The event? It's there, for everyone to read about it. It occurred, of course. You can 'Google' it and now there's also Wikipedia. Let me say that I find it amazing that James Marsh took the time to reunite the protagonists of the event, interviewing then with the objective of getting the most amount of detail possible. Also, when finishing this raw material, I admire his intelligence in the editing room that makes such an easy telling event so much more.
Don't get me wrong; I'm not suggesting it was easy to put a wire between the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center and walk through it as if nothing during 45 minutes, no. I'm merely suggesting that it's easy to tell what happened: I mean, you can read it in the previous sentence. With the director's editing work, this very short sentence becomes a movie. The process comes to light; the characters recall their feelings and their admiration towards Philippe Petit; a love story surfaces; a friendship story surfaces; a rivalry surfaces. The video and photographic material seems infinite, and most of the movie is, naturally, carefully measured edition because the original footage shot by Marsh involves this somehow fictional recreation of the night and day in which everything happened. The rest? Videos and photographs, taken and shot by the real Petit and his, well His crew.
I should complain about the use of music, sometimes too repetitive, at times too obvious. The way these people tell the story is so natural and pure they seem hired storytellers, almost reading a memorized acted script. I suppose this could be possible, and even though I assume is not, there's no need to accompany the talking with the "appropriate" music and/or sound At least not all the time. Some moments (a few ones, with Petit talking, non-stop) in which the screen is –in this aspect- invaded by complete silence, are among the best parts of the film.
And I'm not so disappointed by the musical use because I can see there's true emotion in the movie's center, and with or without music, stretching for it or not, this stands out. What could have been avoided though is the illogical use of photographs and video material to justify or illustrate specific moments of the tale. We found repeated images because of this and it makes you think the filmmaker may not have complete confidence in the effect of pure, heartfelt spoken words.
Because there is a chance that Marsh may have missed the true heart of his documentary, right there in the middle of all the incredible human experience that's presented to us. There you have Phillipe Petit, an artist. A person who was taken to psychiatrists that insistently required an explanation for the things he had done. A crazy little man with a soul so innocent and pure; someone who believes in the beauty of a little moment. It's amazing just to look at him, so convinced that he can make the world better by risking his own life.
All of this, I don't know. I just assume. Part of some documentaries that are fascinated with a persona has to do with transmitting this fascination to the viewer. I said it all over: I'm not quite sure how amazed by Petit the director truly is. It doesn't matter because the artist's presence is so strong that it becomes inevitable to try and see inside him, through his art. Sometimes this is the only way possible, especially with artists. They don't choose to do what they do, they just know they have do it; and watching them doing, and listening to them speaking about themselves doing it is all anyone should need.
I don't need to read Phillipe Petit's biography any more than I ever needed to read Damien Rice's, or Fito Páez's, or Sofia Coppola's or Woody Allen's (to put some cinematographic examples). It's all there: in the songs, in the movies, in their art. Phillipe Petit, a man who sees a picture of two gigantic Towers being built and knows they're building them for him, is the living proof –one of many, surely- of this fact that I believe a lot of people take for granted. We pretend we know about it, we assume we understand, and yet we keep watching and listening and we keep asking: "Why? Why?".
Shut up. There is no "why".
Don't get me wrong; I'm not suggesting it was easy to put a wire between the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center and walk through it as if nothing during 45 minutes, no. I'm merely suggesting that it's easy to tell what happened: I mean, you can read it in the previous sentence. With the director's editing work, this very short sentence becomes a movie. The process comes to light; the characters recall their feelings and their admiration towards Philippe Petit; a love story surfaces; a friendship story surfaces; a rivalry surfaces. The video and photographic material seems infinite, and most of the movie is, naturally, carefully measured edition because the original footage shot by Marsh involves this somehow fictional recreation of the night and day in which everything happened. The rest? Videos and photographs, taken and shot by the real Petit and his, well His crew.
I should complain about the use of music, sometimes too repetitive, at times too obvious. The way these people tell the story is so natural and pure they seem hired storytellers, almost reading a memorized acted script. I suppose this could be possible, and even though I assume is not, there's no need to accompany the talking with the "appropriate" music and/or sound At least not all the time. Some moments (a few ones, with Petit talking, non-stop) in which the screen is –in this aspect- invaded by complete silence, are among the best parts of the film.
And I'm not so disappointed by the musical use because I can see there's true emotion in the movie's center, and with or without music, stretching for it or not, this stands out. What could have been avoided though is the illogical use of photographs and video material to justify or illustrate specific moments of the tale. We found repeated images because of this and it makes you think the filmmaker may not have complete confidence in the effect of pure, heartfelt spoken words.
Because there is a chance that Marsh may have missed the true heart of his documentary, right there in the middle of all the incredible human experience that's presented to us. There you have Phillipe Petit, an artist. A person who was taken to psychiatrists that insistently required an explanation for the things he had done. A crazy little man with a soul so innocent and pure; someone who believes in the beauty of a little moment. It's amazing just to look at him, so convinced that he can make the world better by risking his own life.
All of this, I don't know. I just assume. Part of some documentaries that are fascinated with a persona has to do with transmitting this fascination to the viewer. I said it all over: I'm not quite sure how amazed by Petit the director truly is. It doesn't matter because the artist's presence is so strong that it becomes inevitable to try and see inside him, through his art. Sometimes this is the only way possible, especially with artists. They don't choose to do what they do, they just know they have do it; and watching them doing, and listening to them speaking about themselves doing it is all anyone should need.
I don't need to read Phillipe Petit's biography any more than I ever needed to read Damien Rice's, or Fito Páez's, or Sofia Coppola's or Woody Allen's (to put some cinematographic examples). It's all there: in the songs, in the movies, in their art. Phillipe Petit, a man who sees a picture of two gigantic Towers being built and knows they're building them for him, is the living proof –one of many, surely- of this fact that I believe a lot of people take for granted. We pretend we know about it, we assume we understand, and yet we keep watching and listening and we keep asking: "Why? Why?".
Shut up. There is no "why".