Can Cunningham possibly be the best documentary of the year? The best film? It is entirely too early to make such a claim, but I left the theater utterly and incomprehensibly moved. After the film was over, the director, Alla Kovgan, spoke, and I immediately realized that the documentary was even better than I originally thought.
Let me set the context of my viewing experience. It was on a Friday night after a long stressful, unrewarding day. I do not go out on Friday nights because I am tired and more likely to fall asleep, especially without a nap. I did not get to finish my dinner. I was in pain. Even though I got to the theater early, it was not early enough to get the seat that I wanted. I actually do not enjoy 3D films because I find it distracting from the overall film experience, but relented because the director was only speaking at the 3D showings. I should have hated this film and fallen asleep.
Cunningham, the documentary, is similar to the titular dancer: simultaneously abstract but linear. If you are looking for a traditional documentary, do not. If you think that you are capable of being a blank slate and just experiencing something without any preconceptions of what you are about to see, you will be rewarded with an experience that will take you outside of yourself and relating to the man, his work, his circle of people and his environment in innovative, empathetic and emotionally resonant ways that are entirely subjective and difficult to convey in terms other than visual.
Far superior to, but reminiscent of Maria By Callas, the documentary entirely consists of the various ways that Cunningham or those whom he trusted to communicate his ideas such as musical or visual collaborators and dancers, chose to express themselves through dance, words, drawings, paintings or photographs. There are no experts or talking heads opining about the events of the past. The ownership of the film feels completely in the hands of those whom it is about. Kovgan’s inspirations were Russian Ark and Pina, but as a fan of both movies, I think Cunningham may be better.
Kovgan uses a lot of archival footage thanks to David Vaughn, the Cunningham’s company’s archivist to whom Kovgan dedicates the film. Even the way that Kovgan used 3D film to frame the archived work is unique. It reminded me of Love, Cecil except it took it to the next level by allowing some footage to be in the forefront, mixing media in one frame-film, drawing and still photographs. The screen was always divided in unique ways with each subsequent shot. It reflects the richness of Cunningham’s artistic work and how it reaches every corner. Various studies claim that viewers’ gaze is usually static during an entire movie-you are not actually looking at the entire screen, but one point. The constant shift of movement and ever-changing framing hopefully encourages a dynamic viewing experience that kicks us out of our visual torpor.
Kovgan, in collaboration with Jennifer Goggans and Robert Swinston, two choreographers, spent seven months looking at eighty of Cunningham’s works then picked fourteen to stage in various locations either to remain faithful to the way that the dance was originally set or entirely different locations to cinematically remain devout to the original idea behind the work and discover the best way to depict Cunningham’s foundational concept. Dances are set in the forest, on roofs, in city squares, inside buildings, public spaces like airports. These dances are interspersed throughout the film. Because the majority of the archival footage is in black and white, these splashes of color remind us of how vibrant Cunningham’s world was instead of evoking a sepia-toned, idealized image of a past that never existed.
Cunningham, the documentary, embodies the dancer’s ethos, and the screen becomes a timeless, transcendent communion of the saints between the past and the present and of course the future when new viewers see this film long after the dancers, filmmakers, collaborators, choreographers and original viewers have passed. Thankfully Kovgan is also wise, and her combination of archival footage and performances are set in chronological order to cover his work from 1942 to 1972, which is roughly the time when the original dancers in his company left so while Cunningham may not adhere to a narrative, Kovgan gives her film enough structure to feel like a satisfying journey through the life of an artist using what was externally accessible. There is no armchair psychology, dishy gossip while acknowledging the fact of certain relationships, friendships and artistic mentorship.
While I enjoy dance and am familiar with Cunningham, I would not consider myself knowledgeable in that area. People gossiped in the lavatory that the documentary inflated his importance in the dance world. I would respectfully disagree. The documentary simply portrays him. It hits high points and low points, but no definitive declarative statements are made about the quality of his work. If his work leaves you cold, you should probably run in the opposite direction, but if you enjoy his work or dance generally, I would consider it must see viewing in the theater. I did leave impressed with the way that Cunningham thought that he related to people as individuals, not interchangeable tools. His approach to art was temporal.
I cannot imagine seeing Cunningham anywhere but on the big screen and ideally in 3D. A smaller screen with the power to pause and heavy with the potential for interruptions would just eradicate the possibility of a fully immersive and moving experience. I am biased but I was born in New York, and every time that I see the Manhattan skyline, I am just transported to a place of awe. Even though the majority of the film was not shot in Manhattan, it has that cosmopolitan, metropolis feel that just hits my heart with its glorious beauty. Kovgan even revealed that she used CGI to combine Cologne and Manhattan in one perfectly timed shot during the Winterbranch sequence.
Kovgan spent seven years getting Cunningham made, but it was only shot in eighteen days. She used ninety percent of the footage that was shot. She faced unimaginable challenges with cameramen who are not dancers, did not have musical cues and had to navigate space with dancers whose bodies were limited to how much they could physically offer so their work could get captured on film. Kovgan hopes that people will see the film in theaters to “convince the world that it is worth making.” The richness of mortality and the eternal meeting on screen gave me the equivalent of witnessing a resurrection. Worth making? Ha! Cunningham is the only reason that film was invented. Kovgan is an audacious first-time director who deserves your support. This movie will not stay in theaters for more than a week if you do not see it during opening weekend, and if you want to hear her talk, you need to go to the Saturday, January 4, 2020 3:30 pm showing at Kendall Theater. Please see this film in theaters if you are interested in it. Do not cheat yourself by waiting to see it at home.