Exit Through the Gift Shop (2010) ***

The satirical 2010 documentary Exit Through the Gift Shop explores the mysterious artist known as Banksy.  Based in England, Banksy's style calls to mind Warhol, Tarantino, and Che Guevara. He leaves subversive, ironic pieces of art at strategic locations around the world. For example, he once visited Disneyland and left a dummy of a Guantanamo prisoner beside the Thunder Mountain rollercoaster - much to the chagrin of Disney Security.  In a suspicious twist, Banksy takes over directing duties halfway through the film and the focus then shifts to Mr. Brainwash (who had been filming Bansky). We also meet other street artists such as Invader, who creates images from the classic video game Space Invaders.  Or Shepard Fairey, an L.A. based artist who fashions images of Andre the Giant with an "Obey" inscription.  Meanwhile Mr. Brainwash, a French expat living in LA, creates his own mash up portraits of pop culture icons, a twist on Warhol.  Mr. Brainwash evolves into a sort of doppelganger of Bansky; one who creates art for fame and fortune.  While Exit Through the Gift Shop maintains a comical tone, there's a queasy undercurrent on the inevitable commodification of all art. 

The Wrecking Crew **1/2

Many of those 60s hits still played on oldies radio feature musicians who never received credit for their contributions. "The Wrecking Crew", an unofficial group of session musicians based in Los Angeles, played a pivotal role in the evolution of American pop music. The number of hits they played on is literally the soundtrack of your life: everything from Phil Spector's Wall of Sound, the Beach Boys epochal LP Pet Sounds, Sonny and Cher, and many others. Ironically, most of the musicians were trained in jazz and looked askance at Rock and Roll.  Lively interviews with former members, including guitarist Tommy Tedesco whose son directed the documentary, take up most of the film.  As a nostalgia trip and the chance to hear some great tunes, The Wrecking Crew will return you to the era. Perhaps more detail about how the crew worked with the artists would've been more interesting rather than an endless stream of "good old days" anecdotes.  For example, the making of Pet Sounds could stand as a documentary on its own.  Nevertheless, The Wrecking Crew fills a gap in the history of American music as portrayed on film.

For the Love of Movies: The Story of American Film Criticism ***

From 2008, the documentary For the Love of Movies examines the evolution of film criticism.  Interviews with critics of varying backgrounds describe their love of film and why they write about it.

Vachel Lindsay's book The Art of the Moving Picture (1915) is credited with being the first serious study of movies .  As movies matured, film criticism followed suit.  By the 60s and 70s critics were at the height of their influence on the culture. Their reviews could make or break a film.  Some critics even went on to make their own movies, Peter Bogdanovich and Paul Schrader being two examples.  

At The Village Voice Andrew Sarris popularized the French New Wave auteur theory, the idea that film directors are like the author of a novel. Pauline Kael's iconoclastic reviews for the The New Yorker revolutionized film criticism with incisive, deeply personal, stream of consciousness writing.

By the 1980s, a new crop of critics fueled by the video store revolution embraced mass media and film geekdom. Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert's weekly TV show turned the film critic into a something of a pop culture icon.  Meanwhile a backlash arose against "elitist" critics who sneered at Hollywood's growing reliance on blockbusters. The rise of the internet leveled the playing field and gave rise to the cliche "everyone is a critic."

The documentary contends film criticism no longer matters. True to a certain extent, but the more voices the better.  The good ones will stand out from the crowd. While podcasts and blogs have added so much to the conversation, it's increasingly difficult to make a living at it.  

Print critics are still important as well. My favorites are Dana Stevens at Slate, A.O Scott at the New York Times, and David Thomson at Film Comment. All carry the torch of well informed critical writing.

Good criticism remains the same in whatever form it appears.  For a history of the craft - check out For the Love of Movies (currently streaming on Netflix).

Salesman **** (1968)

Stories about salesman are the barometer American culture. From Arthur Miller's tragic Willy Loman to David Mamet's sleazy real estate firm in Glengarry Glen Ross to Scorsese's crew of amoral stock brokers in The Wolf of Wall Street - all expose an evolving American ethos.  Unlike the others, The Maysles Brothers documentary Salesman captured the real thing and exposed the false promise of capitalism in the process.  What better subject than using the bible as a profit making tool?  As Dylan wrote in "It's All Right Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)", "It's easy to see without looking too far/that not much is really sacred."

Cameras follow four bible salesman and record their interactions among themselves and customers. Typically they interact with housewives, but sometimes others enter the picture.  In a bizarre moment a husband starts playing loud music (Muzak versions of Beatle songs) on a gigantic stereo as the salesman performs his pitch. The camera captures every nuance as they employ every means necessary to sell their bibles.

Early on in Salesman, their boss, a humorless motivational speaker, delivers a soul sucking speech basically saying if you cannot make the sales you are a failure as a person. Meanwhile other salesman stand up and deliver "motivational" speeches about their prowess with sales, each trying to top the other.  That is their world.

The film pays particular attention to "Badger", an aging salesman in a serious slump. As he observes his younger colleagues achieve success, he grows increasingly cynical. So he starts to use questionable methods such as putting customers on guilt trips, shaming them, even going for their sympathy.  Despite his pettiness, we oddly identify with him and root for him to get the sale.

Unlike modern documentaries, Salesman's not an op-ed piece. The camera simply reveals a reality.  There's no talking heads, animated sequences, or stock footage from old movies. What you see on screen is what you get.

Stardust Memories *** (1980)

Stardust Memories follows fictional director Sandy Bates (Woody Allen) as he attends a retrospective of his earlier, funnier films.  Gordon Willis shot the film in pristine back and white.  Allusions to Bergman and Fellini are plentiful in Allen's satire of film culture. At the festival, Sandy finds himself assaulted by hangers on offering him scripts, out of work actors begging for parts in his films, critics asking pretentious questions, and his legion of movie geeks. There's a great irony there, because the geeks now run Hollywood and every one's a critic these days. Meanwhile, he juggles relationships with two women and gets advice from Martian visitors.  Set at the beginning of the 80s, in a world free of i-phones and instagram, Stardust Memories looks even more refined in 2015.

The Lazarus Effect *1/2

The Lazarus Effect begins as a Sc-Fi parable and erupts into a full fledged horror film. With two charming leads in Mark Duplass and Olivia Wilde (who deserve better material), The Lazarus Effect quickly goes off the rails into total incoherence. Duplass and Wilde play medical scientists who dabble with a serum that can revive the dead.  After their lab is closed by a mysterious corporation, they perform the experiments on their own with painfully predictable results. The Frankenstein theme goes nowhere. Then the film inexplicably transitions into a zombie movie without any explanation!  At 80 minutes, The Lazarus Effect at least ends soon enough.

O Lucky Man! ***1/2 (1973)

O Lucky Man! follows the coffee salesman Michael Travis in his dreamlike odyssey through 1970s Great Britain.  

Malcolm McDowell wrote the story and played the lead role.  Told in the style of a picaresque tale, Travis interacts with all levels of English society- the business class, rock stars, the military, and the poor. Needless to say at every station of life he witnesses the cruelty and hypocrisy of humanity.  Actors appear in multiple roles in different points in the film, most notably a young Helen Mirren.

Directed with flare by Lindsay Anderson, who also directed Malcolm McDowell in If, a performance that got the attention of Stanley Kubrick who cast him as the Alex in A Clockwork Orange, a persona McDowell never escaped.  O Lucky Man! references Clockwork several times, and interestingly shares many of the same themes.  A box office flop in 1973, O Lucky Man! has since earned a cult following.

Throughout the film there are several musical interludes, a sort of Greek Chorus commenting on the action in the guise of a power pop band led by Alan Price.  The set looks like the one the Beatles used in Let it Be.  The music's really, really good.  Highlights include "Poor People" and "Sell Sell."

There's a spontaneity in O Lucky Man! one hardly finds these days.  On the commentary track, McDowell recalls writing the script in various pubs throughout England and how many of the scenes were improvised on the spot - an exemplar of 70s cinema.