so refers to it fairly early on. As in fictions films that open with a tantalising glimpse of the ending that they then work towards, the actual main stunt is alluded to from the very beginning while other strands such as Petit’s life story - interviews with him and his friends, and footage of their preparation - is skilfully woven in gradually rather than presented in a linear fashion. Granted, the running time of almost exactly 90 minutes (once seen as standard fiction film length) may suggest that a bit of padding was done to make the film seem cinema worthy, but this is never really noticeable as the twin act of Marsh’s subtly masterful direction and Petit’s sheer force of personality keep the film ticking along at an engaging pace.
Aside from the creative direction and Petit’s presence, one of the films other main appeals is its rogue’s gallery of supporting characters. The crew who surrounds Petit and help him pull off what he calls ‘the coup’ resembles some kind of fictional screwball heist movie set-up, a gang of disparate (and occasionally desperate) chancers thrown together for ‘one last big job’. His group are mostly hippies- stoners, musicians, and deluded businessmen seemingly bored by life and so sprang into action to help Petit realise his improbable dream. One such accomplice seems incredulous when asked during the making of the film whether or not he would have been stoned on the day of the tightrope walk- why wouldn’t he have been, he reasons, as he smoked weed every day for 30 years? Information like this makes the fact that they pulled the stunt off seem even more charming and inspiring. The group thankfully isn’t averse to seeing comedy in the situations leading up to the walk. One carefully reconstructed scene sees Petit, and an accomplice trapped under a tarpaulin for an inordinate amount of time, staying perfectly still for fear of a security guard who may or may not be creeping around mere centimetres away from them. Also present throughout most of the film is Petit’s childhood sweetheart Annie Allix. Although she never fully understands Petit’s obsession with the World Trade Centre Twin Towers, she never comes across as a nagging girlfriend, the way a Hollywood treatment may have cast her. She is supportive yet puzzled as Petit approaches the stunt, awestruck when he pulls it off, but strangely accepting as she is cast away straight afterwards. The movie hits an uncharacteristically sour note when Petit reveals that, following his tightrope walk, he slept with a groupie in America and quickly left the ever-faithful Allix, but if anything this moment serves to remind the viewer that this is indeed still a factual film we are watching rather than some fantasy story of wish fulfilment, such has been the dream-realisation feel-good feel up until this point. Seriously, the only setbacks Petit and his gang seem to suffer are minor comedic ones, and the passage of time has probably rendered them even more amusing to the protagonists.
With most popular documentary films, and certainly Michael Moore’s efforts, the inevitable question of whether or not the story is fabricated or dramatized rears its head. In this case the answer could well be yes, but for once it really does not and shouldn’t matter. Michael Moore’s politics and their representation on film are constantly under scrutiny because his films are unquestionably political- they take a clear stand on thorny issues. His targets, such as the Bush administration and gun culture, are often so far reaching that his scattergun deranged-yet-entertaining stylistic mode seems necessary. ‘Man on Wire’ on the other hand tells a simple, entertaining story in a much more classy and charming way. Compared to many other popular documentaries the films tasteful use of black and white and subtitles makes it appear as a charming small budget labour of love rather than some raging polemic. Also, as I write this, the Western world is going through a major political shift towards optimism following Barack Obama’s election as US president, an undoubtedly pleasant move for the left-leaning world, but one that could see Michael Moore and the like’s firebrand style of filmmaking rendered redundant. If this is the case it’s hard not to feel enthusiastic that charming, tasteful, and inspiring documentaries like ‘Man on Wire’ may replace them. On the whole the films outlook, like Petit’s, is one of innocent wonder, and it avoids any political engagement. Even a sour note in which it is revealed that as a result of the stunt one of Philippe’s co-conspirators is banned for life from the USA is laughed off: Philippe himself became something of a hero and was let off the rather flimsy charges of trespassing provided he put on a free tightrope show for local children. Which brings me back to 9/11- such an optimistic approach to the narrative means that this issue is ignored. Admittedly it wouldn’t have added anything to the narrative and at worst may have come off as tasteless had some big deal been made out of the fact that these iconic buildings that so enraptured Petit are no longer there, but at least a fleeting mention from the main subject may have proved interesting. After all, the first 20 minutes or so of the film sees Petit’s attempts to explain an almost unfathomable obsession with the World Trade Centre that he can barely understand himself. His initial obsession is all consuming, but it is as if after conquering them, like his childhood girlfriend also, Petit just forgot about them. Still, as already stated, this was an extraordinary act of daring that some call ‘the artistic crime of the century’, one born out of childlike innocence, a persuasive sense of adventure, and an inherent desire to entertain - nothing more, nothing less – and it is perfectly realised by director Marsh, Philippe Petit himself, and his loyal gang.
Country: UK/France/USA
Budget: £
Length: 90mins
Filmography:
‘Wisconsin Death Trip’, 1999, James Marsh, British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC)
‘The King’, 2005, James Marsh, ContentFilm
‘Fahrenheit 9/11’, 2004, Michael Moore, Fellowship Adventure Group
‘Bowling For Columbine’, 2002, Michael Moore, Alliance Atlantis Communications
Pub/2008
More like this:
Hearts and Minds, 1974, directed by Peter Davis
9/11: The Falling Man, 2006, directed by Henry Singer
The Wonderful Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl, 1993, directed by Ray Müller