FILM REVIEW: GOTTFRIED HELNWEIN AND THE DREAMING CHILD

A scene from Gottfried Helnwein and the Dreaming Child.

What is a kid suppose to do?

By Miranda Inganni

Near the beginning of Lisa Kirk Colburn’s documentary, Gottfried Helnwein and the Dreaming Child, Austrian-born artist Gottfried Helnwein states that there is far too much child abuse in the world. He emphasizes that child abuse includes child labor. This point becomes relevant later on in the film when we learn that Helnwein feels strongly that an actual child should play the titular character in the Israeli Opera’s 2010 production of the opera, The Child Dream, for which Helnwein is the production designer. Unfortunately for Helnwein, there are pesky rules and regulations regarding child labor in Israel which prevent him from being able to take advantage of the very thing he rails against.

Feeling more like the “extras” you would get on a DVD, Gottfried Helnwein and the Dreaming Child is missing focus and the foundation of basic story telling: a beginning, middle and an ending. We see Helnwein at work in his studio (he lives in Los Angeles, CA and in Ireland) on his photo-realistic paintings of children (often depicted as bloodied and/or ghostly white), describing what life was like for him growing up in post-World War II Austria and slopping blood-red paint on the costumes of some of the (allowed children) actresses in The Child Dream. Additionally, there are interviews with various Israeli Opera members, The Child Dream’s director Omri Nitzan and the opera’s composer Gil Shohat. While Colburn’s film never reveals what the opera is actually about (it is based on the play of the same name by Hanoch Levin), we do learn that almost everyone involved was excited to have Helnwein join the crew.

Branding himself as I-don’t-know-what exactly, Helnwein wears sunglasses through the film and his creative process (how does this not impinge on his ability to see light and darkness as those without light-dimming glasses?), all-black clothing and brow-banishing bandanas. I can’t help but wonder if he is more concerned about presenting a certain image than he is about his work as an artist. He explains that children represent innocence and the betrayal of that innocence -- this theme is repeated in his work –--and is what he (and others) believes the opera is about.

Rather than look at the seemingly contradicatory work of Helnwein's art, Colburn’s film is a homage to Helnwein and while the documentary doesn’t necessarily raise questions, disappointingly, it doesn’t answer any that the average viewer might be inclined to ask.

 

 

SXSW 2011: BUCK

A scene from Buck.

Horsing around

By John Esther

Thanks to some film festival publicity targeted toward the lowest common denominator for a documentary (at SXSW as well as Sundance), I was under the impression director Cindy Meehl's documentary about Buck Brannaman, a man who has a superior way with horses, was going to be a mammal apple love fest a la director Robert Redford's The Horse Whisperer or bubble gum patriarchal psychology vis-à-vis Dog Whisperer.

Fortunately, Buck is a lot more sophisticated, engaging and legitimate than the 1998 film supposedly inspired by Brannaman (he also served as an advisor) or the National Geographic show starring Cesar Millan.

Raised by his father after his mother's death, Brannaman and his brother were continually abused by their sole parent until a school coach intervened. Mercifully the boys were placed in a loving and very large foster home with parents he did not fear (for long).

Although a roping phenomenon as a child, Brannaman soon gravitated toward the care and compassion of horses. Refusing to pass on the violence he endured from his father and rebelling against the traditionally violent methods of "breaking" horses, Brannaman forged a reputation as a man of reason of the people and for the horses.

Buck follows Brannaman on the road, where he spends nine months of the year teaching four-day seminars in "colt starting," translating his learned empathy for potential victims into human endeavor. A straight shooter, Brannaman's successful results with horses, along with what Redford in the documentary calls "authenticity," have a great affect on the horses and their owners. Horses settle down. Owners throw down their weapons. There is harmony amongst these mammals.

Although there are a few quibbles to be raised, Buck's greatest omission is the failure to address Brannaman and company's attitude toward cows and bulls, which are often treated as objects of sport (e.g. roping training and competitions). And I could not find any source claiming Brannaman is a vegetarian. What makes horses better than other animals? It seems it is like what Comrade Napoleon and company say in George Orwell's novel, Animal Farm: "All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others."

A documentary that should do modestly well in theaters with a long shelve life for home-viewing afterward -- perhaps even in areas of the country where documentaries rarely do well -- despite its shortcomings, Buck offers something better than the hype.