I Lived, But ...

Kazuo Inoue's documentary on the director Yasujiro Ozu, I Lived, But ... (1983), is a stunning achievement. It represents a comprehensive and compelling summary of his filmography and a touching portrayal of the director's personal life. The mystery surrounding the kanji mu (embedded on Ozu's grave) is also nicely explored.

Through clips of actual behind-the-scenes footage, interviews and thousands of photos, Inoue manages to build a truly brilliant biography of the great director. Especially the interviews of the stars of his films are essential and Sugimura's interview gives the film the required sentimental touch which makes it more unforgettable than any other documentary. There's also a great deal of imagery used a bit like Ozu's pillow shots accompanied with great music. They serve in a nicely cathartic way along with giving the documentary a relaxing pace and mood.

The name is not only a clever reference to Ozu's early filmography, but it also captures the possible internal conflict of the director's loneliness. Inoue employs a number of little subtle things like this to get under the viewer's skin and manages to move us by the end of the film by giving Ozu the respect he deserves.

Score: 10 out of 10

The Game of Their Lives

Daniel Gordon's documentary The Game of Their Lives (2002) tells the incredible story of North Korea's national football team's adventure in the 1966 World Cup tournament. They shocked the entire world by defeating Italy in the group phase and thus, forced the old World Cup champions to drop out of the tournament.

Despite the film's questionably sympathetic depiction of North Korea it provides great insight into one of the biggest mysteries of football history. The documentary is dominated by old footage of the tournament and makes the most out of it, which isn't exactly hard since the subject is interesting. The director also travelled to North Korea to interview the few surviving members of the team and the bits of the interviews used in the film are great. I'm not sure if the great responses can be credited to the efforts of the interviewer(s) or the openness of the players themselves. Nevertheless, their own comments are essential for the documentary.

The documentary is not without its faults. It uses a few rather underhanded tricks to emotionally involve its audience and it can be asked whether the director had his own agenda with the film since it makes North Korea look like the most pleasant country on Earth. Which in turns makes one wonder how truthful the documentary is in the end.

Score: 7 out of 10

24 Realities per Second

Nina Kusturica and Eva Testor's documentary on Michael Haneke, 24 Realities per Second (named after a famous quote by the director), could have provided great insight into the work of one of the most fascinating European directors working today. Even though there are intriguing scenes of him working on the set and answering questions of the interviewers and the audience at a screening the clips don't hold together very well - especially because transitions are completely missing. 

Haneke's thoughts are interesting on their own, but in the end they are rather sparse and are not though-provoking because the structure of the documentary doesn't let them become memorable. Without giving a clear focus to anything the film is too fragmented to give a strong image of the director or the films he makes.

No matter how badly the presentation is failed the director is a fascinating person when he opens up for the camera and that makes the documentary watchable.

Score: 5 out of 10

Tokyo-Ga

Wim Wenders' Tokyo-Ga (1985) is a documentary about his journey to Tokyo to find out whether the Japan (and Tokyo) portrayed in Yasujiro Ozu's films can still be found. The documentary consists of beautiful imagery Wenders himself shot while going around looking for the interesting bits of Japanese culture in the capital city. There are also interviews with Chishu Ryu (an actor who often worked with Ozu) and Yuuharu Atsuta (a cinematographer who worked with Ozu for 15 years).

The beautiful (and well paced) footage is sometimes narrated by the director himself who provides fascinating insight for anyone interested in the director (or the country itself). The documentary evokes nostalgia similar to Ozu's films - this time it's a bit different because Japan's social and cultural development has gone so much further (in both good and bad ways).

In short: Tokyo-Ga is the best documentary I've ever seen.

Score: 10 out of 10

A Man with a Movie Camera

Dziga Vertov's A Man with a Movie Camera (1929) is an experimental silent film, the next logical step after Eisenstein's Battleship Potemkin (1925) in silent Soviet cinema. The film begins by telling the audience that the entire film consists of real life footage and nothing was staged. We get to see two cameramen spontaneously film Russia in the 20's. The most obvious comparison must be made to Reggio's Koyaanisqatsi (1982) because the two are so similar in narrative and tone. Even though I'm not a big fan of Koyaanisqatsi, I utterly adored A Man with a Movie Camera.

The film uses pretty much every possible formal technique discovered by the time the film was made - and it was innovative by creating something new as well. Slow motion, fast motion, split screen, fast cutting, long takes, cross-cutting, kinetic compositions and unbelieveable camera movement - this film has them all. What is even better is that the film employs all these techniques flawlessly and smoothly.

Vertov explores the wide subject in a surprisingly precise and colorful way. At the same time it coldly observes, adores and criticizes the trends of its time.

Score: 10 out of 10

Voyage in Time

Andrei Tarkovsky's and Tonino Guerra's documentary, Voyage in Time (1983), takes a look at Tarkovsky's journey in Italy when he prepares to film his second last film, Nostalgia (1983). The documentary is shot and edited in a way that is similar to Tarkovsky's films: long takes, a calm pace and lovely imagery. Sometimes the camera wanders elsewhere while Tarkovsky and Guerra continue their discussion. The film's fragmented yet fascinating take on Tarkovsky's journey makes this documentary a worthwhile production for the director's fans. His speeches about cinema and his influences, his exploration of possible shooting locations and his interest in Guerra's poetry make this film surprisingly profound - even when it is considered that the subject is Tarkovsky.

Score: 10 out of 10

The Kon Ichikawa Story

Shunji Iwai's documentary The Kon Ichikawa Story (2006) chronicles the life of the legendary Japanese director, Kon Ichikawa (the director of films like Fires on the Plain (1959) and Tokyo Olympaid (1965)). It creates a warm and poignant portrayal of the director and his wife who often worked together.

The intriguing aspect of this documentary is how it is constructed. Most of the information is shared via white text on black backgrounds without voice-over narration. There are photos which have oddly been manipulated to move on some occasions (you have to see the film to understand what I mean). There are also clips of Ichikawa's films used once in a while as examples. The documentary ends with a clip of Kon Ichikawa working on his last film in 2006.

Iwai's appreciation for the director becomes more and more apparent as the documentary goes on. It was a great thing to shoot a documentary like this while Ichikawa was alive - he died 2 years after this documentary was finished.

Score: 7 out of 10