Doc Corner: Surprise Nominee, 'A House Made of Splinters'

By Glenn Dunks

I wasn’t expecting to have to review this movie so early. Until little more than a week before the 85^th Academy Awards, Simon Lereng Wilmont’s film about Ukrainian children didn’t even have an American distribution deal. PBS and POV swooped in just in time, acquiring the rights to a film that nobody had on their predictions and yet ultimately landed a surprise nomination for Best Documentary Feature alongside more recognised titles All That Breathes, All the Beauty and the Bloodshed, Fire of Love and Navalny (all titles we have looked at over the last year).

The movie had of course been on my radar for a while. Wilmont’s previous film, The Distant Barking of Dogs, was one of the great documentaries of the 2010s. A House Made of Splinters doesn’t quite reach the five-star heights of that one, because it has less of a laser focus. But it’s a beautiful, aching story and it is definitely not just making up the numbers on the Academy’s five.

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Doc Corner: A to Z of the Longlist (Part 4)

By Glenn Dunks

As we carry forth alphabetically along our merry way through the Academy's 144-title long-list (yes, we'll still be going both after the shortlist as well as after the nominations next week—click here for A through J) we have coincidentally found two consecutive titles about the city of New Orleans. Bost missed the shortlist, which isn't surprising although they each have their virtues. Following these, however, is one film that did make the Oscar shortlist and that doesn't make quite such convenient bedfellows, but rules are rules and we're dealing with what the alphabet gives us.

The strongest of the pair from Louisiana is Katrina Babies, Edward Buckles’ partly autobiographical account of life in the city post Hurricane Katrina. Buckles uses a mixture of interviews, archival news footage and colourful animation to tell the story of how this natural event destroyed the way of life of so many, but in particular a group of children who knew no other life and were quickly forced to grow up.

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Doc Corner: A to Z of the Longlist (Part 3)

By Glenn Dunks

Continuing our A to Z march through the documentary longlist (yes, even if has already been whittled down) in the lead up to our best of the year list.

In previous weeks we have looked at letters A through C and then D through F. This week brings a few big hitters of documentary in 2022 including one high profile absentee from the Academy’s shortlist of 15 (Good Night Oppy), a surprise inclusion on that same list (Hallejulah: Leonard Cohen, A Journey, A Song) and a quiet indie achievement that won acclaim and awards on the festival circuit (I Didn’t See You There).

Good Night Oppy begins with elaborate visual effects, generous narration from Angela Bassett, and an introduction to a robot character with eyes on being a Wall-E for the science nerds. I was immediately turned off.

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Doc Corner: A to Z of the Longlist (Part 2)

By Glenn Dunks

The Academy may have released their shortlist for the Best Documentary Feature category, but we’re going to continue our A to Z skim through the 144-wide longlist as a means of playing catch-up before I do my annual best of documentary list for the year. Last time we looked at Shaunak Sen’s sorta-frontrunner All That Breathes, Paweł Łoziński’s EFA nominee The Balcony Movie, and Hà Lệ Diễm’s dark horse contender Children of the Mist.

DESCENDANT

This week, themes of racism, authoritarianism and war are a heady and heavy mix. All of them come with some sort of Oscar pedigree, although only one has made it to the next round of the Academy’s race to a nomination...

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Doc Corner: 'The Super 8 Years'

By Glenn Dunks

At one point early on in The Super 8 Years (Les années Super 8), Annie Ernaux notes in her soothing, authorial voice that a trip to the countryside—all tall grass, wildflowers, and mud—was like experiencing nostalgia for something she had never even experienced before. A sort of primal part of the human existence that wishes for the calm, the peace, and the relative relaxation of existing within nature without the extravagancies of modern life. It’s an amusing bon mot from the Nobel Prize winner, since this documentary feeds into that very concept:

I have never experienced the world that Ernaux embeds us in, but she welcomes the viewer through narration and the intuitive editing of Clément Pinteaux in such a manner that it feels like reliving a memory that I have never experienced. I was transported. A brisk dream of 65-minutes built entirely out of her family’s super 8 camera home movies that is all fleeting memories stung with melancholy and bliss.

Come to think of it, a more fitting double-feature with Charlotte Wells’ Aftersun I could not imagine.

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