GONE FISHIN?

It seems that KidsFlix has gone fishin'.

(But you figured that out already.)

A busy summer morphed into a busy fall ... focusing on my writing gig (the one that helps pay the bills) and volunteering for Maine's No on (Question) 1 campaign has just completely derailed me!

The longer I'm away, the harder it is to start it up again.

So, that said, I suspect I may be waiting for some serious inspiration to get back on the ol' horse, and share my thoughts with you on offbeat, fab films for families.

Perhaps inspiration will come knocking once I see something that really floors me ... I know this weekend, husband D has a film coming in that sounds pretty great (Terror From Beneath The Sea, 1966). (No peeking! Give me a few days and I promise I'll write something, now that I've baited you.)

Another film I'm really looking forward to is -- and I share this with you freely as I'm sure it deserves even more attention than it will get -- is a new documentary called Afghan Star. It's still showing in pockets around the country, in art houses and on college campuses, so check your listings. It's impatiently sitting in my Netflix "saved" queue.

Ok. Carry on. I guess I'm warming up to come back!

Oh, and to give you somewhere to go right now, check out my friend's blog, Really? Estate, where she's documenting her and her husband's attempt to buy a house in the San Francisco Bay Area. You'll laugh and cry along with them as they look at houses in "landslide zones" with cracked foundations and shoebox-sized rooms going for a cool half million dollars. (No, I'm not kidding.)

It's fascinating. Send her some good karma while you're there.

IN THE SHADOW OF THE MOON (PG)

To my surprise, this documentary about the 12 human beings who have been to the moon and back is directed by British producer/director David Sington. This nifty little film not only captures a very American feeling about our amazing accomplishments in space so many decades ago, but also does a fine job reminding us what national unity and pride feels like. Ever since the post-9/11 ... love fest ... ended (around the time Bush started talking about invading Iraq), our country has forged a divide so deep, you think it may never close up.

(Also funny how the post-2008 election love fest has fizzled, adding to that divide, now that Republicans are remembering what it feels like to be in the minority: not fun, and kinda scary when you have no power. But I sure hope those who are getting so riled up figure out how to get along, and turn down the rhetoric and the stretching of truth, and leave the guns at home. Talk about scary.)

Where was I?

Oh, yeah, national unity. In The Shadow of the Moon leaves you with a nice feeling, and when you’re gathering up the popcorn bowls and putting the pillows back on the sofa, it has you imagining some new goal, or mission, that the U.S. could embark on to pull us back together. Something universally desired, attainable, admirable.

As thoughts like “eradicate world hunger” and “wipe out illiteracy” whoosh through your pea brain, you find yourself wondering, “Uh, what did getting onto the moon actually do for humankind that was so great?”

And then you banish that thought, as suddenly as it appears.

Where would we (any of us) be without curiosity and exploration driving us to do crazy things like walk on the moon? Where would we be if we simply didn’t possess a desire to know what’s next, what’s beyond, or what is possible?

Ok, pyschological mumbo-jumbo aside, here’s what you want to know: this is a beautiful film, one that focuses on giving our hero astronauts ample opportunity to look back and tell us how it felt, what they were thinking at the moment of lift-off, or landing. They’re all intensely likable and easy to listen to. Unfortunately, Neil Armstrong is pretty reclusive these days, and declined to participate, which just seems crazy; he was the first human to touch moon dirt! (The weight and importance of that does not escape the others, and it’s briefly discussed and recognized as being quite a burden to carry.) The sense of awe that many of these men express about their experience is palpable; one proclaims, with no shortage of wonder in his voice, “I spent three days of my life on the moon ... that’s just ... science fiction!”

Original footage has been lovingly restored and touched up, and the visuals are brilliant. The moonscapes and earthscapes -- as well as the joyful first moonwalk footage -- should impress any kid (you just need to remind them it’s real). There is also tragedy (three astronauts perished in the tragedy of Apollo 1), but the film is mostly a celebration of everything that went right on the nine missions that put men on the moon.

If you haven’t started your kids on documentaries yet, this is a good place to start.

NATURE'S MOST AMAZING EVENTS

We caught some of “Nature’s Most Amazing Events” on the Discovery Channel, and this month the series is released on DVD and on Blue-ray.

A close cousin to the great Planet Earth series, this program also features stunning photography, and really enlightening storytelling. Following the natural cycles of nature that can be both life threatening and species propagating, the series is a great way for kids to grasp the interconnectedness of all things: One animal’s tragedy may be another’s survival.


The Great Flood; The Great Feast; The Great Melt; these are natural and climactic phenomena that stretch across the planet, affecting wildlife on different continents with equal vigor. (These are also the names of episodes.)

If you’re looking for some nature viewing this weekend that’s a notch (or two) above what you might stumble on watching TV, clicking between Animal Planet and PBS, pick up Nature's Most Amazing Events instead. Highly recommended.

• For more "nature" and documentary ideas, check these out.

NANOOK OF THE NORTH (G)

Filmmaker Robert Flaherty spent some years traveling the far points of the earth -- mining, mapping, and exploring -- and took up an interest in film while on an expedition for Sir William Mackenzie's Canadian railroad. Original footage capturing Inuit life in the harsh Hudson Bay regions in Canada were destroyed in a fire upon Flaherty’s return home, but only after enjoying a wildly enthusiastic response from those who saw it. He returned to the far north with the sole purpose of filming in mind -- Nanook of the North is widely considered the first documentary film made, and Flaherty is considered a progenitor of “ethnographic film.”

This is a short, silent (black and white, need we say it?) movie that even your bounciest of kids may be able to sit through, as one scene after another is a jaw-dropping delight. Witnessing the patience and stealth needed to ice fish, to kill a monstrous, blubbery walrus, or to carefully construct an air-tight igloo (the window remodel scene was just the most awesome thing!), is mind boggling, and what’s better than visuals that happen to be fascinating and educational at the same time?

Husband D and I were so glad we saw this, even though we had to wrangle an increasingly impatient, pre-teen K into sitting through it. But we marveled over scenes, wondering how much was staged, and how much was natural.


I’m not going to spoil it by telling them that, according to Wikipedia, much of it was staged (some forgivably and necessarily, considering the restraints of filmmaking equipment at the time). Flaherty also wanted to show the historical, traditional ways of life in the far north, so, for example, although the Inuit at the time were using firearms for hunting they put them aside for the film. Nanook’s wife was not really his wife, but an actress.

Harder to take, according to Wikipedia (however, a “citation needed” notation appears next to this tidbit), is that Flaherty may have put Nanook and others in jeopardy all in the name of a few good shots. The worst of it is a detail credited on Wikipedia to Melanie McGrath's book, The Long Exile: A Tale of Inuit Betrayal and Survival in the High Arctic: Flaherty reportedly had an affair with the woman playing Nanook’s wife, and fathered a son that he never owned up to.

There is absolutely no mention of this on IMDB, so perhaps Wikipedia’s claims and sources are incorrect. I like to think that’s possible.

All that aside, this film was one of the first 25 films to be selected in 1989 for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” Forgiving the manipulation Flaherty may have felt necessary at the time to get his point across, one can certainly applaud the Film Registry’s effort, and enjoy this film simply for its purpose and spirit, and the truths that lie in it, even if they are perhaps slightly distorted. Flaherty had real foresight and vision; he also had an abundance of resourcefulness and creativity, and he possessed an admirable adventurousness, to say the least.


(There is a 1994 film depicting Flaherty’s making of Nanook, called Kabloonak [it means, “stranger], and one reviewer on IMDB calls it “A work of Existential art.” It might be worth checking out.)

RIVERS AND TIDES (G)

Son K once spent a gorgeous summer day here in Maine building and rebuilding a stone “dam” in a river, and I suspected that half the thrill was directing the water, and being in control of it, and the other half was the visual aspect, the ability to change stone size, shape and color in any way that gave him pleasure. It was simply heavenly to watch him so absorbed, so focused on his task all afternoon in this quiet, undisturbed place we’d found. I also remembered, briefly, the joy and wonder I felt as a kid doing the same kinds of things.

If your kids love playing in nature, collecting stones, playing in sand, exploring creeks and tidal pools, they’ll probably love Rivers and Tides. It’s a mesmerizing documentary about an artist who uses the natural world as his creative tools, and it quietly stirs the viewer’s own memories and feelings related to the tactile exploration of nature and our inexplicable desire to rearrange it.

Andy Goldsworthy is a noted Scottish artist who uses items such as stones, driftwood, water, bracken, and lily pads to create art that is often ephemeral and fleeting. He is sometimes working with nature, and sometimes against it, almost always racing with an incoming tide, an ice-melting sun, or some other natural force, which he incorporates into the piece. His work is lovely, and like the web of a spider, is often concentric or patterned, and seems to have some complex blueprint underlying that we can’t see. At first, the idea that some of his creations should have such a short life is hard to take, but eventually it becomes obvious that the complete cycle, or life, of the piece is the work. “The real work is the change,” Goldsworthy notes, and you see that the way an incoming tide changes a driftwood formation, or the way that sun and shadow changes a sculpture of bracken is integral to the work, it becomes an even bigger part of the work.

Of course, watching a piece come tumbling down as he’s still building it, due to wind or water or some other force of nature, is heartbreaking, but Goldsworthy seems pretty impervious at this point. He’ll just quietly start again, light and weather willing. His work can be as detailed as carefully placing a brilliant white rope of wool atop a long, rambling stonewall in the Scottish countryside, or it can be as fleeting as throwing snow into the air. It’s a great reminder (or lesson) that art can be many, many things, and created in many ways.

There is a hypnotic, restful quality to the film, and I’d suspect that kids on the younger end of the age spectrum will be quite engaged, as would kids just past the tweener stage, especially creative, thoughtful teens. (Watching our own tweener son in his changing viewing habits, I’m finding this stage a bit difficult; at this age, they beg for PG-13 movies, they want more action, more adult themes, and documentaries are sometimes the most difficult genre to get them to agree to.) K wasn’t home when I watched this, so I can’t give you his take, but I’m not completely convinced he would have given it a chance. I might hold on to the disc and give it a try.

It’s such a magical film. I’d be interested to hear about your own family experience if you’ve seen Rivers and Tides.

(Oh, and here’s the parental caveat: at about 50 minutes in, when the POV has changed from the woods to sheep country, there is a very abrupt mood changer: a sheep is running in a circle and a man, rather brusquely, snares it with some contraption and he grabs it and wrangles is to the ground. Before you can say “little lambs eat ivy,” it seems the man has pulled a baby from the mother’s womb, in all its graphic glory. The hardest part for me was when the mama sheep got up and stumbled around, it nearly (or may have) stepped on the little guy -- I was horrified.)

Here is a trailer, where Goldsworthy expounds, brilliantly, on the ephemeral aspect of his work. Unfortunately, they cut off the very end of his point: listen carefully, and then add these words after he ends with “shock” (I happened to make note of this while watching): [He scratches his chin.] Reluctantly, but as if a light bulb went off in his head, he admits, “I can’t explain that.”



There are a lot of videos featuring Goldsworthy's work on YouTube if you have a few minutes to search around ... you’ll see some really superb stuff.

Rather than link to another here (it’s so hard to decide!), here’s something cool I stumbled on that has nothing to do with Rivers and Tides:

The Singing, Ringing Tree:

"Horse Boy" Documentary

If autism touches your life, you may be especially interested in this documentary, which will be released in the fall along with a book. I just read an article about it, and was so intrigued, I felt I should pass it on. (Web site and film trailer below.)

Journalist Rupert Isaacson and his wife Kristin know autism all too well. Their young son, Rowan, was diagnosed in 2004 when he was two years old. When Rupert noticed that his son had a strange affect on his beloved quarterhorse, Betsy (she displayed "submissive" body language and behavior in Rowan's presence), and that Betsy also had a very interesting and positive effect on Rowan (immensely soothing, with the boy's physical "stims" and gestures silenced, and a voice found), a window was flung open, allowing new perspectives, ideas and hope into the Isaacson household.

As a journalist, Isaacson was accustomed to visiting exotic locales, and not long after the diagnosis, Rupert was called to Africa. Kristin and Rowan joined him for part of the trip, and after another startling discovery, involving tribal elders and shamans taking Rowan into rituals and ceremonies in an attempt, essentially, to "heal" the young boy, the surprised parents noticed a change in Rowan's behavior. Rowan's symptoms eased and seemed to be reversing.

The Isaacsons decided to embark on a true journey of a lifetime, and this journey is the focus of Horse Boy. Combining the possibilities of shamanistic healing with the calming effect of horses, the family set out -- on horseback -- across the Steppe of Mongolia to the forests of Siberia, visiting healers and shamans all along the way.

The film is their story.

"Horse Boy" is showing at select festivals and events in spring and summer, but will receive a proper release in the fall.

For now, you can visit the web site for more info, and/or watch the trailer below.

This Week's Classic Kids' Movie

I vacillated a bit on this one, but overall give it a thumbs up, and even have no qualms about putting it in the “classic kids’ movie” category. I do this because in some ways it’s the perfect kids’ movie, for the younger set in particular, and even with its blemishes and bumps it will stand the test of time.

Purists take issue with the “documentary” label given to Winged Migration (it was even nominated for an Oscar in 2001 in that category), since the filmmakers used birds trained (“imprinted”) from birth, so that they would fly undisturbed by equipment and crew, and since it was filmed over a period of four years and thus does not truly “document” a natural migration. There are also some segments that are CGI-enhanced.

That said: I’m no purist, and when you’re searching for something thoughtful, quiet, and artful for younger kids, something like watching birds being birds (several species are here, including geese, storks, and pelicans) -- from various angles and distances (both air and land/sea), up close and with unfettered views -- can be magical and very rewarding. I remember taking K to a theater to see this, he grumbled a bit thinking it was going to be boring (he was about eight years old, as headstrong as he is now), but he was entranced for the hour and a half.

The cinematography is stunning, and the whole “birds’ eye view” concept is what makes the film so special. Much of the film takes place right alongside birds as they are flying, and seeing them in motion where they can really be studied is a rare opportunity. There is very little dialogue, and occasional dramatic bits keep the viewer from dozing off or losing focus. These dramatic scenes might bother some smaller children, as they depict the perils and dangers of the real world (again, purists may ask, “Were these scenes set up? Are they real? Were any birds harmed for the purpose of the film?”): geese pick at polluted puddles of water, birds appear to be shot out of the sky by hunters, another bird gets stuck in industrial sludge. You get the drift.

Without being overtly preachy, this truly beautiful cinematic adventure manages to convey the importance of our role in keeping the earth safe and hospitable for all creatures, which is a good message for kids of any age.

More cool documentaries here.

Disney's EARTH

If you've seen the trailer in theaters for Disney's Earth, to be released on Earth Day (April 22), you might be thinking, "Hmmm, some of those shots look familiar." I was surprised to read that the film is basically comprised of "Planet Earth" segments (reviewed elsewhere on KidsFlix) and not only was it originally done with Patrick Stewart narrating (and I believe released in Europe last year), but his voice was replaced with that of the formidable James Earl Jones for the U.S. release.

Ok, should that matter? I'm not sure. If folks fork over $10 a head for movie tickets and $20 on popcorn and treats, and settle in for some bigger-than-life shots of nature at its best, and then feel like they're at home watching a re-run of something they can't quite put their finger on ... then maybe it matters.

This is the first feature-length nature documentary from Disney's new production banner, Disneynature, so we'll see what follows. Maybe this is the kick-off release; if so, it's hard to argue with the quality of the product. Also, Disney will plant a tree for every ticket sold opening week. That alone makes it worth going (ok, that and the three animal families we follow for a year: African elephants, polar bears and humpback whales. Excellent selection!). The New York Times reports:

“Disney’s goal is to ensure that it plants trees in areas that conservationists have identified as important hot spots of biodiversity. Disney will oversee the planting of the trees in the Brazilian Atlantic Forest, which is considered the most endangered rain forest in the world. Today, only 7 percent of the Atlantic Forest remains. Disney is committed to ensuring the trees are planted and cared for to provide the greatest long term benefit for the planet.”

The Times goes on to say that based on opening week ticket sales for Disney's March of the Penguins, they could be looking at a half million or so tickets/trees.

Here's a trailer lifted from YouTube. You can go to Apple Trailers for a true HD, super-duper pretty version of it. Wow. Also, visit this Disney site for more images, downloads, games and educational material related to the film.



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What else is new?

PAPER CLIPS (G)

This is a tough one.

This one will require a box of tissues, extra hugs, and maybe a dose of something lighthearted on the telly before you all trot off to your rooms or to bed or to clean the kitchen. Maybe a "Friends" re-run or a little "VHI's One-Hit Wonders of the '80s" will do the trick.

Paper Clips is a stunningly powerful documentary about a group of 8th grade students in tiny Whitwell, TN, who embark on a journey to understand the Holocaust, but end up questioning so much more. Not only do the students emerge changed from the experience, but it touches an entire community as well.

Tiny Whitwell, TN (outside Chattanooga, and about 100 miles from where the KKK was founded) has a couple of stoplights, virtually zero Jews and Catholics, and might epitomize to some much of the southern United States: homogenized, predominantly fundamentalist Christian, and wrapped in a history of ethnic and racial discrimination and intolerance. (Whitwell is also about 45 miles from the Rhea County Courthouse, where, in 1925, a teacher was convicted for teaching evolution during the "Scopes Monkey Trial.”)

When eighth grade students at Whitwell Middle School, back in 1998, began studying the Holocaust, a student planted the seed for the project, by saying, “What is six million? I've never seen six million.” The idea to collect six million of something (something related to the Holocaust, principal Linda Hooper insisted) led to the paper clip, which was "invented" (seems debatable, according to Wikipedia) by a Norwegian Jew; Norwegians wore them on their lapels during WWII as a protest against Hitler and his policies.

The Paper Clips Project got underway slowly, and after nearly stalling out late in 1999 (with 1.5 million clips donated), was saved by mainstream media coverage that was largely due to the efforts of a German couple living in the U.S., working as White House correspondents. Once the spotlight shined on Whitwell, the paper clips came by the millions. Well after the project met its completion, the paper clips would still trickle in, from all corners of the world. At last count, some over 30 million had been received.

There are many heroes in this story: the German couple, who came to the rescue several times and also answered an early question by students, “What are German people like? What do they look like? How could they have done this?”; the principal, assistant principal and teachers involved in the project who had incredible vision and patience; the entire community of Whitwell, who came to together in building a beautiful memorial; the Holocaust survivors who came to Whitwell to tell their stories; and of course the students, who worked tirelessly over a number of years to see the project through to the end.

Of course, the real heroes may be those who sent the paper clips; without the paper clips, this story would be something different. Not only did celebrities, regular people, and presidents (both Bushes and Clinton) send paperclips, but so did Germans, and of course, many, many Jewish people, both Holocaust survivors and relatives of the victims, all with heartbreaking stories.

The multiple award-winning Paper Clips should become a staple in middle school curriculum. Until that happens, a family viewing, with plenty of discussion, breaks for tissue replenishment, hugs, and sweet snacks for levity, will not only serve as a great history lesson and some quality family time, but it’ll bring the love.

I guarantee it.

(Note: This film is officially rated G, but I strongly recommend it for older kids who have a grasp of Holocaust history, and for parents who have more backbone than I, as I pretty much blubbered my way through the whole thing.)

A MAN NAMED PEARL (G)

In a small, seemingly fading town in South Carolina, an African-American man named Pearl Fryar -- the son of a sharecropper -- moved into what was presumably a white, middle class neighborhood, some 30 or 40 years ago. Although it’s barely mentioned in the film, a neighbor at the time apparently expressed fear that Fryar would not “keep up his yard” (while, in all likelihood, harboring all kinds of other wonderful racist viewpoints as well).

Whether this alone motivated our man Pearl to become the topiary wonder of South Carolina is never really discussed. It’s one of several points the filmmakers fail to explore in this otherwise fine little documentary about Mr. Fryar.

A Man Named Pearl is rated G, and it accomplishes quite a bit in its 80 minutes. Focusing on an intriguing and immensely likable fellow/horticulturist/artist, the film contains some great visual treats for the kids (really, some of his creations are astounding), and paves the way for important discussions about race, tenacity, courage, and human nature (it also offers the opportunity for early dialog about work, and finding your passion in life). Not only do we learn about this wonderful man who taught himself, after a three-minute “lesson,” how to grow, train and sculpt greenery with all the skill of Edward Scissorhands, but we hear his words of wisdom to college students about the artistic muse, and we feel his love for humanity in the way he greets neighbors and visitors, buses full of tourists and young students, and in the work he donates to the town. His nearly obsessive passion is palpable, and breathtaking. Can you imagine doing hard physical labor for 12 hours a day because you want to, when you hit 60 years of age?

We get a strong sense of all he contributes not only to his immediate community, but also to the larger, human community, like the proverbial ripple from a stone in a pond. His story is simply inspiring, in reminding us that we can achieve just about anything, if we put our hearts and minds to it.

And for all those reasons, it’s a recommended watching experience for the family.

As noted, it’s not a perfect film. There a few angles to the story that aren’t probed deeply enough, such as his history with “the neighbors,” and the transition of this very pretty, middle class neighborhood from predominantly white to what appears to be predominantly African-American. The film could have been edited even a bit tighter, as it feels a bit long, even at a tidy 78 minutes. And as far as kids go, it’s just a wee bit on the dry side, so you may hear a whine or two from your crowd (we did). But then something always comes along to liven it up a bit, so don’t let them sway you.

The only moment where a parent might squirm is when Pearl’s wife recalls the land around their house being undeveloped and open, “sort of a Lover’s Lane,” she says, and then recounts how they’d often find underwear discarded on the property. Your little angel may ask you what a “Lover’s Lane” has to do with underwear; now you’ve got some time to cram.

Here's a brief trailer for the film, plus some Q&A with Pearl from the Jacob Burns Film Center in Pleasantville, NY:

WHALEDREAMERS (NR/PG-13)

Whaledreamers is a documentary by musician Julian Lennon and director Kim Kindersley that is hugely earnest and well meaning but layers on so many ideas and causes at once that it’s difficult to fully embrace. I’m sort of a sucker (when I’m in the right mood) for “let’s become one and save the world” theology, and so I stayed to the end and was, in fact, doing a little weepy, “why-oh-why-
does-the-world-work-this-way?” soul searching when K walked in and said, “Oh. It’s sad,” and walked out. He was not interested.

Which is good, because this is not for kids!

Ok, before you scurry away, let me clarify: it’s not for young kids.

I thought it was, which is why I watched it, and even after realizing it was not really appropriate kiddie-viewing, I stayed with it so I could give you an accurate report. (Okay, that, and I kind of liked it.)

Though the film at first focuses on Australia’s displaced indigenous Mirning people and their deep cultural bond with whales, it deals with so much more: global warming, industrialization, corporate greed, the Iraq war, among other things. In addition to being rife with these complex issues, there are also difficult images (starving children, war casualties, whale slaughtering, recollections of “disappeared” loved ones, etc.). It’s a rather slow moving piece of work and, frankly, it’s a bit of a muddle. Narrating voices don’t always make their point clear and it’s hard to know who’s speaking at times; certain cultural terminology could stand some clarification; the pacing and editing could have used a surer hand.

However, it’s also a passionate call to arms, with some very moving and beautiful images and ideas. This could work for older kids -- mature tweeners and teens -- who need something to chew on, or who are feeling budding pangs of empathy or curiosity for the natural world. The tough stuff in the film is offset by some really astounding cinematography, and by immensely touching scenes such as the director’s tale of an encounter with dolphins that changed his life. The summoning of various indigenous people to the Mirning land in Australia was quite a feat, and scenes of people as disparate as Northwest Native Americans, Maori of New Zealand, indigenous Hawaiians, Congolese and South Americans, sharing in rituals and storytelling, is educational, interesting and inspiring.

The sniffling comes late in the film, when we learn that one of the young men involved in this “summit,” an American translator and environmental activist, was later kidnapped and killed in South America where he was involved in protests against petroleum developers in the forest. Two other indigenous activists were also murdered. It’s a tough moment to get through. In fact, this event stopped the director and Lennon in their tracks; grief stricken and questioning, the Whaledreamers project came to a halt for several long years.

I think for the right young people, this can be a (painfully) eye opening and perhaps motivational experience. The world ain’t a perfect place, and those in charge are not always right and don’t always know what they’re doing. The concept of ecological “oneness,” that we are all in this together and that everything is connected, is certainly something our children should know about as they prepare to go out into the world and, hopefully, make it a better place.

Whaledreamers can help them on their journey.

(This film is not rated; I consider it to be somewhat equivalent of a PG-13 rating.)

BLUE PLANET/PLANET EARTH SERIES (G)

Maybe this is cheating. I mean, who doesn’t know about the incredible Blue Planet and Planet Earth series’ that ran on the Discovery Channel (Blue Planet ran in 2001, Planet Earth in 2007)?

Well, maybe you don’t have cable. Or maybe your kids were infants and you weren’t yet a fan of the Discovery Channel. Anything’s possible.

At any rate, I stumbled on these the other day while cruising Netflix, and son K was looking over my shoulder.

“Oh, wow ... I would see any of those again, mom! Put ‘em on the list!”

Hmm. I guess being surprised by this was enough to make me think that perhaps we need to make sure they’re included here on KidsFlix. After all, G-rated nature films that the whole family truly enjoys are not all that common; you can only watch March of the Penguins so many times!

Both series, produced by the BBC and by Alastair Fothergill, are now available on Netflix, and I presume at most decent DVD stores. The Blue Planet series was K’s favorite of the two, especially the episode entitled "The Deep," where some pretty bizarre creatures who live in the black depths of the ocean are captured on film, some for the first time. It examines different marine environments throughout the series, from frozen seas to coral reefs and coastal waters. There are so many, many amazing scenes, but one particularly memorable (and difficult) scene depicts orca whales at high tide invading a beached sea lion colony in order to dine on the young. (Yes, this serves as a warning that the vicious and harsh side of nature is well represented in these series.)

The Planet Earth series was my favorite, offering such a wide range of wildlife habitats and cinematic delights that each episode stands alone as an epic adventure. Planet Earth won both an Emmy and a Peabody Award, and David Attenborough’s narration was, for some reason, replaced on the American version by Sigourney Weaver. The series covers arctic tundra, jungles, deserts, African savannas and plains, oceans and caves, and more, and has some of the most stunning cinematography you’ll ever see.

If you haven’t seen these yet, lucky you. You’re in for a treat.

(You can get great detail on each episode by looking up each title over at Wikipedia.)

BLINDSIGHT (PG)

"A lot of people say, I can’t do it because I’m blind, or I have red hair, or my feet are too big. Get the right team around you, don’t set boundaries and go for it.” — Sabriye Tenberken

A movie like Blindsight might make even the most virtuous and well meaning among us think we don’t do enough with our lives, that we can always do more. (We can, and we should.)

The people in this move will astound you. You may have to help your kids understand just how astonishing this story is, but your editorial input and clarifying comments will be worth any interruption. (I’m recommending this for patient kids 10 and up, hopefully with a little documentary experience under their belt.)

Blindsight follows a group of six blind Tibetan teens, who ascend a 23,000-foot Himalayan peak. They are mostly poor, shunned by varying degrees by their families and villages, and certainly know nothing about climbing as the story begins. They learn everything, slowly and patiently, with a gleam in their eyes and nervous grins; they are seeing so much more than a mountaintop in their dreams.

Blinded at age 12, Sabriye Tenberken is a Nobel Peace Prize Nominee, Mother Theresa Award recipient and the founder of Braille Without Borders, a foundation that has transformed attitudes about the blind (and of the blind) in some pretty remote places. One of them is Tibet, where she traveled from Germany, alone at age 26, to set up a blind school for Tibetan children. She set out on horseback with a Tibetan woman as her guide, to find blind kids who had been ostracized by their families and neighbors, and literally gave them new lives. She also created the Braille text for the Tibetan language.

(And she hasn’t won a Nobel Prize?)

“Just because you lose your sight,
it doesn’t mean you lose your vision.” - Erik Weihenmayer

Also completely blinded at age 12 (the same year he lost his mother in a car accident; imagine that for a moment), Erik Weihenmayer became the first blind person, in 2001, to reach the summit of Mount Everest, the world’s highest peak. He is one of only 150 mountaineers to climb the “Seven Summits,” the highest mountains on each of the seven continents, and the only sightless person in their numbers. Erik is also a para-glider, snow skier, long distance cyclist, skydiver and marathon runner. I could go on, but I don’t want to make you feel bad.

(Oh, and Sabriye and Erik are two of Oprah’s "favorite people." Yeah, now you get the gist of their greatness.)

Ok, so long story shortish: Sabriye gets the crazy idea to take a handful of the most driven kids on a climbing expedition. Maybe a just a short one. She contacts Erik, who lives in Colorado, and asks if he’s interested in heading up the adventure. Of course he says yes, and before you know it, six shy, excited and terrified students of Sabriye’s are preparing for their trip up Lhakpa Ri on the north side of Everest.

The viewer is in on the planning, the training, the conditioning, the fear and trepidation, and when the climb is finally underway, it seems impossible, like it was just a crazy idea that should never have been undertaken. Seeing Weihenmayer, from an earlier trip, climbing up a sheet of ice or traversing a crevasse (with a bottomless drop) on a wobbly ladder -- blind, remember? -- is enough to make you hold onto your armchair or nearest loved one and not want to let go. These kids can barely walk in boots, over rocks, how in the hell are they going to climb a 23,000 foot peak?

That’s for you to find out.

This may be a little slow going for some kids. You may want to plan breaks or special treats to dangle like carrots and serve when their patience wears a little thin. Oh, there is also the matter of Life is a Bitch, Part XXII, where nobody wants you if you’re blind in places like Tibet, where they think you are possessed by demons or some equally horrid thing and you are either tethered (er, figuratively, in these particular stories) to your home without much of a future, or, worse, traded away. A western (sighted) climbing guide confesses to the camera that he’s pretty sure one kid has cigarette burns on his body, obtained during a particularly dreadful phase in his life.

That stuff may be hard on the kiddies. It will be hard on you. But it’s worth it in the end. Think you can do it? You can. You can.

And you should.

Trailer below, and more on Erik, Sabriye and the film here.

PLEASE VOTE FOR ME (NR = G)

So, who knew that Washington D.C. and a third grade class in Wuhan, China pretty much operate on identical levels when it comes to politics and election shenanigans?

This charming little documentary (58 minutes) should delight all parents, but will perhaps only engage some kids. I’d think those around the same age group as the students -- and a little older -- might enjoy Please Vote For Me, as it’s a straightforward look into the growing pains and heartbreak of schoolyard politics -- and what kid isn’t familiar with that, on some level? (Did this touch me in particular, as I remembered running -- and losing -- for Class President in the sixth grade? I got beat by a red haired, bullyish boy, and the pain was palpable, long after his coronation and even after I faded into the background, becoming a quiet, bell-bottomed, skinny girl with braces who never ran for anything again. That was the end of my political career. Who needed the agony?)

Um, back to the film (which I watched when K wasn’t around, unfortunately, so I can’t give you his take on it): Here we have a slightly mystifying and completely engaging documentary, focusing on three kids running in a democratic election for Third Grade Class Monitor, in the People’s Republic of China in 2006, when the country is clearly being torn in many different political and cultural directions and tentatively dipping its toe in the murky waters of democracy ... How and why did this film get made? Was it “sanctioned” by the government? Did they feel it portrayed the democratic process as a failure, as unfair, as being riddled with cruelty fueled by the darkest and most deceptive motivations inherent in the human psyche?

Aren’t we awful, us democratic societies?

Or, is the filmmaker a secret lover of democratic principles, and camouflaged the obvious upside to the process with the downside (Machiavellian scheming, corruption, temper tantrums) to allow it to pass Party scrutiny?

Ok, I’m really not smart enough, or deep enough, to provide you with answers here. You can read more about the film and filmmaker as part of the project, Why Democracy, on their web site (and find more interesting films while you’re at it), and perhaps put things in context a bit more before you watch.

But it was fascinating -- both as a parent and as an avid consumer of political drama -- to observe these adorable, smart, driven kids, doing whatever it takes to win. (I confess, it was fascinating in that car wreck sort of way, where you don’t want to watch, but you can’t stop. And it’s not nearly as heartbreaking as some documentaries [speaking of the human psyche, good God, have you seen Errol Morris’ Abu Ghraib documentary, Standard Operating Procedure?], and it does remind us, perhaps unpleasantly, that kids are much, much smarter than we often give them credit for. Some of ‘em are sharks, I tell you.)

Conclusion: Score one for democracy -- I think.

HORATIO'S DRIVE: America's First Road Trip (G)

When K was about eight or nine, I found this documentary at our local library and brought it home. We must have watched it in increments, as it’s apparently 106 minutes long! It seems shorter in my recollecting, so take that as a good sign if you’re rolling your eyes and thinking, “An hour and 45 minute-long documentary? For the kids? Oh, sure. No problem.”

I remember thinking it might not hold K’s attention for long, but it absolutely did. It’s a wonderfully engaging (and, shhh, educational!) documentary by Ken Burns, who employes his favorite tools (archival photos, newspaper clippings, re-enactments and talking heads) to tell the story of the first automotive cross-country trip in 1903. The film captures the excitement felt coast to coast over what seemed such a crazy endeavor for the time, and the adventurous spirit of the man who laid down the gauntlet and said it could be done, one Horatio Nelson Jackson.

The “horseless carriage” was viewed at the time as unreliable, and possibly a fad; most people thought Jackson was nuts. There were millions of roads in the U.S. at the time, but only 150 paved ones (and many not signed). Breakdowns and flats were sheer disaster: the local gas station or highway outpost did not exist, let alone the now ubiquitous Grand Auto or V.I.P. auto parts store. The car had no windshield and no roof, but could reach a whopping speed of 30 m.p.h. Jackson and his co-driver and mechanic Sewall K. Crocker had 90 days to drive from San Francisco to New York.

Did they do it? I won’t spoil the fun. If you’re in for a long, rainy or snowy weekend, get Horatio’s Drive and break it into a couple of viewings. Everyone will love it. And the kids will get a great sense of the time, when the America was young and brash and bold, and events like these united people everywhere. There’s a lot of inspiration in these 106 minutes.

From the PBS site, where you can get more info:

[Horatio's] car, which he christened the Vermont in honor of his home state, splashed through streams, got stuck in buffalo wallows, bounced over railroad trestles to cross major rivers, and frightened horses on the dusty trails. And as he moved eastward, his quest slowly became a national sensation, with huge crowds (tipped off by the telegraph of his approach) lining the streets of town as he whizzed through at 20 miles per hour. "It Startled the Natives," one headline proclaimed; another announced "A Real Live Auto!"

Teachers: this would be a great grade school curriculum item!

For other documentary ideas, see the category listed to the right or go here.

New: MOVING MIDWAY

I recently came across a short article about a family-friendly documentary making the rounds called Moving Midway. I looked it up on First Run Features, which is a good source for info on docs (linked in my right side column), and it sounds fascinating. Here is the blurb from the filmmaker or distributor:

Godfrey Cheshire's richly observed film about his family's Southern plantation - and the colossal feat of moving it to escape urban sprawl - is a thoughtful and witty look at the lingering remnants and still-powerful mythology of plantation culture and the antebellum South. An award-winning film critic turned filmmaker, Cheshire uses the relocation of his family's North Carolina plantation house to embark on a surprising and multi-layered journey. While observing the elaborate, arcane preparations for moving a centuries-old house over fields and a rock quarry, unexpected human drama - from both the living and the dead - emerges. And a chance encounter leads Cheshire and his cousins to discover a previously unknown African American branch of the family (who have their own take on Midway and its legacy).

Through the use of movies and music, and by turning the camera on himself and his family, Cheshire examines the Southern plantation in American history and culture, and how the racial legacy from the past continues into the present.

It appears to be in limited release now, but a few dates are on the First Run Features site. Watch for it in your nearest venue for independent films (and then when it doesn't come, put it on your rental list!)!

Here's the trailer:

GENESIS (G)

If you’re a fan of David Attenborough or, say, the "Planet Earth" series, this one is for you. (Warning: Creationists, this one is not for you.)

Genesis: Where Are We Coming From? not only answers its own question, with striking grace and elegance, but also addresses the question of our final destination. The mysterious origins (and end) of life are addressed by African griot, or storyteller, Sotigui Kouyaté, and French filmmakers/writers Claude Nuridsany and Marie Pérennou. From the big bang and the universe’s birth, to the primordial pool and our return to the earth in the end, the cycle of life is told with folkloric vision by our griot, and illustrated by the filmmakers with profoundly vibrant images.

(Note: I’ve read that the griot’s story was written by the filmmakers; which makes it their story, not his. If true, this may explain his use of the word “atom” and a few other concepts that I thought didn’t ring true to an African storyteller. In the long run, the narration is a bit of a downside, as its poetic ruminations will be lost on children, and in the beginning it slows things down.)

The film opens with a classic microscopic view of dancing, squirming spermatozoa, moving about their business to the chaotic and joyful sounds of children on a playground. It’s a charming few seconds, effective in its simplicity and creative expression, and sets the tone for the film.

From the abstract and beautiful shots of lava, moving water and plant life, to the positively ballet-like images of a seahorse mating dance, there is much here to take your breath away. We laughed out loud at legless mudskippers falling out of their mud-cone houses, and slapping each other with affection (one surmises), at a snake devouring an egg 20 times the size of its head, and at pholcid spiders vibrating in their webs. Genesis is a true feast for the eyes.

As I said, the beginning of the film (the first ten minutes or so) may be rather slow for children. Depending on your kids -- their age, patience, and ability to grapple with foggy, philosophical concepts -- you might want to have the fast forward button handy to keep them engaged. You’ll also politely ignore the distracting, dubbed English narration; I’m sure it was done to avoid subtitles interfering with the images on screen.

Genesis moves from the beginnings of life to the re-creation of life -- before getting to our final destination -- and the images of creatures “in love,” as Kouyaté puts it, are quite innocent and charming. (There’s nothing as unsightly or as awkward as rhinos mating here.) You may wonder, “Gee, are those toads actually.... in flagrante... as they move around, from land to water to land, or is it an affectionate piggy back ride?” (You can choose which explanation suits your kids.) After love and marriage, of course comes death, and this film, in my opinion, treats the end-of-life concept with a simple, matter-of-fact tone. In one sequence, a ripe, glowing, orange peach lying in grass is shown, in time-lapse photography, returning to the earth (ok, decomposing), and it offers up several opportunities for discussion. (Notice the grass suddenly shooting to new heights as the peach fertilizes the soil, for example.) It’s an evocative sequence.

The storyteller eventually portends doom, claiming, “In the end, life is cannibalistic. Life devours life...” And here, of course, is where we must see nature at its most beastly: creature on creature violence. Compared to a great deal of science and nature film, the images here are not as harsh as they could be; there are no lions gorging on juicy, baby gazelles. Here we get a terrifying ugly anglerfish (this one looks amazingly pretty in comparison), smugly devouring innocent shrimp in the blink of an eye, big toads eating little toads. It’s all lightening fast, and painless (well, from where we sit!).

If you watch Genesis, use the biggest screen in your house. Don’t even attempt this on a laptop; you’ll be robbing yourselves of the real thrill of it all.


Genesis won the Grand Prix des Amériques at the Montreal Film Festival in 2004. The directors' other film of note, and one I also recommend, Microcosmos, took the Technical Grand Prize at Cannes (1996), and won Cesar Awards for Best Cinematography and Best Film (1997). Trailers for both below, though I could only find the French language trailer for Microcosmos.

SHARKWATER (PG)

Released in the U.S. in 2008 (2006 in Canada), Sharkwater is not, as one might think, a pretty documentary about sharks, but rather a passionate, powerful telling of a true horror story unfolding in our ocean waters. Few people know the details, and even fewer people are doing anything about it.

Sharkwater director Rob Stewart is one of the latter, a scientist and filmmaker who stumbled onto the disturbing and species-threatening industry of “shark finning,” taking place in various shark hot-spots around the world. We’ve all heard bits and pieces of the story, and are perhaps vaguely familiar with the global uptick in shark fin soup consumption, but did you know that the “finning” industry is detestable, corrupt and dangerous? Do you know that more than 100 million sharks are killed each year, and that sharks are a “keystone species,” meaning they are essential to marine ecosystems as predators? And did you know that only 5-10 people on average are killed per year by sharks? In convincing us of the innocence and lovability of sharks of all kinds, Stewart glibly claims more people are killed each year by soda vending machines. (This made us giggle, and I promised to look it up later.)*

Stewart and associate Paul Watson of the renegade Sea Shepherd Conservation Society get into a bit of a tangle with both poachers and the law (who, it turns out, are on the take) in Costa Rica’s Cocos Islands, and Stewart manages to film not only their dangerous attempts to restrain the poaching vessel, but their own subsequent arrest as well. From there, things just go downhill; Stewart contracts a “skin eating” bacteria, and fights for his life in a hospital, all the while wondering how he can get back to the secret fishing docks he’s discovered in order to continue his filming. He lies in a hospital bed, antibiotics dripping into his besieged body, worrying about dwindling shark numbers, and about how the woefully misunderstood shark has gone from predator to prey at a stunning pace.

The film starts out in a much more genteel way, with lovely visuals of sharks and other bizarre and beautiful sea creatures (not to be lost in all the “messaging” of the film is the fact that Stewart is a very talented cinematographer). His lifelong fascination and adoration of sharks spurred K and I to laugh at one point, and say, “Ok, we get it: he wants to BE a shark!” In one early underwater scene, he’s holding a shark and petting it, while a few others swim around him. Stewart’s behavior evoked more than one memory of the tragic life of Grizzly Man, but I shooed the images away before they could become too vivid in my head. It’s this unfathomable empathy and compassion for the creatures that drives him to saving them, that keeps his focus steady and unshakable. Sharkwater is in many ways tremendously inspirational and moving, but the spark of passion in Stewart is one of the most touching aspects of the film.


There is some good news at the end of the film. Just when you think all may be lost, you feel some faith being restored to the “system,” to international law, and to humanity in general; you feel motivated to get behind this or some other cause, to spend your life doing something more important than bringing home a paycheck. That’s a sign of a job well done. From the kid’s perspective, well, the battle with the poachers and the increasing tension around that whole segment prompted K to say at one point, “Wow, this is such a good movie!” (I have to interject here that K was lucky enough to actually go shark diving in Hawaii a few years ago, in one of those cages that allow tourists and amateurs to get surprisingly close to the sharks. He, like many boys, has a shark fixation of his own, which is one reason we rented the movie, and I think he was pretty horrified at what was going on. It wasn’t exactly what we expected.)

But here’s the caveat: there is brutal cruelty in this movie, and it often comes without warning. Poachers swiftly cut the fins off living, breathing sharks and throw them back in the water, where they sink and die a slow death or are eaten alive. It ain’t pretty. If you think you and your kids are up for this, I say thumbs up with one particular warning: about half way in, where the dangers of “long line fishing” are being discussed (many sea creatures are killed as collateral damage using this method), there’s a bucolic scene of a sea turtle swimming along in his habitat. It suddenly cuts to an image of another turtle, caught up in fishing line, and the camera follows it from under the water to the deck of a boat, where it is quickly killed in a most vile manner. Watch for the scene, then hit “PAUSE” when you see the turtle in fishing line, and declare a break to your viewers, fast-forwarding when the kids run off for a snack or the bathroom. They really don’t need to see it. At any age.

You can visit a web site set up by the filmmaker, and help the good fight by making a donation, or by becoming involved in other ways. Yeah.

SavingSharks.com
And Sharkwater.com

*A search online for this fact was fruitless, except for an About.com page that cited research showing that, “in 1995, for example — the most recent year for which I was able to find an accounting of deaths due to vending machine tipovers — two people died as a result of being crushed by falling soda machines in the U.S., as compared to zero shark-related deaths in the same twelve-month period.”

ENCOUNTERS AT THE END OF THE WORLD (G)

Werner Herzog is one of my favorite directors, period. He can be erratic and overblown, yes, but he is inarguably a deep thinker, outrageously creative and attacks his art with a ferocious, focused, almost rabid passion. He is, likely, a bit insane.


Encounters at the End of the World, which may be his first G-rated film ever, piqued my interest immediately, and I was rather excited by the prospect of taking K to see a Herzog film (I’m sure I’ll force Fitzcarraldo on him before he’s ready for it; he wants to see Grizzly Man, but I’m holding off on that, as great as it was.). We missed a showing of End of the World at our (lone) little rep theater in the area, due to a dead car battery, and when it showed later in the Big City, it was showing at a theater that I find so physically uncomfortable (let’s say, repulsive) that I’m on a personal boycott of the place.

So, I resigned myself to renting it, and watching it on a small screen at home (so wrong!), and promptly put it on our Netflix list.

Imagine my surprise when I saw a listing for it at a wonderful new space in our area, one that shows films and occasionally hosts live events, while also serving pretty good food. There it was, a Saturday matinee. Off the three of us went.

So, here is the good news and bad news about Encounters at the End of the World.

First, the good news: it’s a wonderfully, fully-Herzogian adventure, replete with colorful characters (what kinds of people end up at the Antarctic, at the very edge of the earth?) who tell endlessly entertaining stories (what are they doing there? what brought them there?), and, of course, there is impossibly beautiful cinematography: Antarctic scenery resembling moonscapes, and underwater shots of sea life and topography that simply turn the world upside down.

Herzog somberly makes clear, early in his narration, that he was not intending, by any means, to make “another film about fuzzy penguins.” Funny, that’s not something we think Herzog is even capable of.

The bad news: it’s a bit long (even husband D – also an avid Herzog admirer – grumbled toward the end, “It should be over now”) and the interviews with the characters who live there probably appeal, in all honesty, more to adults than to kids. There are also hilariously Herzogian moments (that are a bit problematic for the kiddies) such as when Herzog asks a scientist questions such as, “Have you observed a segment of the penguin population that is gay?” and (imagine Herzog’s thick, intimidating accent here) “Do penguins ever just go insane?” (At which point D and I howled with appreciation for our favorite German filmmaker.) Insane penguins? Leave it to Herzog!

Of course, Herzog then proves we are laughing because we are heartless, shallow people. To prove the depths of possible penguin insanity, the segment ends with a classic Herzog moment, a heartbreaking shot of a confused, lone penguin, heading in the wrong direction while his buddies follow their instincts and waddle off to the ocean. “He faces 5000 long miles to the other coast, and will most certainly die,” Herzog intones mournfully.

One of the scientist’s answers about “gay” behavior involved an explanation about how some female penguins exhibit behavior called “prostitution," which is only distantly related to the human behavior as we know it . You can see how you would likely have some questions coming from your kids that you might not want to tackle at that very moment.

Do I recommend Encounters at the End of the World? Unequivocally, yes. Oh, for your kids? Well, it depends. Son K was sliding around in his chair and sighing audibly towards the end (ok, honestly, he even started shooting me looks that implied, “WHY AM I HERE?”), and while he is physically a very active (hyperactive we might admit) kid who has a hard time sitting still, he has managed to get through numerous films that aim a bit higher than the usual kid fare does. My guess is that kids over 12 may enjoy this the most, and get the most out of it, and if yours are a bit cerebral and don’t need explosions or cool special effects every fifteen minutes, you might give it a try at any age (again, if you’re willing to deal with some delicate issues along the way).

Personally, I was as happy as a skittering, Antarctic clam to sit through it, and am already looking forward to Herzog’s next adventure.