doc/wise

By Tessa Moran

On an August morning over thirty years ago, Frenchman Phillippe Petit walked a tightrope illegally rigged between the two towers of the World Trade Center in New York City.  “Dancing” midair, some witnesses recalled.  No net lay below to catch him; no harness to prevent him from falling.  One mistep or gust of wind and Petit would lose his life. 

This is a true story, which Petit lived to recount in a 2002 book.  Yet it is James Marsh’s new documentary “Man on Wire” that gives this real-life heist the platform it deserves.  Though viewers know that Petit and his accomplices succeed in the end, Marsh never ceases to create suspense from start to finish.  Through the use of interviews and subtle recreations, Marsh transports the viewer to the scene of the “crime.” Every step is detailed, from making fake badges to enter the building, to hiding motionless as a night guard patrolled the premises.  Viewers feel complicit in the heist, yet happy in that feeling.  Afterall, it is a crime that causes pain to noone, notes one accomplice.  

He and the others talk little more about why they take part in such a risky endeavor.  For art, for the adventure of it?  Petit is perhaps more clear in his purpose, though his risk is indeed the greatest of all.  He scoffs at the media who posited “why, why, why?” as he was escorted to jail.  There is no why, he says. He simply revels in the beauty of it, “To die in the practice of your passion!” 

The sight of it is truly divine:  Petit’s black-clothed figure suspended mid-air against the blue sky and clouds above.  His then-girlfriend Annie remembers that day pointing into the air, gasping “look look, look” to passerbys.  Her recount is as heartfelt and passionate as if she were standing on that New York street thirty years ago.  It speaks volumes of Marsh’s talent as an interviewer; his ability to listen and to encourage the subjects to detail every sight and sound in first-person. 

Even so, it is clear these characters are natural storytellers themselves.  Petit, nothing less than enchanting.  Wide-eyed, he jumps around the room like a child, recounting the tension-filled elevator ride up to the top of the World Trade Center.  The camera lens spans his arms as they reach into the air, the light cast across his face.  Marsh anticipated the unconventional aspects of Petit’s active imagination and exuberant disposition, and he adapted to it beautifully.

Often what separates great documentaries from the rest is a certain level of taste, whether it is exercised directorially, cinematically or in the editing room.  Noteworthy is Marsh’s use of suggestive Errol Morris-style reenactments instead of the overly self-aware productions that clog other ”historical” documentaries.  Audiences barely see the faces of the actors, nor hear their voices.  Instead, we see cleanly produced black and white images of a van driving into a World Trade Center lot, or a policeman asleep at his post.  

Marsh’s distinct level of taste is particularly clear in his decision not to mention, or even allude to, the terror attacks of September 11, 2001.  Petit’s story is compelling enough to stand on its own, and would have been cheapened by drudging up that fateful day.   Instead, viewers see the towers as they were: so striking as to compel an individual to risk his life suspended between them.

By Tessa Moran

“The Real Iron Man,” one viewer called the documentary Bulletproof Salesman during a Q&A following the film’s screening at the Silverdocs Film Festival.  He was encouraging the filmmakers to take on the concept as a marketing avenue for the film.  Q&A at these events often turns into an unwelcomed platform for viewers to share their own life stories, conspiracy theories, and “brilliant” marketing ideas.  But the viewer’s comparison wasn’t half bad. 

After all, the film’s main-character Fidelis Cloer, a German armored-vehicle salesman, is a war-profiteer just like Tony Stark.  Only Cloer is selling protection, not weapons.  He’s also a womanizer, which we fail to see in the film but later learn during Q&A.  Still, this fact isn’t suprising from what character exploration we do see in the film. 

Perhaps it is the ease with which Cloer travels in highly dangerous areas of Baghdad when conducting business.   He is seemingly unaffected by the sight of burning buildings or the sound of gunfire; loads his automatic weapon in the car as if he were just buckling his seatbelt.  Even so, Cloer is anything but reckless.  Rather calculated in his entry into Iraq, just as could be expected from the never-fail heros played by Robert Downey Jr., Jason Statham or Bruce Willis.  He stays in hotels located nearest to military posts, and wears a Keffiyeh (traditional Middle Eastern male headdress) as disguise.   He rarely travels in “soft-skin” cars, ever-confident in the armored protection of his vehicles. 

Filmmakers Petra Epperlein and Michael Tucker are extremely successful in visually developing Cloer’s character - smooth, calculated and confident.  In one scene, Cloer methodically clips his fingernails as he explains that looking sharp is essential to gaining trust from clients.  In another scene, he sits in an armored car as a client shoots rounds of bullets at it.  A good salesman must always believe in his product, he says.

These scenes set the stage for some level of action from Cloer, and yet the film fails to fully deliver on our expectations.  It comes close during one scene in which Cloer and his colleagues notice they are being followed on the highway by a couple of suspicious-looking vehicles.  We see the cars nearing in the rear-view mirror… Cloer loads his gun… the suspense builds… and then it is uttlerly squashed by the most irritating screen text telling us exactly what we are seeing. 

This wasn’t the only instance of the VH1-like pop-ups, which appeared frequently throughout the film, particularly in the beginning. Coupled with punchy music, the pop-ups set the tone for more of a music video or cheesy reality show than a cinema verite documentary.  Thankfully, the text pop-ups petered out towards the end of the film. 

Despite the distraction, the filmmakers were able to tell an unnerving, yet compelling story about the business of war.  As the story unveils, viewers are conflicted over how to define Cloer.  Is he the action hero we want to root for, or the villain war-profiteer we despise?  Though Cloer admits flatly that war is “good for business”, in doing that business, he is also saving lives.  Can the ends justify the means?  The film’s greatest success is in exposing this duality without seeking to answer it.