Assassins and the documentary form

Fleeing the scene of the crime: Assassins

A standout documentary, Ryan White's Assassins chronicles the assassination of Kim-Jong Nam, step-brother of North Korean dictator Kim-Jong Un, at the Kuala Lumpur International Airport in 2017 and the subsequent trial of some of the perpetrators. The style of the doc is the usual Making a Murderer type mix of talking heads, CCTV clips, and graphs. What is distinctive about Assassins is the utterly bizarre nature of the crime, so I will divulge no more. I am fascinated by North Korea and its regime and have been entertained by recent documentaries on this country by Werner Herzog and Michael Palin. Even though I followed this case in real time, I was gobsmacked by some of the footage here. Of recent documentaries, only Jared Hess' Murder Among the Mormons comes close in seeming implausibility.

White is able to evoke his Asian locales in just a few succinct shots. Whether it be Pyongyang, Hanoi, Macao or the rice paddies of Indonesia, we get a real sense of place in the film. White is particularly strong in contrasting the baroque capitalist excess of Malaysia with its squalor. Sometimes he tries too hard, a segment in a Kuala Lumpur sweat shop is followed by a shot of a caged bird, but I prefer a director who shows his hand in the documentary form and I will attempt to explain why.

I think that the notion of objectivity in documentary filmmaking is a crock. No matter the intention or biases of a filmmaker, simply putting a camera in the presence of subjects changes their behavior. Two recent documentaries illustrate my point: Frederick Wiseman's City Hall and the PBS show, Philly D.A.. So unblinking in their alleged objectivity are these two films that they end up being campaign films for their protagonists: respectively former Boston Mayor Marty Walsh (now U.S. Secretary of Labor) and Philadelphia District Attorney Larry Krasner. Frankly, I'd rather see Nanook play act his life or Michael Moore confront some rascals,  than politicians signal their virtue.

A favorite documentary of my youth was D.A. Pennebaker's Don't Look Back. A look at Bob Dylan's 1965 tour of the United Kingdom, the film is chock full of great performances. Bob and Joan Baez's onstage performances are, of course, wonderful, but they are equally compelling backstage, in their hotel suites, and on the road. Memorable performances are also turned in by Bob Neuwirth, Alan Price, and a number of clueless journalists. The best and most memorable performance is by Albert Grossman as a conniving manager.

Bob Dylan and Donovan Leitch in Don't Look Back

Throughout the film, we hear about the rise of Donovan, the new folk-rock hero. Now I like Donovan's music, at least his Sixties output, well enough, but, in retrospect, he was just one in the line of "New Dylans" that the media trumpeted during that era. This continued through the Seventies with Bruce Springsteen, Elliott Murphy and, finally I think, Steve Forbert. Donovan eventually appears and offers a tune for the edification of Bob and company, the slight and somewhat charming "To Sing for You". Donovan requests Bob sing "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue" and Dylan responds by singing it, one of his many masterpieces, and showing up the young pretender with a sly and knowingly malevolent performance that was beyond Donavan's ken at the time. (though "Season of the Witch" and "Hurdy Gurdy Man" came close, later on) For what its worth, Richard Thompson believes that "... Baby Blue" was inspired by the grisly execution of the blue stocking wearing Mary Queen of Scotts. I don't think this stunning performance would have occurred in quite this way if Pennebaker's camera was not in the room. Regardless of this blither, Assassins is a must see.