PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY: LIKE A WARM REUNION WITH AN OLD FRIEND

Photographic Memory marks the welcome return of documentary filmmaker Ross McElwee (Sherman's March, Time Indefinite).  When McElwee first burst on the scene, his work was unique for the way it blurred the line between subject and maker; McElwee has always been front and center in his films, using the base materials of his life as narrative elements that guide his stories towards undetermined places. 

For better or worse, his style has become a common strategy in non-fiction filmmaking, so much so that when I recently tried to explain who McElwee was to a friend, they responded, "so is he the one to blame for Morgan Spurlock, then?"  Which is kind of neither here nor there, as Spurlock has made good work in the past and has even shown some signs of growth in his recent projects.  McElwee, on the other hand, has never exploited his style in a self-aggrandizing way; in fact, most of his films have been deeply introspective, questioning his own flaws and always finding a larger theme to anchor the overall piece.

Such is the case with Photographic Memory.  The film finds McElwee struggling to understand and connect with his teenage son Adrian.  Ross shares the worries that many have about their kids, that they're unfocused, lost, experimenting too heavily with drugs, alcohol, and other risky behaviors.  Adrian has many creative interests.  Like his father, he's constantly filming himself and his friends (mostly while snowboarding backwards).  He's also interested in web design and is trying to become an entrepreneur of sorts.  But, as Ross points out, there are just far too many interests and only so much energy, so much of what the younger McElwee begins ends up poorly done or unfinished.

While questioning his son's behavior, McElwee begins to dive back into his own past to examine what he was up to when he was his son's age.  The investigation sends him back to St. Quay-Portrieux in Brittany where he once worked as a photographer's assistant, before being fired in a mix-up about lost negatives.  McElwee searches for his former employer as well as an old flame, ruminating on his past as he journeys through the familiar and forgotten spaces of the small French town by the sea.

Photographic Memory feels like a warm reunion with an old friend.  If you've loved any of McElwee's prior works, you'll instantly be drawn back into the kind of unguarded, reflective video journals that McElwee is brave enough to share with his audiences.  For those who have never encountered a Ross McElwee film, this is as good enough a place to start as any, as it certainly contains more than enough universally experienced material as it filters through its maker's most recent set of concerns. 

Recommended.

Photographic Memory screens at the IFC Center in NYC on Friday, October 12th.  More info available here.

 
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GIRL MODEL: YOUTH FOR SALE

A long line of very young girls in bathing suits winds in and around the backstage of a theater.  As the camera weaves through the queue each girl notices it, reflexively smiling or pivoting towards it and adopting a less natural pose than prior to their awareness of being captured by its lens.  Thus begins Girl Model, the new documentary by David Redmon (Mardi Gras: Made in China)  and Ashley Sabin (Intimidad), about the recruitment, exploitation, and, in many cases, abandonment of underage Siberian girls by unscrupulous modeling agencies seeking to sate the Japanese market's hunger for images of budding femininity.

Watching that opening, one is reminded of a cattle sale or the 4H tent at a state fair, as each girl lands the stage to be judged by former model Ashley Arbaugh and her fellow modeling scouts.  Arbaugh becomes our guide through this world.  She's a complex character, still suffering from the memories of her own journey through the meat grinder that is this trade, while continuing, despite her qualms, to supply the industry with young flesh to photograph.  At this particular audition, Arbaugh ends up picking up 13-year old Nadya Vall for a contract on the Japanese market.

Like many of these girls, Nadya comes from an extremely poor family.  We get to see how little she has at home and how the promise of riches from a successful modeling career could mean a lot to both her and her family.  Even if she isn't able to find work, Nadya's agency is required by immigration to guarantee her at least two modeling jobs and a lump sum.  But, once she arrives in Japan, it's an entirely different picture.  She bunks with another model her age in a dreary, box-sized apartment, leaving each day to audition for gigs she can't book.  Instead of working, we learn that Nadya and her roommate's debts to the agency are growing, promoting the already niggling feeling that these girls have been sold into some form of slavery.

Girl Model is an anguishing, anxiety-inducing view of an unethical and, for all intents and purposes, unregulated trade dealing in human flesh.  As a product of this system, Arbaugh becomes both the victim and unlikely villain of this story, as whatever sympathy the viewer harbors for her eventually fades away after being exposed to her callous statements and complicit behaviors.  Though she provides much insight into the psychic damage that can be wrought on young girls in the industry, she strikes a pose not unlike Cruella De Vil during much of the film.  To a certain extent, the conflicts exhibited within Arbaugh paint an ugly picture of what Nadya and others like her might expect to become at the end of their journeys.  

Directors Redmon and Sabin have crafted a disturbing look at a reality worth confronting, even if it enrages one's sensibilities as it engages with its subject.  It would be a stretch to laud Girl Model as a pleasure to behold, but it does pull the viewer into spaces rarely explored, evoking questions and concerns, which is all you really can ask of a socially minded doc.

Recommended viewing.

Girl Model opens at the IFC Center in NYC on Friday, September 5th.  It will play locally at the Clinton Street Theater beginning November 30th.  More info available here.

 
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