We Live In Public

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Tuesday, March 2, 2010

DVD Review: WE LIVE IN PUBLIC

THE FLICK
Today, technology is all around us, from manual U-Scan check out lanes at the supermarket to the marvels of Instant Messaging on the computer, enabling someone in New York to talk in real time to a friend in India. These seemingly mundane things are ingrained as a part of our lives now, but they weren't always around. We Live in Public, a documentary by director Ondi Timoner, looks at one of the pioneers of the online experience, Joshua Harris, tracing his prophetic insights into where society was heading to different social experiments akin to Big Brother and the first internet television station. And all of this started back in 1984, before computers were prevalent in every home, let alone before texts, e-mail and IM came into the popular lexicon.

Timoner uses Harris as both the narrative device as well as the plot device in the film. Every aspect of the way the online culture has come to affect our present lives is reflected in a project or business venture Harris set up: watching niche videos online, for instance, was part of his Pseudo internet television project. Delivering any number of topic-specific internet talk shows with commentators and anchors was a precusor to the streaming video, podcasts and niche websites we have today. Among other channels, Timoner shows Cherry Bomb, a show which could be considered the ancestor of Savage Love, a sex advice newspaper column and podcast. This project was met with technical limitations. At the time, broadband was a pipe dream and the video was delivered, as some interviewees mention comically, at a rate of one frame per second. Still, though, it's the idea at the center of it all Timoner hits several times, both fast and hard.

There's no doubt Harris is a visionary, foretelling the way humans would give up their privacy for 15 minutes of fame per day, not in their entire lives, as Andy Warhol opined. Think of the way we upload our lives to Facebook or blogs, complete with pictures, videos, stories...basically anything about us. The thesis of the picture is that the proliferation of the internet has allowed everyone to be well-known, thereby leading to the population ceding their privacy to corporations and other entities. The reality series Big Brother launched in the Netherlands in 1999. At the same time, Harris put together his own version: a six-story bunker in New York City where a variety of people would live with the cameras turned on them 24/7. In essence, it's a social experiment. The participants often mentioned a feeling of being detached from themselves as a result of the cameras or feeling more alone than they should, given the situation and number of people around. These people, as evidenced by video footage, have no qualms with going to the bathroom, taking a shower or having sex for everyone to see. Why? Because the camera makes them a celebrity, even for a little while.

The overall story is of how Harris rose and fell so spectacularly in a relatively short amount of time. Through that story, Timoner is able to chronicle how "moving pictures in a box" consume out lives. (My words, not hers.) Where Harris was essentially raised by the television-Gilligan's Island in particular-current society is being raised by the internet. We connect to one another by typing or sending Tweets or posting a video online. As Harris and girlfriend Tanya found out when they equipped a loft with camera to broadcast their every move online, living with an audience constantly watching isn't conducive to long-term mental health. In the second half of the film, footage of their time together illustrates the point. Instead of talking to one another, they rush to their computers to see what their viewers are saying and reacting. It's analogous to not being content to share a historic moment with the people physically around you. It's the texting, Tweeting, updating, blogging culture, designed to see what everyone is thinking at all times.

For all the insights and fascinating looks into the early online world, Timoner takes a side trip to talk about the events which made Harris the man he is. In particular, the way he was ostracized by his brothers and sisters-the youngest of seven children-and almost shunned by his mother. Two brothers rail against Harris being isolated from everyone else, calling him names like The Nutty Professor. Harris gets the chance to tell his side of the story, but not immediately. Instead, the film takes a bizarre turn, opting not to follow the story chronologically, but in little pieces. It finally comes out, in the end, Harris may be right about his mother whereas his brothers aren't: they all concede she was burnt out with kids by the time Josh came along and she couldn't handle anything bad, only the good. Harris also claims she drank several martinis every night, plopping him in front of the television. Is this backstory necessary? Yes, in the long run. But the entirety of it needed to go together, in one lump sum and not spread out across the entire picture. That's really the worst thing anyone will be able to say about We Live in Public, in the end. It's that fascinating of a documentary, showing events we all lived through but never knew happened.

(The fact it is said he always wanted to control other people's lives, treating them like rats in a maze, is never explained. Surely the audience can see how that manifested itself as he grew up; how did it work when he was a child, though? We Live in Public doesn't go there.)

Several times through the picture, Harris is called a genius by people in the industry and his friends. He certainly has the resume to qualify for those titles, yet he also qualifies for the egomaniac label. Too many people have been in his ear for too long telling him he can do no wrong, that he can be the puppet master and no one will tell him no. Throughout the film, Harris rewrites his own history, calling Tanya a fake girlfriend. Even in the commentary track, he tries to refute much of what is shown and said about him. Early on, as 60 Minutes is at the Pseudo studios, he tells a correspondent he's going to put CBS out of business. There's no humor in his voice, no sense he's making a joke. He's dead serious about that. And when he leaves the channel, he calls it an art project and not a business, perhaps as a way to shelter his ego from admitting defeat. Simultaneously, this man is both an engrossingly captivating subject and a pitiful person.

THE LOOK
We Live in Public is presented is 1.33:1 format, owing to the fact a majority of the film is comprised of older, non 16:9 video. Surprisingly, the transfer is remarkably sound, for the most part. Some footage is a bit hazy and soft, particularly in the news pieces from the 1980s. The situation gets better proportionately with the age of the source material. Blacks throughout pose little problem with no obvious pixelation or blocking; the film doesn't have a stand out color palette, but what is presented on screen looks just fine.

THE SOUND
The English 2.0 audio track acquits itself nicely without an issue. Dialogue is always clean, free of distortion and well balanced with the soundtrack. Ambient sounds are accounted for, providing a sense of a complete environment for the story to unfold in. Even the older footage comes across without complaint. A full 5.1 mix isn't necessary for the subject matter and director Ondi Timoner wisely doesn't feel the need to separate the existing audio to fill out the rest of the speakers. The only issue with the audio portion of the disc is a lack of subtitles.

THE STUFF
We Live in Public comes packed in a black keepcase with no insert. The film is broken down into 15 chapters accessible from the main menu. Both Timoner and Harris provide separate commentary tracks. Expectedly, the director delves into the production side of the film with mentions of why some footage is in low resolution, a stand-off between herself and Harris over equipment and missing pieces of the family narrative (Josh's father was involved with the CIA and he spent four years with his grandmother at a young age, prompting him to not bond with his mother). Harris is full of bluster and ego, almost constantly defending himself, calling out everyone in the film for a perceived slight and rewriting his own personal history. Among other things, he calls Tanya a fake girlfriend several times and calling the Pseudo web channel an art project instead of something important and relevant to his life.

"Making of: with Ondi Timoner" (10:29) covers many of bases the film gets to: New York City was a haven for hedonism and money was available for whatever a person wanted; 5,000 or more hours of footage had to be edited into the final film and the theory of making life matter rests is ceding privacy so anyone can see you at any time. Two deleted sequences-"Inside the Bunker: The Guns" (3:54) and "Inside the Bunker: Pods" (2:58)-had most of their information repurposed into other parts of the finished product, giving good reason for them to be excised.

A brief video snippet (5:02) of Harris recording his commentary track is provided along with an 11:25 featurette detailing the film at the 2009 Sundance Film Festival. Nothing revolutionary, but it's a nice slice of life segment showcasing what goes into getting a film like this promotion. The disc is rounded out with DVD Credits, this film's trailer (2:33) and trailers for other Indiepix productions (In a Dream, All My Friends are Funeral Singers, Sita Sings the Blues, Copyright Criminals and Icons Among Us).