Raise Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins is a ninety-three minute documentary about the titular writer’s life. I’m uncertain whether or not I knew who she was before my trip to the theater, but I’ll never forget her now. I was eager to hear about another badass woman and left surprised to discover a kindred spirit.
Raise Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins isn’t a perfect documentary. In order to play to the humorous side of her life and keep things light, it gives in to zany film transitions, but they mainly function as bookends and seem better suited to a documentary made by a television network. I applaud the film’s efforts to show how Ivins is still relevant to today’s political discourse and can act as a call to action for all people, but I do wonder if devoting so much time to George W. Bush makes it feel dated. (If the amount of time devoted to him is a proportionate to the amount of time that she actually devoted to him when you look at her entire career, then I take it back and apologize to all Ivins experts.) I understand that the film is making a connection with Dubya as a kind of John the Baptist to Presidon’t’s Messianic ambitions, but I’m not sure if it would be clear enough to present and future viewers that they are referencing a specific person.
While I also agree with the premise that what happens in Texas is a microcosm of the United States, Raise Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins needed to show its work instead of just making that assumption because Dubya is only one example. Another example would be textbooks used in Texas public schools end up being distributed nationally, but maybe Ivins didn’t write about the widespread phenomenon. I’m an Ivins acolyte, and I understand that as a trenchant observer of Texas, she was able to turn that perspicacious eye to the nation. Her comments are still applicable today, but by approaching the subject by emphasizing the thesis that Texas is a “national laboratory for bad government” without fully fleshing it out instead of taking the reverse position, which would be showing how Ivins’ observations apply to the nation and elaborating how Texas transmitted a way of thinking into the political atmosphere, not just one man, it missed an opportunity to be more than a preach to the choir documentary. The filmmaker just assumes that we’ll get it, and I did, but I can see a contrary viewer simply listing all the conservative presidents who weren’t from Texas or all the progressive presidents who did.
It is too bad that the filmmaker never saw Janis: Little Girl Blue because that documentary makes a similar point as Raise Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins about women in Texas. If a woman does not fit a certain image of femininity, i.e. “Southern womanhood,” then a white woman can be exiled and become an outsider, which then makes her more sympathetic to more liberal views because she was already kicked out of the mainstream by simply existing. I’m not a white woman, but as an outside observer, it appears that another side effect of this exile leads to self-medicating against psychological pain, which in Ivins case was alcohol. Even while objectively knowing that the majority is wrong, Americans in general, and Ivins and Joplin specifically turn on themselves instead of keeping that aggression turned towards the system.
Raise Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins could have easily stolen the title and premise from Maria By Callas because the majority of the documentary is archival footage from Ivins’ various television appearances. Ivins was a natural comedian and wordsmith whose joie de vivre and living out loud approach to life is infectious and easily conveyed regardless of the era that she was occupying. Nothing gets lost whether it is a moving image or a still photograph. The film effectively conveys how this woman grew into all six feet of herself.
I almost didn’t need to hear anyone else talk about her, but Raise Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins did a great job when it chose to not include talking heads who would only talk analytically about her. Instead we get people, some more famous than others, who knew and loved her eagerly sharing stories about their friend and colleague. A lot of these people are women, and I wouldn’t be surprised that if I knew more about them, they may deserve their own documentary; however this film stays focused on its subject and their stories do not distract the viewer from the central figure. I have no idea whether it was unintentional, but I got the vibe that some interviewees in Toni Morrison: Pieces of Me were simply using the opportunity to discuss Morrison as an opportunity to raise their platform whereas these commentators were eager to put the spotlight on their friend.
Unfortunately Raise Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins would get so wrapped up in Ivins’ charm and appeal, that the stories would be incomplete. For example, her father found a black man in his house. Who was the black man? What was his relationship to Ivins? Did they try to interview him to get him to share more details of the story? The story is offered as proof of Ivins’ liberal credentials during a time of segregation, but was it also a sign of self-indulgent rebellion without consideration for the well-being of this person unless he entered her home fully expecting her father’s outrage? I don’t know, and the documentary does not even think about that other interpretation as a possibility.
I really related to Ivins the bookworm, the loud laugher, the fast walker, the unloveable, the uncontrollable, the woman not in touch with her emotions, the person who holds corrupt individuals up for ridicule and contempt, the outsider. If she was a cat person, I would wonder if we were related. When she is completely crestfallen with disappointment over Bill Clinton, a personal friend of Ivins, I cosigned her although I’ve since let go of my anger and just dismiss him as a man more deserving of my pity and a therapist than my outrage. If it wasn’t for my sudden shopping spree, dressing poorly could have been another overlap in our Venn diagram.
Ivins is another modern day Amazonian to add to my pantheon, which makes Raise Hell: The Life and Times of Molly Ivins worth watching for any women looking for more founding mothers and pioneering women that history seems determined to forget. What it lacks in delivery and visual style, it more than makes up for in substance. Ivins’ greatness did not stop her from being humble and gracious. She could dish it out, and she could take it. If you’re a high-profile woman wondering how to withstand the unacceptable onslaught of online harassment, I’ve found your patron saint. I may have to check out Ivins’ books to get a steady stream of inspiration.
