Documentary explorations at the 67th Berlinale: "Beuys" and "Monsieur Mayonnaise"

Of the 18 films in the Competition section of this Berlinale, there is only one documentary vying for the Golden and Silver Bears, the remarkable Beuys, directed by Andres Veiel.

Beuys paints a tantalizing portrait of Joseph Beuys (1921-1986), the German avant-garde sculptor and performance artist, whose teachings, artwork and installations sought to redefine and expand the place and function of art in modern society.  If anything, the film is a feat of research and editing, as the director noted in the press conference: 20,000 photos, 400 hours of video and 18 months of editing. 

What makes this documentary compelling is not the Sisyphean task of sorting through archival footage, but the way these building blocks have been organized to yield a film that combines a poetic and performative approach to the life and work of an artist.  I use the terms “poetic” and “performative” in the sense of Bill Nichols’ documentary modes, six useful categories to help the students make sense of that vast continent we call the non-fiction film.  (In his words: “The poetic stresses tvisual and acoustic rhythms, patterns and the overall form of the film … the performative emphasizes the expressive quality of the filmmaker’s engagement with the film’s subject, and addresses the audience in a vivid way “, Introduction to Documentary, 2^nd edition, 2010).

Beuys has no narrator, the story does not follow a strictly chronological order, there is no climax, and the talking heads are few and far between.  And yet, the portrait has clear contours and a moving depth, partly by lingering on photos of Beuys’ haunted face and the scope of his projects – like planting 7,000 oak trees, with a stone next to each one, the tree grows, the stone doesn’t, hence the statement.  A recurring visual device is the use of a large display of contact sheets, with the camera zooming into photos to open up short narratives, or stringing them together for a motion effect., very pop art. 

The mark of a good documentary like Beuys, simply put, is that at the end you are still asking, no, begging the filmmaker to tell you more …

Along different lines, and in the Culinary section of the festival (eleven years old now, and pairing films with chefs that cook meals inspired by them), I saw an Australian documentary, Monsieur Mayonnaise, featuring the LA-based filmmaker Philippe Mora, a dear friend, two of whose 1970s documentaries I feature in my class every semester, Swastika and Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?.  

Directed by Trevor Graham, a filmmaker based in Melbourne, Monsieur Mayonnaise follows Philippe Mora engaged in two tasks, one pursuing his personal history  - that of an emblematic European Jewish family marked the hecatomb of World War II - and the other, Mora the painter making a comic book from these facts in Los Angeles today.  The documentary is engagingly observational - Mora is a born storyteller and entertainer - as the director accompanies Mora in various trip:  Melbourne, to see his mother (a force of life) and brother, and to Leipzig and Paris to interview people and dig in archives.  Mora carries his easel, canvas and brushes, to capture places and paint emotions in bright colors - the Eiffel Tower and the Branderburg Gate are iconic locations in his search.  There are significant expository sections about key moments of his father and mother: they met in Paris after the war and later settled in Australia where they opened a restaurant. Their life story is explained with photos, documents, anecdotes, and, of course the mayonnaise recipe of the title.

It would seem that the subject matter of Monsieur Mayonnaise – the title comes from the nom de guerre of Mora’s father, who was a member of the Résistance, as the film explains – is not the stuff of comedy. But this is the road taken by the film, and it feels integral to the story, with Mora as its narrator, on camera and voice over. He is first seen, shot in black and white, writing his family history on a vintage typewriter as a Hollywood writer in the 1940s working on a film noir. It id a distancing effect repeated throughout the film, that sets the comedic tone and poke some fun at the artistic style of the era.  This narrative conceit, and the humorous tone of Mora’s narrating his family escape, gives this serious film a light touch. 

Perhaps the most valuable lesson of this film for my documentary class, is how Graham and Mora succeed in transcending the “home movieness” of their materials. They embed a family story, woven from anecdotes, fading photos and assorted documents, into the larger tapestry of 20^th century.