Marc Singer's Dark Days details the 'life-styles' of several people who live (or rather used to live) in self-made homes next to and under the subway tracks in Manhattan. Singer, who used to live homeless, seems to have no qualms about just showing up front all of the grime and sludge and garbage and rats and, of course, darkness that these people dwell in. And it's so simple and precise, for the bulk of it, that one's glad it doesn't go any other way. For Singer it's something of luck- though more-so for those who lived underground- that they finally were put into housing by the end, because it provides just a bit more than what he already had. For the first hour, however, it's completely revelatory in his approach: it's just these guys up on the screen, in the kind of black and white cinematography that's as bare-bones as Clerks.
In a look at the homeless there could be the tendency to become schmaltzy or too preachy. Singer allows for room in his film where these people talk to one another, conversations that wouldn't be seen in a more conventional journalism-type piece. And when Singer gets interviews and confessions, they're genuinely moving: we hear how some of these guys got to this point, where their children died or they lost everything and it's not exactly by choice they're at where they're at now. On the other hand, there's also the 'perks' of living in underground squalor, where the problems for homeless living above ground are greater than those who live below, with (surprisingly) electricity and ovens. There's actually a legitimate argument (though legitimate depending on what you think of rats and crack-heads) for living this way if you're homeless.
The approach is with the superlative 'direct-cinema' quality that comes with the likes of Maysles movies, but Singer's style is also adept at getting noirish imagery. And the music selections by DJ Shadow is spot-on for the imagery (save for the last few minutes, where Singer slightly missteps in putting music over dialog when in previous scenes there was none). It's a movie that forces one to think about the nature of the lower class, where they aren't always as such; a personal view of race, class, drug-use, and living for the city, without any pretensions about itself. It's some of the most compelling documentary film-making I've seen this decade. 9.5/10
In a look at the homeless there could be the tendency to become schmaltzy or too preachy. Singer allows for room in his film where these people talk to one another, conversations that wouldn't be seen in a more conventional journalism-type piece. And when Singer gets interviews and confessions, they're genuinely moving: we hear how some of these guys got to this point, where their children died or they lost everything and it's not exactly by choice they're at where they're at now. On the other hand, there's also the 'perks' of living in underground squalor, where the problems for homeless living above ground are greater than those who live below, with (surprisingly) electricity and ovens. There's actually a legitimate argument (though legitimate depending on what you think of rats and crack-heads) for living this way if you're homeless.
The approach is with the superlative 'direct-cinema' quality that comes with the likes of Maysles movies, but Singer's style is also adept at getting noirish imagery. And the music selections by DJ Shadow is spot-on for the imagery (save for the last few minutes, where Singer slightly missteps in putting music over dialog when in previous scenes there was none). It's a movie that forces one to think about the nature of the lower class, where they aren't always as such; a personal view of race, class, drug-use, and living for the city, without any pretensions about itself. It's some of the most compelling documentary film-making I've seen this decade. 9.5/10