Kartemquin Korner is a semi-regular feature which spotlights a particular film from Kartemquin Films, the greatest documentary collective this side of the spiral arm of the galaxy. This installment looks at the first feature documentary to be crafted by the collective, Home For Life (1966).
Home For Life was created in 1966 by two of Kartemquin’s founders, Gordon Quinn and Gerald Temaner (the “quin” and the “tem” in Kartemquin); the pair co-produced and co-directed, with Quinn handling the camera and Temaner working the sound (assisted by Richard Sato and Neill Hicks). Lois Lione was the assistant director and Gordon edited the film with help from William Clarkson. Barbara Propst was the research coordinator.
In its own way, it is a work of art rather than an artful work.
— Studs Terkel, Author
Watching Home For Life for the first time gave me the same sort of rush I got from seeing the Monadnock Building or the Manhattan Building for the first time. That feeling that you are looking at history, a prototype of a major revolution in a creative endeavor; a sensation similar to viewing early sketches of a ground breaking artist.
The film explores the Drexel Home For The Aged in Hyde Park and looks at the first day (and the next several weeks) of new residents Bertha Weinberg and William Rocklin.
Bertha Weinberg was moving into Drexel Home from the household of her Son and Daughter-in law.
Far from being a “snake pit” of neglect and abuse, Drexel Home was a very nurturing and caring environment (especially by today’s standards), and the two new residents are given extreme amounts of care as they make the hard transition to institutional life.
William Rocklin was a fastidious and fiercely independent man who was forced to face the hard realization the he could no longer care for himself adequately.
The pair are helped through this process in a variety of ways; a slew of resident physicians (cardiologist, podiatrist, psychiatrist etc.) and support staff are dispatched to evaluate the pair and provide them with the requisite treatment and assistance. Almost 50 years old, this film is literally a look at another century and (after a half-century of America’s social infrastructure being systematically gutted) is almost like a peek into a parallel dimension. Some strange fantasy world where the elderly are provided with medical/social services and people work out their differences through rational discussion and sensible compromise. Sadly enough, I had almost forgotten what this was like.
Unpacking belongings.
A piece of history as well as a fine documentary, it is only fitting that Home For Life was restored and re-released in 2007; and I strongly encourage you to rent or buy the DVD for all the extra footage and interviews (which are worth it by themselves).
Don’t let the hideous 1960’s International Style Architecture fool you- Drexel Home was a place of warmth and caring.
In the interview for the remastered edition, Quinn and Temaner discuss making the film and the innovations involved. Some were planned, like the duo rejecting pressure to include voice-overs from “experts” and instead deciding to let the footage speak for itself or showing long sequences to allow the viewer to become immersed in the narrative; but others came about as a consequence of the process- such as how Quinn (behind the camera) actually responds to a subject speaking to him and breaks the 4th Wall taboo under which documentarians had previously labored.
The bonus footage is also extremely edifying, especially a scene where the staff and management discuss concerns over new procedures as workloads are increased and duties evolve. This sequence really goes into “alien civilization” territory, as it’s almost dumbfounding to see workers and supervisors calmly and rationally working out their various problems and issues. Seriously, this film should be shown to everyone just so they might see and/or remember what that sort of dialogue process looked like.
Aside from being a fascinating artifact of A Seemingly Bygone Civil Society, Home For Life is also touching as a portrait of and meditation on the closing act of the cycle of life. The film aptly illustrates how difficult it is not only for people themselves to become old and infirm but also the emotional toll it takes upon their families and loved ones.
At the risk of sounding like a broken record- this is yet another must-see for Kartemquinites.
Drexel Home residents “getting their gamble on.” Youngsters will be stunned by the footage of people not only smoking indoors, but during business and staff meetings.
Kartemquin Korner is a semi-regular feature which spotlights a particular film from Kartemquin Films, the greatest documentary collective this side of the spiral arm of the galaxy. This installment looks at the The Trials Of Muhammad Ali (2013):
Yet another Kartemquin documentary as powerful and riveting as a great dramatic work, this film will suck you in from the opening seconds and hold you in its grip throughout. The opening sequence features footage from a 1968 British talk show in which American TV pundit David Susskind denounces Muhammad Ali (who is conveniently coming from Chicago via satellite) as “a disgrace to his country, his race, and to what he laughingly describes as his profession” and “a simplistic fool and a pawn.” Cut to the next sequence from a 2005 White House Ceremony in which Ali was given the Medal Of Freedom by George W. Bush and is introduced as “one of the greatest athletes of all time.”
The Trials Of Muhammad Ali explores how he went from being pilloried and vilified as a Public Enemy to becoming one of the most recognizable and celebrated human beings on earth.
The eldest son of Odessa Clay and Marcellus Clay, Sr., Ali was born January 17, 1942 and raised in a lower middle class neighborhood in Louisville, Kentucky. Christened with the name Cassius Marcellus Clay, Jr (he and his father were both named for a 19th Century white abolitionist and important political figure in Kentucky); he was a natural athlete who played many sports, but at the age of twelve devoted himself to the sport of boxing, in which he particularly excelled. He quickly progressed and by his late teens he was a world class amateur boxer, demonstrating that fact by winning a Gold Medal at the 1960 Olympics.
After the opening with Susskind and a brief interlude with current Nation of Islam head Louis Farrakhan; the film picks up the story at this point. We see footage of Ali winning his medal, then announcing that he will turn pro and align himself with a consortium of backers from the Louisville business community.
Although it uses standard documentary “talking head” interviews to flesh out the narrative (particularly with Farrakhan, Ali’s brother Rahman, consortium head Gordon B Davidson, Nation Of Islam Minister Abdul Rahman Muhammad, and Ali’s ex-wife Khalilah Camacho-Ali) the real power of The Trials Of Muhammad Ali comes from the use of archival footage from several sources. It gives the film an immediacy and impact despite the fact that the events described happened over 40 years ago.
The first third of the film continues to interweave the story of Ali’s quest for the World Championship with a concurrent political and spiritual awakening that drew him to the teachings of the controversial and feared black separatist religious group The Nation Of Islam and a deep friendship with Malcolm X. His success and fame continued through the early 1960’s, as did his growing association with Malcolm and The NOI, culminating in his officially joining (and adopting the name Cassius X to replace the “slave name” of Clay) just as he was on the verge of winning his long sought championship.
There was immense pressure from all around him to renounce his affiliation with the Nation or at least to continue to keep it secret, especially on the eve of his title bout with the feared champion Sonny Liston, and he finally agreed not to speak of it publicly before the fight. He chafed against this restriction, however, and the day after he won the title he “came out” as a Nation Of Islam member when asked by a young sports reporter about the long-swirling rumors that he had joined the NOI. After that “it was on” and he never backed down from any questions about his religious beliefs or his feelings about racism and oppression in America.
Ali prays at the Hussein Mosque in Cairo in June 1964, four months after changing his name from Cassius Clay and announcing he is a member of the Nation of Islam. Note: Ali converted to mainstream Sunni Islam after the death of Elijah Muhammad in 1975. Photo Credit: Express/Archive Photos/Getty Images
Shortly afterwards, Nation Of Islam founder Elijah Muhammad decreed that now that Cassius was champion he was too big to carry the letter X and renamed him Muhammad Ali ( Muhammad meaning “Worthy of all Praises” and Ali meaning “Most High”). From then on he refused to allow himself to be called by any other name.
The mainstream American media refused to call him by this new name despite Ali’s insistence upon it, and a battle of wills began between them over the next several years. The white American public, already entranced and repelled by his brash outspoken manner, exploded in controversy over this development. A firestorm grew around him and he did nothing to alleviate it, speaking loudly and proudly about all subjects and rhetorically taking on all comers. In addition to his lightning rod status in the US, his religious conversion combined with his boxing championship and refusal to back down from white establishment pressure instantly made him a worldwide celebrity.
A strong, outspoken, and militant black man who was also a celebrity was the worst nightmare of the 1960’s power structure, and all forms of pressure were brought to bear on Ali, but he remained unbowed and defiant. In addition to his outspoken public persona and increasingly close relationship with the NOI (even after Malcom X’s bitter break with the Nation and his subsequent assassination), he also was taking an almost sadistic glee in beating the living crap out of a series of opponents who refused to call him Muhammad Ali (the origins of the popular shout-out “What’s my name?!?!?”).
Seeing that he was invulnerable to their pressures, the Establishment (to use a popular term of the era) sought another way to silence or co-opt him, and in early 1967, his draft status for Selective Service was mysteriously changed to 1-A, making him almost certain to be drafted into fighting in the escalating conflict in Vietnam. The Louisville Consortium made successful inquiries with various Reserve units to have him instead serve in the Kentucky National Guard or some other non-combat entity (this was decades before America’s National Guards were “kidnapped” for use in foreign conflicts as they are today). They envisioned him serving in much the way Joe Louis did in WW2, as a noncombat “ambassador” who did exhibition boxing matches to boost troop morale.
This is where the film really takes off. Ali is now faced with a choice between losing millions of dollars and facing jail time or at best becoming a stooge to the racist military industrial complex. Ali chose to stand up for his beliefs and faced the full wrath of the Armed Forces, the legal system, the media, and the American public (and his own parents, who were already furious about his conversion).
His bid for Conscientious Objector status was rejected and he was convicted by an all white jury and sentenced to five years in prison. Although freed on bail pending appeal, Ali was stripped of his title and essentially forbade from boxing the U.S. He also had his passport confiscated and was thus not allowed to fight in another country. Deprived of his livelihood, he went on the public speaking circuit, appearing at college campuses all over the country. At first he was stilted and dogmatic in these appearances, but he soon learned to be himself and became comfortable in his new role. As he became more articulate and entertaining, his message began to soak through and public opinion turned toward him, especially as the Vietnam conflict (and America’s racial conflicts) grew bloodier and “The Sixties” achieved full flower.
I won’t spoil the experience by continuing this synopsis. Watch the film for the rest of the story. There is also a recent dramatic film called Muhammad Ali’s Greatest Fight, which is a prototypical example of that particularly insidious kind of Hollywood film where the courageous struggle of a Black hero who bravely faces total ruin and/or violent death is subsumed by the story of a handful upper-class white folks who bravely do their jobs. end/snark
Muhammad Ali walks through the streets of New York City with members of the Black Panther Party in September 1970. Credit: David Fenton/Archive Photos/Getty Images
Here are a few thoughts about the film:
You can’t overstate how much was at stake for Ali and just how vilified he was at first. Mainstream public opinion was still firmly in favor of the war in 1967 (or at least not against it) and didn’t turn for several more years, in no small way because of Ali himself.
The sacrifice he made for his beliefs was gargantuan, costing him millions of dollars and putting him at risk for serious jail time. And it wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy being a popular public figure and having lots of money, nor was he unaware of what he was getting himself into. He fiercely spoke truth to power despite enormous consequences.
Ali’s bravery seems especially pointed in this era of media and sports celebrities afraid to speak to power when all it would cost them is a really good table in the hottest restaurants, or a seven-figure endorsement contract when they are already worth tens of millions. Ali’s sacrifice still serves as a blistering indictment of those who think wearing a ribbon is the same as taking a stand.
In addition to reviving public awareness of how vital Ali was in his prime and how he intimidating was to the White American Establishment, the film really evokes the feel of the sixties and just how intense and confrontational the era was in general. It was no cuddly hug fest- despite what the nostalgia mongers will have you believe.
David Crosby once said that “If you can remember the sixties, you weren’t really there.” While this was definitely true for the hedonistic rock and roll crowd, for the greater society as a whole I say “If you weren’t scared shitless during the sixties, you weren’t really there.” Beloved leaders were being assassinated, cities were going up in flames, soldiers were dying by the score in Vietnam, and students were getting their asses whupped at home for protesting that fact. It is a fear I remember well as a lad curled on the floor in front of the TV, watching the CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite tally body counts in Vietnam and describe the chaos in the US. The Wonder Years weren’t so wonderful to little kids worried about their older brother’s low draft number or seeing them getting tear-gassed in their dorm room. Bill Siegel’s brilliant use of archival footage powerfully evokes that feeling of uneasiness for everyone involved no matter who they were.
Young folks who have only known Ali as “that shaky guy who makes the grownups act very serious whenever he’s on TV” will be especially surprised by this, but even I was struck by it because he’s been so ill for so long: DAMN, HE WAS FUNNY! As scathing as Lenny Bruce and as quick on his feet as Robin Williams in their respective primes, Ali was hilarious even when denouncing racism or railing against the forces of ignorance. I really want to watch the full Firing Line episode where he tears William F. Buckley a new asshole after seeing a snippet of it in the film. In fact, I shall go see if I can find it online right now.
And you, Gentle Reader, must see The Trials Of Muhammad Ali as soon as you possibly can! It is screening at various locales around the country and will be shown on the PBS series Independent Lens on April 14, 2014. Click here to get it from I-Tunes.
Another public service this film does is bring this wonderful woman to the attention of the public! Bill Siegel and Khalilah Camacho-Ali. Photo credit: Aaron Wickenden.
Kartemquin Korner is a semi-regular segment spotlighting the work of Kartemquin Films, the greatest documentary collective in this part of the spiral arm of the galaxy. This week’s installment:
Typeface (2009)
This film is a delight! Art geeks, Graphic Design geeks, Print geeks, Media studies geeks, Documentary geeks, and History geeks will all find a metaphorical chicken to bite the head off of with this film.
Typeface was directed Justine Nagan, who has been Executive Director of Kartemquin Films since 2008. Under her leadership (in conjunction with the Board Of Directors) the Kartemquin collective has grown into an even more powerful artistic and cultural force as a series of bold strategic initiatives were conceived and actualized.
A genius watches a legend film an artist making art. Justine Nagan looks on as Gordon Quinn shoots a subject from Typeface.
She also handles Executive Producer duties on Typeface (as she does on every Kartemquin Film), sharing them with Kartemquin co-founder Gordon Quinn and documentary doyen Maria Finitzo. Starr Marcello is Associate Producer, Tom Bailey was the Director Of Photography, Liz Kaar edited the film, and Zak Piper did the sound.
Typeface explores The Hamilton Museum of Wood Type in the small Wisconsin town of Two Rivers. The museum serves many functions; as an exhibition of of the history of printing, as a repository for 1.5 million pieces of wood type, and as a gathering point for the many artists who now use those pieces to create mostly abstract works of graphic art. The museum also holds several workshops throughout the year with the most cutting edge letterpress artists holding court and sharing their techniques and tips.
The museum was originally opened in a part of the old Hamilton Factory.
The Hamilton Company, founded in 1880, quickly became the largest manufacturer of wood type for offset printing in the US; dominating the industry for decades and operating up until the mid-1980’s (not coincidentally when the first Macintosh computers were made available). Wood-based letterpress printing was the engine that drove American culture in general and the advertising industry in particular throughout the late 19th and most of the 20th Century until being supplanted by computer graphic design and offset lithography printing techniques.
The film provides a brilliant illustration of a point media studies guru Marshall noted in his ground breaking studies in the mid 20th Century- namely that when one type of media is eclipsed by a newer media, the old media then turns into an art form.
We see that here as a slew of graphic designers and artists are shown availing themselves of the museum; but especially in the case of Dennis Ichiyama, a Letterpress Artist and Purdue University Professor who makes regular pilgrimages to Two Rivers (with as many of his students as he can) to create works of art which utilize selected pieces of type from the museum’s collection of over 1.5 million wood type blocks. The segments where he holds forth on the zeitgeist of his art and the joys of the Hamilton Museum (and Two Rivers) are among the film’s most rewarding.
Some young graphic design artists get very enthused about the museum’s immense collection.
The film contains many lovely segments of practitioners of letterpress art in action; students and faculty of Columbia College’s Center For Book And Paper Arts, members of the Post Family Artist Collective, as well as Ishiyama and his students- combined with footage of them discussing their process and waxing rhapsodic about letterpress printing.
There is something extremely sensuous about the process of letterpress printing. Large dollops of thick ink are mixed to the desired color then slathered onto rollers; then the page is inserted, a lever is pulled, and the machine prints the text with a satisfying “ku-chunk.” Then, its surface now glistening with still-wet ink, the page is gently removed.
The sight of a letterpress machine such as this one may arouse you a bit after viewing this film.
Nowhere is the illustration of where industry meets art form more poignant than in the scenes where old employees of the Hamilton factory interact with the artists who now use their old workplace as a creative playground, particularly the segments featuring Norb Brylski a retired Hamilton employee in his 80’s who regularly volunteered his time at the museum filling orders and teaching his craft to the younger generation (before ill health forced him to cut back).
Norb’s segments are delightful in several respects; the skill he uses in his craft, the respect that the “youngsters” have toward him, his good natured yet slightly quizzical attitude towards the abstract and often bizarre works created by the artists. “When I was working at Hamilton I never had time to play around with that stuff” he says while going through some of the prints given to him by Ichiyama. As confused as he seems (“Don’t ask me what they are!” he remarks wryly) one can tell he enjoys and respects what these artists are up to.
It briefly looks as if things might be dire for the museum, but the film ends on a positive note with a new director, Jim Moran, taking the reigns (the previous director Greg Corrigan’s herculean struggles are chronicled throughout Typeface) and the Museum’s 10 Anniversary gala being a tremendous success. UPDATE: the Museum’s just moved to a much larger space, so a great and exciting transition period is afoot.
The museum has moved into this new facility, which has more space and a great view of Lake Michigan.
Almost all Kartemquin Films projects these days seem to be about something serious or dire (for good reason of course) so it is a rare joy to just let a Kartemquin constructed narrative wash over you and give yourself up to the storytelling skills of the some of the greatest practitioners of the documentary form (and Josh Ritter provides a very nice soundtrack).
Kartemquin Korner is a weekly-ish segment spotlighting a particular selection from Kartemquin Films, the finest documentary production company this side of the spiral arm of the galaxy. This week’s installment:
Who wouldn’t want to answer a question from these two smiling nuns? Not surprising that they both left the order within a few years of doing this film- neither one looks like they would enjoy tormenting a child!
Co-Directed by Kartemquin founders Gordon Quinn and Jerry Temaner, The Inquiring Nuns was one of the collective’s first projects. It features music by a very young Phillip Glass and was filmed on Kartemquin’s now legendary first camera. The Inquiring Nuns was inspired by a French film, Chronicle Of A Summer (1960), which itself inspired the cinema verite movement– which in turn led to reality television and the current glut of shows about worthless yet photogenic proto-humans (must take the bad with the good I guess).
The Inquiring Nuns features two young nuns (Sister Marie Arne and Sister Mary Campion) traveling around various circa 1968 Chicago locales (the Art Institute, the MSI, a supermarket, outside churches etc.) and asking people the same question posed by its French inspiration, “Are You Happy?”
This interview also provides an insight into the fact that one used to be able to get a steak in this town for $1.29!
The responses range from the glib to the profound and offer a fascinating glimpse into 1968 Chicago/USA and the human condition in general. At first the project seems like a lark, but becomes increasingly deep as more people open up to the pair of earnest inquisitors. It doesn’t hurt that the filmmakers found the most adorable nuns since Sally Field strapped on her flying habit to ask their question- a far cry from the stern, yardstick wielding Dogmafascists which terrorized me in my youth!
Some segments offer hilariously unintended insights into the folks being interviewed, like a couple who were obviously seeing each other on the sly (“Is this going to be shown anywhere?” they ask nervously). Others offer a glimpse more into the relationship dynamics of the couples or the internal lives of the individuals answering the question rather than the question itself.
One wonders what became of this young boy who emphasized one of his father’s qualifying remarks by forcefully intoning “I am happy TODAY!!!”
As one can imagine, the war in Vietnam was foremost on the minds of many interviewees, as well as the social strife of the era in general- but in many ways The Inquiring Nuns points out the cyclical nature of societal trends and how little people really seemed to have changed in the past 50ish years.
The Inquiring Nuns works both as a glimpse into the past and as an insight into certain permanent aspects of the human condition. It is definitely worth a look by contemporary audiences- and is also a project that needs to be repeated {this time with Buddhist nuns}!
Chicagoans say the darnedest things when asked open-ended philosophical questions by a pair of inquisitive sisters.
Christopher Borrelli of the Chicago Tribune did a marvelous piece about The Inquiring Nuns which features more of the history, back story, and subsequent influence the film had on society and culture (although it’s hidden behind a pay wall so you will have to register):
