America's Heart And Soul Review
by Harvey S. Karten (harveycritic AT cs DOT com)July 1st, 2004
AMERICA'S HEART AND SOUL
Reviewed by Harvey S. Karten
Walt Disney Pictures
Grade: B
Directed by: Louis Schwartzberg
Screened at: Review 2, NYC, 6/30/04
In a broad sense, every nonfiction film is political. In each case, the director and writer have a point of view. The point may be partisan ("Fahrenheit 9/11," "The Hunting of the President"), it may be fair and balanced ("Sound and Fury"), it may want to make alive to the forces of nature ("Winged Migration"). Louis Schwartzberg's "America's Heart and Soul" reflects the last point in that the director wants us to appreciate the wonders and diversity of life in the U.S., and it is also partisan, in that we'd probably love to show the pic to the people in Iraq, Iran, North Korea (and France) who oppose not only the policies of the current administration but the allegedly irreligious and selfish souls of our residents.
According to Schwartzberg, America's heart and soul are found not only in areas where we find people who never heard of Citarella and are indifferent to Woody Allen, but to cityscapes and suburbs as well. So many individuals are each given their five minutes of fame that while the director can be accused of superficiality–an "America 101" zeitgeist–the choice is necessary if we're not about to sit through a six-hour work on the level of Marco Tullio Giordana's epic film that covers the history of Italy over a thirty-four year period, "The Best of Youth."
While a film of this patriotic nature lacks the irony of a Michael Moore, Schwartzberg loads his camera with quite a bit of humor. Sometimes the characters themselves make us grin or laugh with them because they are so idiosyncratic. Ben Cohen of Ben and Jerry's, whose home is in Williston, Vermont, is perhaps the only guy well-known throughout our land as a partner in Ben and Jerry's ice cream company. With his hirsute face absorbing some of his delicious product, he extols the wonders of his desert without blatantly come across as a businessman who is utilizing this film as a product placement. In the spirit of "Winged Victory," we are privy to the daring feats of blind mountain climber, Erik Weihenmayer or Ouray, Colorado, one of the few people who have ever ascended to the heights of each continent's tallest peaks. In this case he's on top of the world, Mt. Everest, oxygen mask and buddies and all.
A dairy farmer, George Woodard of Waterbury, Vermont, works seven days a week but is happy to report that because of his hours he does not dread Sunday night's foreshadowing of a blue Monday. Not so happy are the steelworkers of Weirton, West Virginia, who bought out their company and are trying desperately to compete against foreigners who product the product at twenty-five cents an hour.
Mosie Burks of Jackson, Mississippi struts her stuff as the leader of a gospel choir; Ed Holt of Santa Maria, California, demonstrates the power of the grape; Patty Wagstaff of St. Augustine, Florida, takes us on one of her daring stunt flights, turning upside down and inside out as frequently as we tap keys on our computers while the equally daring champion bike messenger, John "Yac" Yacobellis of New York City, weaves his way swiftly through trucks and cars that are are spaced apart with all the distance of the eye of a needle.
The film is the product of a man who has spent thirty-five years traveling across country, a modern John-Steinbeck- "Travels-With-Charlie" fellow who, unaccompanied by Steinbeck's poodle nonetheless has collected scenes from cities and the countryside. He records the feats of people doing steady, meticulous work like rug weaver Minny Yancy of Berea, Kentucky; making music like exciting klezmer clarinetist David Krakauer, who performs in New York's Eldridge Street synagogue, the oldest in the country; and the fast-breaking, dizzily-paced Vasqeuz Brothers doing Salsa in L.A.
If one must say something negative about this travelogue it's that eighty-eight minutes is too short a time to develop any of its characters well. What's needed is a sequel "America 102" if you will. Also if Schwartzberg is still looking for idiosyncratic, even downright psycho characters, I could recommend quite a few film critics.
Rated PG. 88 minutes. © 2004 by Harvey Karten
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