What do an elderly topiary gardener, a retired lion tamer, a man fascinated by mole rats, and a cutting-edge robotics designer have in common? Both nothing and everything in this ... See full summary »
Early Errol Morris documentary intersplices random chatter he captured on film of the genuinely eccentric residents of Vernon, Florida. A few examples? The preacher giving a sermon on the ... See full summary »
In Errol Morris's fourth of six shorts for ESPN Films, we learn, through a former Mr. Met, what it's like to be a mascot - to be beloved, but voiceless - and what happens to one's identity when the time comes to take the suit off.
Amazing series primarily using Errol Morris' invention the Interrotron for unusual people to tell their outré stories directly into the camera to the viewer. Almost every half-hour ... See full summary »
Famously rigorous filmmaker Errol Morris sits a subject in front of him and the subject won't budge. This is, unfortunately, the takeaway from this documentary - a tremendous disappointment of a film in some way, but an extraordinary documentation of psychosis in another.
Rumsfeld apparently so annoyed Morris with his crafty replies that the director felt it necessary to follow up his film with a wild press tour apologizing for it - including a four part investigation into Rumsfeld's evasiveness in a New York times op-ed. In another article he called this film 'a horror movie'.
And it's understandable. Those who were against the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan will be infuriated- it gives us no new answers as to the motives behind the wars, no candid insights into Rumsfeld's tenure, and instead presents us with the same smirking blur of a man that we all got to know from his press conferences. Without a glint of uncertainty in his eye, he repeats essentially the same shtick as he always has. Direct questions are deflected with a grin and a wave.
Indeed, nobody deserves to be investigated more than Rumsfeld or his former compatriots, and Morris would ordinarily be the man to do it. But for an encounter to take place between two people, both need to be there. In this case one was absent. Those expecting a one on one - a whittling away towards the real substance - will leave empty handed because Rumsfeld is a ghost. There ain't nothing there. We've all been punk'd.
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