Hi, everyone. "Moriarty" here with some Rumblings From The Lab...
I’m always interested in what spurs someone to become a filmmaker, and doubly so when someone sets out to be a documentarian. It’s certainly not the easiest way to get rich, and it can be incredibly demanding and time-consuming in a way that feature films aren’t. Documentaries tend to be works of passion, first and foremost, and maybe that’s why the good ones strike such responsive chords with audiences.
Luc Jacquet certainly had ambitious plans for his first film, and what makes MARCH OF THE PENGUINS such a fascinating film to watch is the thought that someone was crazy enough to actually go and film it. I can’t imagine spending a whole day in Antarctica, much less a whole year, and the patience and the perseverance required to capture the remarkable images that make up MARCH OF THE PENGUINS cannot possibly be overestimated. In some ways, this reminded me of the great DISNEY TRUE-LIFE ADVENTURES films that were so much a part of my childhood. Excellent nature photography plus a little bit of anthropomorphized voice-over to make nature more palatable was the formula for those films, and Jacquet’s film certainly falls into that tradition. Evidently, it was much more cloying with the original French narration, which actually gave dialogue to the penguins, but for the American release, Warner Independent cleaned it up and hired Morgan Freeman to come in and read some more subtle voice-over stuff instead.
Basically, this is a film about one full cycle in the lives of the Emperor Penguins of Antarctica. Each year, they travel across miles of frozen ground to a breeding area where they pair off, mate, hatch their chicks, then go through a brutally difficult period where the parents have to trade off guardianship so they can eat. How Jacquet and his crew got close enough to capture all of these intimate moments without freaking out these animals is a mystery to me, but it’s beautiful footage. The lines of penguins, all marching together to this breeding ground across ice fields is confounding, but there’s something wonderful about how determined they are, how focused.
Some critics have complained about the way the film tries to draw in family relationships among the birds, saying that it’s a human trait that the film unfairly grafts onto the footage, but that seems a little Grinchy to me. Sure, we might be projecting when we watch this stuff, but what’s wrong with being amazed by a display of tenderness in the face of unforgiving natural conditions? When the female lays the egg, she has to transfer it to the male’s care without setting it on the frozen ground, a delicate process, and we see the entire thing in close-up. You can explain all the behavior as instinct, something that was bred into them, but that discounts the grief they exhibit when something goes wrong. And, I’m sorry, but if you’re not moved on some level by the Overwhelming Cute Factor of baby Emperor Penguins, funny little bags of fat with feet, then just face up to the fact that you’re carrying a lump of coal where your heart ought to be. MARCH OF THE PENGUINS isn’t a film that makes some grand statement or that exposes some harsh truth of the human soul, and it’s not about an important issue. It’s simply a glimpse at one of the most complicated dances of survival that takes place each and every year in one of the hardest locations on Earth, and to see something so sweet, such a simple affirmation of the power of new life, play out on such a harsh stage reminds you of just how powerful the smallest victories can be.
David LaChapelle has made a great living as a fashion photographer and a music video director. I’m sure he could have crossed over into feature filmmaking many times in the past and just sold out easily. Instead, he made a film that is vibrant and alive and has more to say about the current state of race in Los Angeles than any whiny liberal guilt “feel-good” movie could hope to. I knew nothing about krumping or clowning before I saw this film, which is exactly what I love about a good documentary. They open windows into a world of experience completely outside my own, and when they work well, they create empathy for something you didn’t even know existed. In this case, LaChapelle was inspired by some dancers on the set of one of his videos, amazed by what he was seeing, and as he talked to them about the dancing, he learned about an entire movement going on in the heart of Los Angeles that seems to have found a way to channel rage and powerlessness into an art form that is both brand new and rooted somewhere in a race’s collective memory.
Tommy Johnson is the central figure in the film, and also in the world of krumping and clowning. He started out entertaining at children’s parties in and around his South Central Los Angeles neighborhood, a self-proclaimed “hip-hop clown.” Somehow, his style of entertainment caught on with teens as well as younger kids, and soon, there was an alternative to the gangs that previously seemed to be the only outlets for many of the kids. They became clowns like Tommy, and as they grew older, many of them started their own clown crews, adapting Tommy’s dance moves and adding their own. Krumping was the natural organic evolution of the style, and now there are dozens if not hundreds of different groups all dedicated to krumping.
How can you describe it to someone who hasn’t seen it? Krumping isn’t like any other form of hip-hop dancing that I’ve ever seen. It’s like a pure, unfettered physical expression, aggressive and almost ritualistic. The dancers seem to surrender themselves to it, and they move so fast that their moves are almost impossible to break down individually. There’s a lot of stylized role play involved in krumping. You’ll see “fights” between krumpers, but no one actually gets hit, and one of the very first things you see in the film is a recreation of the Rodney King beating played out as a dance. It’s raw, no doubt, and at one point, one of the kids explains that the style evolves every single day. If you miss two or three days of krumping and try to step back in, everyone knows right away that you are out of date. That sense of invention, of trying to top one another, is part of what makes krumping such a viable alternative to being in gangs for these kids. They have an outlet for that competitive sense of belonging. They can choose their peers and establish dominence over other people. Tommy The Clown created Battle Zone, a way for all the krumping crews to meet head-to-head in massive dance-offs, and in the film, we see one competition so big that it was hosted at the Great Western Forum. Even without knowing much about the scene, you can tell who the stars are. There’s an inventiveness to the best of the krumpers. Ms. Prissy, for example, or Tight Eyez are both incredible dancers who do things with their bodies that just seem impossible, somehow mixing anger and joy and even wit into one fluid whole. It’s pretty amazing to witness, and it’s no wonder LaChapelle became so fascinated with the dance and the dancers.
At one point, LaChapelle tries something risky with the film, and I think it’s one of the most memorable things I’ve seen onscreen so far this year. He starts with footage of the kids krumping, faces all painted, many of them stripped down to as little clothing as possible, and then he intercuts it to footage of tribal dance rituals from Africa, where we see faces painted, the same lithe builds stripped down. We see many of the same moves, the same sort of expression of self, the same type of release in the dance. The connection works, and far from coming across as some sort of statement about how primitive the kids are, it seems instead to say that this sort of expression is hard-wired, and it takes someone who is genuinely in touch with themselves to let go. Dance is one of those pure art forms, where all you need in order to do it is yourself. There’s no equipment, no budget, no stage required. All you have to do is overcome your own inhibitions and throw yourself, body and soul, into the music and the movement. LaChapelle’s film is a celebration of the expression that these kids not only founded but which they continue to refine every day. Here’s something that would be really hard to repackage and sell in a mall or for suburban kids to co-opt to the point of unrecognizability, and that seems to be the point. Krumping isn’t a fad for the amazing young people we meet in RIZE; it’s a lifeline. And for LaChapelle, it’s a triumphant first documentary feature. I hope he continues to follow his passions if they’re going to lead him to films like this one.
RIZE is playing now everywhere, and MARCH OF THE PENGUINS rolled out wide this weekend, so check them both out if you want an alternative to the big-budget blockbuster fare that’s out there. I’ve got a number of reviews coming up in the days ahead. THE BROTHERS GRIMM and THE WEDDING CRASHERS, as well as MURDERBALL and PROMEDIO ROJO. I might even sneak in a viewing of FANTASTIC FOUR. Of course, all of this could go out the window in a heartbeat since my baby’s due date was Thursday, so I’ll put up as much as I can until then. For now...
"Moriarty" out.
