Now, much
of Mr. Glass’s manifesto deals with telling documentary stories using the radio
as the primary medium and how to construct a story. This is necessary and
pertinent because that was the main discussion the last time I was with the
students. Stories and narratives are very important because stories are a way
to relate information to an audience. As a believing, active, Mormon, I have
read the Bible, and I remember in the New Testament there was a fellow from
Nazareth that happened to be apt at telling a parable or two. And these stories
weren’t just yarns told for amusement, there was a weight, a stance, and a truth
melded into the narrative. So it can be easy to trace why I think that a
narrative might be especially useful to address pertinent issues and to express
opinions without drawing unduly earned ire. However, reading Ira Glass’s
manifesto and my experiences with the students has run into some difficulty,
not only with each other, but in my own philosophies concerning story and
documentary.
One of the
things that I read in Ira Glass’s manifesto that troubled me was how he defined
story, or rather, what a story is not. There isn’t any kind of malicious intent
behind this, but I felt that Glass treated his version of documentary like a
script. As a documentarian and screenwriter I recognized many of the terms
Glass used in discussing how stories are chosen for This American Life; things like raising the stakes and major
dramatic question. I know these are valid points and these points are very well thought
out/presented. However, these same points didn’t match up with my interpretation of
documentary at all. Yes, I agree that story does make something interesting and
there are implicit messages within stories. But can’t something be appreciated
without an intermediary attempting to streamline and polish the subject?
I utilized
a couple of texts, both filmic and literary, as I considered the difference between Mr. Glass and myself. First, I
think of Fred Wiseman’s La Danse, a
documentary film that follows the Paris Opera Ballet through the production of
7 ballets in a season. The film has no narrative arc, it observes almost the
entire company from top to bottom. There are characters, but not ones which we
explore. But at the same time this is compelling and interesting cinema, there
is no need for a narrative arc or a raising of the stakes to act as a
mouthpiece for what the film is about; the Paris Opera Ballet. This isn’t the
only example of a documentary being about more than a story.
A second
text that comes to mind when considering the idea that stories are needed to
drive documentaries is Mark Twain’s The
Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County. This is a literary example in
which there is a narrative arc, but the arc is of so little consequence that it
is essentially non-existent. It could be argued that this is a fictional
example of an unfocused narrative, but I prefer to think of it as a documentary
exercise in digressive/oral story telling. The story of the title takes a back
seat to the narrator’s meandering and exploration. Twain was attempting to
appreciate the tradition of oral communication in a local setting in script
form. The point I am trying to make here is, where Glass sees the germ of an
idea or a dead end interaction that is not pursuant of a gist I see a non-traditional
narrative waiting to be told.
But then
again my own beliefs and ideas about documentary are challenged as I enter the
classroom setting to try and get these high school students to produce an audio
documentary. How would I explain to them the philosophical nuance and acceptance
that documentary can include fictional narratives without seeming hypocritical
or confusing the hell out of these high schoolers? Perhaps the only way to address this
issue is to realize the differences and the gap of talent between Ira Glass,
those two authors that I mentioned earlier, and the kids I am mentoring now. I
would consider Ira Glass a competent story teller, he has made himself a name,
a successful radio program, and lots of financial gains. But, I wouldn’t consider
him a master at either story or documentary, at least not like Fred Wiseman nor Mark Twain. And by that same token, the
students I am mentoring aren’t Ira Glass; yes they are passionate about their subject, they tend to be
somewhat technically competent, and are sparsely, intrinsically, versed in what a story is (a
beginning, a middle, and an end). But for all their vim and vigor they are also
over-reaching, distractible, and teenager-ly people who are struggling with other
desires than being critical students within a pedagogical system. So I reconcile
myself with this scenario and with my personal philosophy by realizing that these students need the landmarks that Ira
Glass presented and discussed in his manifesto in order to introduce themselves to the world of documentary and to become more practiced story tellers. Yet I would hope that they would one day be able to continue up to the level of critical
individuals, perhaps even to the level of budding documentarians who may
one day see that for all of the good intentions of storytellers like Ira Glass,
there is much more to story and documentary than meets the eye.
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