Two unrelated documentaries caught Michael Dwyer'seye in Cannes
AMONG THE many interesting movies screening outside official competition at Cannes are two documentaries that would appear to have nothing in common. One is James Toback's Tyson, in which the former boxer reflects frankly on his turbulent life. The other is Of Time and the City, a personal essay by director Terence Davies on growing up in Liverpool, the 2008 European Capital of Culture. What links the two films is the use of old footage of men competing in the ring. That would be obvious in the case of Tyson, but in the Davies film, it is used to recall how he avidly attended Friday night wrestling tournaments in Liverpool, not for their "pantomimic villainy" but for "something more illicit", the erotic charge they gave Davies as a closeted gay teen.
Contrary to its title, the movie is more concerned with Davies than the city, and it celebrates the pleasures of his life in hard times, chiefly movies and musicals, as we know well from his outstanding films, principally Distant Voices, Still Lives, which marked him as one of Liverpool's most gifted cultural products.
Davies clearly invested hundreds of hours in poring over archive and newsreel footage - and no doubt enjoyed the process - to select the imagery he uses. He rails against the Catholic church, having switched from true believer to avowed atheist, and "the Betty Windsor show", as he disdainfully dismisses the royal family.
For all his love of music, he turns up his nose at Liverpool's most famous export, The Beatles, blaming them for ending the popular music era of the likes of Alma Cogan and Dickie Valentine. As if to flaunt his ignorance on the subject, the only 1960s pop song he features at any length is He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother, by the Hollies, who came from Manchester.
In an otherwise scrupulously researched film, Davies appears to have pondered every word he chose for his elegant script, which he delivers with passion, puns and dry wit, as he follows himself and his city from post-war poverty to the present.
Liverpool has fared much better than Davies in recent years, and, shamefully, this is the first project for which he has managed to raise financing since his underrated The House of Mirth eight years ago.
yyy Best known as a screenwriter (Bugsy) and a director of fictional films (Fingers), James Toback returns to documentary with , exploring a man he first met 23 years ago on the set of his movie The Pick-Up Artist, when one of the cast, Anthony Michael Hall, brought Mike Tyson to meet lead actor Robert Downey Jr. Tyson subsequently had a cameo in Toback's provocative Black and White.
Toback's documentary on Tyson features extensive use of archival material, including the TV interview in which the boxer's then wife, actress Robin Givens, stunned him when she described him as abusive, intimidating and a manic depressive. The film is most interesting in Tyson's own words as he candidly charts his troubled life and times from childhood poverty, being bullied at school and his boxing debut, to his many rises and falls, in and out of the ring, most notoriously when he was convicted of rape and jailed.
yyy The unofficial Cannes sidebar, the Directors' Fortnight, established as an alternative forum after the events of May 1968, turns 40 this year with a programme featuring a documentary on its history and new work mostly from rising talents.
Among them is Radu Muntean's Romanian drama , in which the eponymous character (Dragos Bucur) is in his late 20s, runs a furniture company and takes a seaside holiday with his pregnant wife and their young son. A chance encounter with two old friends leads to a messy long night's journey into day.
"Thanks for bringing me to the seaside to babysit," snaps Boogie's wife, when he is tempted to revisit the fun of his single days by spending a night on the town with his old mates. While Boogie is not an achievement to compare with 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, the Romanian film that won the Palme d'Or last year, its ambitions are more modest, and they are met with honesty and credibility in Muntean's closely observed picture, which is universal in its themes and explains Bucur's movie-star status in Romania.
Michael Dwyer's Cannes diary is in Weekend Review tomorrow
