Here
is a trio of documentaries that, as different as they are, all pertain to the
power of friendships and relationships, professional and personal, for better
or for worse. Falling in the “worse” category are Argentine tango
legends Juan Carlos Copes and María Nieves Rego in German Kral’s “Our Last Tango,” which
was produced by Wim Wenders. Despite a rocky relationship, the two continued to
dance together for years because of their undeniable chemistry on the dance
floor, making tango a worldwide sensation with their “Tango Argentino”
Broadway show in the 1980s. Now octogenarians, the dancers are interviewed
separately, implying that they are not on good enough terms to talk to each
other. Likely unintentionally, the film pits the dancers against each other, putting
the viewer in the awkward position of having to decide which one to sympathize
with.
Though
the heart of the film is about Copes and Nieves’ tumultuous time together, “Our
Last Tango” also chronicles the importance of tango in their home country,
starting with the duo’s humble beginnings as non-professionals and the various
trials and tribulations they encountered in keeping the dance relevant in the
decades to follow. Using performance footage and warm-hued, soft-lensed
dramatizations of their younger days, the film is successful in portraying the
competitive career of dance. But in focusing so much on their present-day
bitterness and regrets, “Our Last Tango” loses a key opportunity to engage
audiences who don’t know much about tango with the more intricate details of
what it’s all about, and why it matters. You could argue that perhaps that’s
not the purpose of this documentary, but at the same time, you’d think the
world’s most beloved experts would have a thing or two to say on the subject.
Instead, we get such an intimate glimpse into their personal lives that the
film loses momentum and becomes a kind of soap-opera-through-flashback. “Our
Last Tango” proves that old adage, “It takes two to tango,” is quite true, but
with one caveat: Choose your partner wisely.
While
“Our Last Tango” dwells too much on the personal, Kent Jones’ “Hitchcock/Truffaut” doesn’t do it
enough. An in-depth tribute to the famous book that can be found in every
cinephile’s library, the film uses Francois Truffaut’s long-form interview with
Alfred Hitchcock as a jumping-off point to delve into the myriad aesthetic
considerations of the British auteur’s large body of work. Here, we get a tiny
glimpse into the interior world of Hitchcock—the word “perversion” is
mentioned a small handful of times, but the film shies away from asking any
questions about Hitchcock’s personal life (his wife Alma Reville is mentioned
once). The personal is of no concern to Jones. He’s here to continue the
conversation that Truffaut started 50 years ago, in which the French director
argued that the British master of suspense was more than just an entertainer: he
was an artist.
Carrying
Truffaut’s torch, Jones enlists a whole new set of auteurs as talking heads:
Martin Scorsese, Wes Anderson, Olivier Assayas, David Fincher and others weigh
in on the seminal value of both Truffaut’s book and Hitchcock’s work in their
own maturations as filmmakers. Conspicuously, not a single female filmmaker is
to be found in this movie; it’s as if Jones couldn’t think of even one who
might have something to say on one of the most important directors of all time.
This alarming gender imbalance aside, the results are mesmerizing to watch for
two reasons: 1) it’s very obvious that every single one of these directors has
long studied Hitchcock’s work and has insightful things to say, and 2) the
visual splendors of Hitchcock’s work are used thoughtfully and masterly as a
beautiful backdrop for those insights. Though Truffaut had a lot more to prove
when he published his interview in 1967, back when cinema was only beginning to
be taken seriously as an art form, Jones’ documentary proves its own value by underscoring
the importance of continuing to value Hitchcock’s work, particularly the influence
it’s had on more contemporary cinema. “Hitchcock/Truffaut” dips into the past
to introduce the reasons for the auteurs’ original conversation and its
cultural cache at that time, contextualizing the directors’ careers and
respective backgrounds. Yet despite its historical subject, “Hitchcock/Truffaut”
adeptly proves the timelessness of cinema.
Jones’
doc is about directors brought together by their love of cinema, and though Truffaut
and Hitchcock operated in different worlds the film does touch on the effect
they had on each other’s lives. Barbara Kopple’s “Miss Sharon Jones!” is about a tight-knit set of relationships,
between soul singer Sharon Jones and her colleagues and friends, during her
year-long cancer battle in 2013, which caused her band The Dap-Kings to take a
break while she underwent chemotherapy.
The
film follows Jones through her recovery, the scary follow-up tests that
determined if the treatments were successful, and her glorious return as soul
queen in 2014, with the release of the band’s new Grammy-nominated album “Give
the People What They Want,” and their subsequent tour. This is very much a
cancer survival story. We see how Jones deals with the most grueling aspects of
the illness, everything from the toxic treatments to the physical side effects,
to the financial strain it has put on the band. But this is also a music doc,
albeit indirectly. Thanks to its longitudinal focus, interviews with The
Dap-Kings and assistant manager Austen Holman reveal what it’s like to be a
musician today. What a bloody tough racket, especially for a band who has long
cultivated a strong critical fanbase without the kind of ultimate financial
success that could let them more easily mitigate life-changing events like
Jones’ illness. (By the time the band is ready to get on the road again, one
member has already left for a gig on one of the daily night shows.) The film is
successful in making this more than just about Jones’ struggle, as it shows how
the cancer affects every single band member, both on an emotional level as well
as a financial one. That tension, between the band wanting to make sure their
mama queen is okay, and wanting to ensure they can get back to working as soon
as possible, is thoughtfully explored by Kopple. The film doesn’t walk on
eggshells with its subjects; nor does it seek to sensationalize them, either.
Yet
the film’s real success lies in having Jones as its primary subject, and that’s
because she’s a wickedly funny, fierce, phenomenal force of nature, a positive,
vivacious character whose generosity and charisma touches every single person.
Despite the countless stresses she faces during her medical struggle Jones
remains strong and positive, neutralizing the terror the cancer would normally
cause in those around her, and inspiring them to stay strong. Each time one of
the subjects is about to break into tears while being interviewed in the film,
you can’t help but see the positive difference Jones has made. As weepy as that
sounds, the film never verges into sentimental territory, thanks to its
perfectly paced moments of levity and positive energy, seen in small moments,
like Jones’ jubilant discovery that she has been invited to guest on Ellen, one
of her favorite daytime TV shows, or her making fun of the wigs she’s trying on
early in her treatment process.
At the public screening of “Miss Sharon Jones!”
at TIFF, the singer announced that her cancer had returned and that she wasn’t
giving up the fight, not one bit. Here’s hoping that this beautiful, touching
documentary reaches enough people to create new fans in Sharon Jones and The
Dap-Kings, and gives the band the financial success they’ve always deserved.
