LAFF 2014: EVOLUTION OF A CRIMINAL

Darius Clark Monroe in Evolution of a Criminal.

Easy come, difficulties grow

By Miranda Inganni

When he was 16, Darius Clark Monroe and two of his classmates decided to rob a bank at gunpoint. Ten years later, Monroe’s film, Evolution of a Criminal, depicts this criminal episode of his life, what lead up to the robbery and how it affected him, his family and the victims of his crime.

Growing up in the outskirts of Houston, TX, Monroe was a good student and loving child. Unfortunately, he learned a little too much about his parents’ financial woes. He heard too often his mother complain about their mounting credit card debt and the struggles of living from paycheck to paycheck. Trying to be a good son, Monroe got a job at a local big box store and kept his nose to the high school grindstone. After a frightening home break-in, in which all of the family’s valuables -- most notably the VCRs, a gun and his stepfather’s full paycheck -- were stolen, something changed for Monroe. 

The brazen thieves had kicked in the basement door, climbed through the attic and busted a hole in Monroe’s bedroom ceiling to gain entry to the house. Monroe reasoned that he could simply replace the stolen VCRs with some from the store at which he worked and easily made that happen. Shortly thereafter, Monroe and his friends came up with the plan to rob a small, local branch of a bank. Armed with a shotgun, Monroe and his friend stormed the bank, while their other buddy waited in the getaway car.

Due to the severity of the crime, in which they stole about $140,000 and held a number of people at gunpoint, Monroe was tried as an adult and found guilty. He was incarcerated. 

But that is not where the story ends. Rather than become a criminal for life, Monroe had more creative plans. 

Evolution of a Criminal combines home movies, interviews with family members, former teachers and some of the victims, plus some reenactments to explore what happened and what it lead to Monroe's criminal enterprise. 

One of the many documentaries offered at Los Angeles Film Festival 2014, Evolution of a Criminal offers a sobering exploration of what can (and all too often does) go wrong for young men trying to better their lives through “easy” means.

SXSW 2013: COMPUTER CHESS

A scene from Computer Chess.

Slouching toward Alphaville

By Don Simpson

Andrew Bukalski’s Computer Chess is exactly what I would imagine an immersive documentary about computer chess programmers circa 1980 to look like. Modeled loosely as a first person — dare I say “found footage” — narrative, Bujalski’s film documents a computer chess tournament a few years before computers are expected to conquer humans…at least within the realm of the 64 squares of the chess board. As if these programmers learned nothing from 2001: A Space Odyssey or Battlestar Galactica, they teach their respective team’s computer to play a board game that was developed centuries ago by humans, for humans.

To win at chess, one must be able to predict his or her opponent’s future moves; presumably these programmers are on the cusp of developing code that will allow computers to do just that, anticipate the decisions that a human will make in the future. Imagine the possibilities in military, political, financial and marketing strategizing if computers could accurately predict human behavior. Essentially, these hyper-intelligent men -- and let’s not forget the one woman -- are laying the groundwork for Artificial Intelligence. You might call it a god complex, their desire to develop a form of consciousness purely out of circuitry and code. Bujalski, however, doesn’t present us with a heavy-handed diatribe about computer programmers with god complexes; these are just a bunch of nerds who can effortlessly ramble on and on and on about technology to eye-glazing — and eye-rolling — proportions. Carbray (James Curry) is the perfect example of a programmer who seems to speak in a language that indecipherable to anyone but himself. The meandering linguistic smokescreen befuddles whoever is listening to him, rendering them powerless in debating his oblique hypotheses. It is the Computer Chess ensemble’s propensity for philosophizing that reminds me of Richard Linklater’s Slacker but, whereas Linklater’s film ruminates upon the existential crises of humans, Bujalski’s film expounds upon the existential crises of synthetic consciousness.

Bujalski makes an interesting decision to juxtapose the technology-driven participants of the computer chess conference with the followers of a new age guru from Africa. The guru professes the significance of the human heart and soul, teaching his followers to be more open and loving to others. The computer chess teams are secretive and competitive. They are focused on exploring a mechanical consciousness rather than looking inward towards their own. This tactic may seem a bit too contrived -- that is until the two groups interact with each other, then Bujalski’s approach makes a lot more sense.

Winner of the Alfred P. Sloan at this year's Sundance Film Festival, Computer Chess carefully balances high-minded philosophy with comedy and pathos. All the while, Bujalski achieves an ultimate level of realism by enlisting a cast of computer savvy actors and non-actors who at least seem like they know what they’re rambling on about. The production design is the real show-stopper though; this is a masterfully stylized film saturated with authenticity.