The Arbor (2011)
Critic Consensus: Smart and inventive, The Arbor offers some intensely memorable twists on tired documentary tropes.
Instead if making a conventional documentary or adapting Dunbar's play The Arbor for the screen, director Clio Barnard has crafted a truly unique work that transcends genre and defies categorization. Following two years conducting audio interviews with Dunbar's family, friends and neighbors, Barnard filmed actors lip-synching the interviews, flawlessly interpreting every breath, tick and nuance. The film focuses in particular on the playwright's troubled relationship with her daughter Lorraine who was just 10 when her mother died. Barnard re-introduces Lorraine, to her mother's play and private letters, prompting her to reflect on the extraordinary parallels between their lives. Interwoven with these interviews are staged scenes of Dunbar's play filmed on The Arbor, the street where she lived. -- (C) Strand … More
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Critic Reviews for The Arbor
Numerous celluloid experiments have fudged reality and fiction lately, but few are as formally inventive or socially revelatory as The Arbor.
For the morbidly curious, it's mesmerizing. But it's also a singularly watchable story for the strange, and strangely fitting, way in which it's told.
Barnard's boldest move is to unveil the irresponsible chaos of the playwright's private life, and to make us wonder if the art was worth the suffering, after all.
Brings the Dunbar story to life through a technique known as "verbatim theater," in which actors lip-synch testimony from the real people they're portraying.
Audience Reviews for The Arbor
Interesting if gruelling study of how 'grim up north' things can get. Novel use of actors miming spoken testimonies from the real people involved. Ken Loach minus the humour.
In an age where demographics and target audiences are everything, The Arbor is a film which genuinely defies genre. Nestling somewhere between a documentary and an art film, between a Crimewatch re-enactment and the work of Mike Leigh, it is extremely difficult to pigeonhole it or to compare it readily with any film on a similar subject. Taken on its own terms, it is a tough and often harrowing portrayal of Bradford and its inhabitants in a particular time and place, and while not perfect, it contains much which will intrigue and stimulate.
The Arbor is a biopic of the late Bradford playwright Andrea Dunbar, a single mother with three children by three different partners. Her first play, The Arbor, was premiered in London when she was 18 years old. This and her later works - Rita, Sue and Bob Too and Sheila - looked candidly at life on Bradford estates, dealing with subjects like teenage pregnancy, drug addiction and extra-marital affairs. After Rita, Sue and Bob Too was adapted into a film, Dunbar's output declined and she became known as a heavy drinker. She died of a cerebral haemorrhage in 1990, aged just 29.
While such a story contains enough drama and struggle for any run-of-the-mill biopic, there is very little about The Arbor that could be called run-of-the-mill. The film mixes documentary footage of Dunbar and her family, sections of The Arbor staged in the open air, and footage of actors playing members of her family. The gimmick (if that's not too churlish a term) is that the actors are lip-syncing to audio clips of the actual individuals; when their lips move, the real-life people are speaking.
There have been other projects which have used people lip-syncing to recordings in various ways. Think of the Creature Comforts shorts by Aardman, where the voices of the British public are synced up to animations of different animals. Or, to some extent, the fantasy sequences in The Singing Detective, in which Michael Gambon reminisces (or fantasises) about singing old jazz standards in a club. But these comparisons are quite fleeting and don't begin to describe what effect this device has.
It would be tempting to describe it as a Brechtian device, something which is designed to alienate an audience, causing them to realise the artifice of what they are seeing. But that isn't really true either, since the predominant effect is not alienation. The lip-syncing may seem odd at first, but it's done in such a technically proficient manner that you very rarely find yourself distracted by it. Even when the actors' sequences are intercut with footage of Dunbar's real-life children and parents, you don't find yourselves struggling to identify with whatever or whoever is on screen.
The Arbor has two central themes, both of which are brought out in a fascinating and original way by this device. The first is an examination of the truth as something which is clouded and fragmented - we have one figure, with multiple stories surrounding her and different viewpoints on the events that befell her. There is a Rashamon-like disagreement among the characters as to what Dunbar did and what she was like, and like Rashamon it is up to us to decide who is telling the truth. Lorraine, her second child, hates her mother and can't forgive her for what she did, while her first-born Lisa won't hear a word against her.
By having actors lip-sync to actual recordings of actual dialogue, we are presented with a series of convincing but conflicting accounts about an individual we know very little about. If it was just the actors speaking, it would be relatively easy to discover the author's inherent bias, and find out where the blame lay, at least in the mind of the filmmakers. Under these circumstances, we have no such luxury and there is no clear right or wrong. Late in the film, there is a staged reading from A State Affair, a play about Andrea Dunbar lifted entirely from the words of Bradford residents who knew her. We hear the mixed reaction of Dunbar's offspring and we are forced to question how well any of us can know anyone.
The second theme of The Arbor is about the impact of the past and how it lingers in the present. From this perspective, the lip-syncing represents how the ghosts of the past still communicate through our present selves. The events of Dunbar's tragic and troubled life are replicated to some extent by what happens to her children. Lorraine in particular goes through a number of abusive boyfriends, gets into drugs and ends up in prison. Beyond Lorraine's remarks about her mother, the film gives very little clue as to how much her predicament is down to Andrea, compared to more general social problems or her own free will and foolishness.
The subjects dealt with in The Arbor are every bit as tough as those covered in Dunbar's plays nearly 30 years beforehand. There is frequent talk of drug abuse and addiction, along with prostitution, multiple teenage pregnancies, child mortality and alcoholism. When written out as a list like this, one might expect the film to go through these problems like a tick-box of 'working-class misery', or for the inhabitants of Bradford to be manipulated by a director wanting to take pot shots at modern Britain. But instead, the film treats these subjects in a very un-manipulative way. There is a great deal of shock and sadness on the part of the viewer, which comes simply from the way in which people talk about these things so candidly.
Although it defies genre and comparison, the film to which The Arbor bears the closest resemblance is Savage Grace, Tom Kalin's twisted and difficult examination of the life and times of Barbara Daly Baekeland. On the surface the films couldn't be more different; The Arbor is a realistic account of 'the poor', while Savage Grace is a hyper-stylised, heavily choreographed examination of the filthy rich. But in both cases, the approaches which these films take are probably the only way you could have told these respective stories. It's very hard to make a film about 'underprivileged' individuals without resorting to clichés, stereotypes or mawkish sentimentality, and The Arbor deserves credit for steadfastly avoiding any of these.
The problems with The Arbor lie less in its ideas than the manner in which they are executed. After Andrea Dunbar dies just shy of the hour mark, the film steadily begins to lose its focus; it stops being a biopic per se but isn't quite sure where the stories should go from there. It becomes a film less about the character of Andrea than about the impact of her lifestyle, something which is even harder to pin down. It goes back and forth between Lisa, Lorraine and other relatives, all of whom have interesting things to say but to much less of an end.
From a more technical point of view, the film is lacking in some of its editorial decisions. On at least three occasions the screen fades to black at a point which seems like a fairly satisfying place to end. But on each occasion another scene starts up soon after, which gives the distinct impression of a film which either doesn't know how to end or which has multiple endings, none of which are conclusive. This could be intentional on the part of the filmmakers, showing how Dunbar's life and legacy will carry on beyond these stories. But even with that in place it still feels rather clumsy.
The Arbor is one of the most unusual and striking films released this year, and should be praised for taking such an odd idea and carrying it through in such an enthralling way. Aside from a number of tough moments, it has technical and narrative flaws which prevent it from being a complete success. But you would be hard-pushed to find another documentary which is this hard-hitting, or another art film which is this understated. An intriguing and insightful piece of work.
I'll bet you've never seen a documentary quite like "The Arbor." In this movie, ostensibly about the late playwright Andrea Dunbar, it has actors lip-synching testimony given by friends and relatives. But the story does not stop with her death, as it continues with her three children, especially the oldest, Lorraine, whose father is of Pakistani origin at a time when racism was particularly virulent.
Actually, "The Arbor" is an incisive documentary about how much a person's life is defined by their environment and how they are raised. There is plenty of archival footage comparing the poverty strewn streets of Andrea's time to the present, along with scenes peformed outside there from one of her plays carried out in front of an appreciative audience. It was presumed by outsiders with the success she had that she would use it to escape but she never did make it out, spending much of her free time in the local pub. When it came to her three children, two would go on to live apparently stable lives. It is Lorraine that has the troubled life of tragedy, as sexual abuse is mentioned also.
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