Mistrial and error
If you like watching full-length feature films, watch short films. If you like watching short films, watch TV series. If you like watching TV series, watch documentaries. If you like watching documentaries, watch more documentaries. Why so? Because this way, you won’t be a stranger to any of the varied joys that cinema has to offer.
In simpler words, don’t miss anything.
There’s so much to watch and importantly, so much to experience. If you can’t Netflix and chill, kindly download and share. One lifetime and 24-hours-a-day won’t cut it anyway. Also, the reason i harped on documentaries specifically is thanks to what i did over the past weekend.
I finally watched O.J.: Made in America (2016). Spanning almost eight hours — carefully divided into 5 parts — it is unequivocally a must-watch. Almost all documentaries rely on strong research but what sets this film apart is the manner every single facet, every single corner, are melded together. A gorgeous mosaic of recorded history. You might be in 2017 but this documentary makes you feel like you are in the racial throes of ’60s, ’70s, ’80s and then ’90s America. The sweet irony being its protagonist’s adamant recourse to keeping things colour-free. Whatever that meant, other than blatant hypocrisy and shrewd opportunism.
Since i gave away spoilers in my previous blog post, you won’t find any in this one. Except the repeated reminder that documentaries — when well made and well received — have what it takes to make a difference. Movies, for all their noble intentions and meticulous finesse, tend to fall short. Heart over mind over matter. On the contrary, documentaries push cameras into areas where no lens has been before. And by doing so, it broadens the horizon of possibilities. Suffice to say, it’s always better to maintain a balance. If we can appreciate the musical hypnosis of La La Land (2016), then we must make an attempt to acknowledge the elephantine pangs of The Ivory Game (2016) too. What’s the harm in trying?
Going back to O.J., the documentary is supposed to be about the most popular trial of the 20th century. However, as the film progresses, you learn that the trial is merely a euphemism for something bigger, much bigger, than all the vested parties. Blood had flown for way too long and some of it has dried way too early. Oppression has given way to rage has given way to bias. Nothing is what it seems, whichever colour you choose. What you see is an affront to the hidden ground realities. As a punishment, justice becomes a non-operative word in the court of law. By the end of the circus, you ask yourself a not-so-gentle question: Is it always going to be like this? After all, the case ended two decades ago and yet the remnants of our collective prejudice comfortably loom over us.
