A well done documentary. It's probably not the most honest it could be -- a little too much admiration for artists/condemnation of corporate hacks, not always enough attention to whether the art made is any good -- but I like its approach to San Francisco's film scene: from personal to professional to cultural, it's a
nice progression. No matter the particular material at any one time, the city is not far from the documentarian's gaze, which is always a strength in a movie like this. After a preface that gets a little excitable (just a mish-mash of clips: um... okay. I have no idea yet what you're saying about them), it manages to calm down and lay out a coherent story. George Lucas, Francis Ford Coppola, jumping back in time to Eadweard Muybridge, then forward to Clint Eastwood... it's a long list, but the thesis of the film (something like "SF is a great place for filmmaking because it's close to yet far from LA, and look at all these talented people!") comes through as a great paean to iconoclasm, independence, and the artistic gifts of "pure cinema" and "personal film." I'm a little surprised by the seeming schizophrenia in its satisfaction with box office success. On the one hand, you're praising art and dismissing Hollywood, and at the same time indulging in one of Hollywood's stupid dances? Okay. That's a little more complicated, I suppose... so whatever, no big deal.
November 4, 2010
Top Critic
