In his new documentary, NOMAD, Werner Herzog explores the late Bruce Chatwin

TrustMovies has long been fascinated by the traveler/journalist/ novelist Bruce Chatwin. I've read every book he'd written, each of which I'd loved and been mystified by in about equal measure. Reading him is being marvelously transported then suddenly going either over the top or under the rug to the point that I would usually stop and start over from some past sentence, paragraph or even entire page. His subjects were as diverse as you could wish but his themes seemed fairly consistent to me: restlessness and the other. I would call both the man and his work ineffable -- in the sense of being somehow indescribable and also not-to-be-uttered, the latter of which was how he handled the disease that killed him. Chatwin, shown below, was one of the early victims of AIDS. Married to a woman, he kept his homosexuality and/or bisexuality tightly closeted.

If you were to pick a moviemaker to also describe as ineffable, I can't imagine a better candidate than Werner Herzog, a director and documentarian whose field of interest is every bit as diverse as Chatwin's and whose approach to it all is equally memorable, as well as over the top and under the rug. 

Before viewing Herzog's new film, NOMAD: In the Footstep of Bruce Chatwin, I didn't realize how very close these two men were. No wonder the film that Herzog has made captures so well the personality and strangeness of his most unusual subject. In a number of ways, these two oddball artists were made for each other.

As usual in his films, Herr Herzog hops all over the place, and if we may have trouble keeping up, at least he does not bore us. The filmmaker, shown at right, begins with some dinosaur skin -- or at least that's what Chatwin's grandmother told the kid this strange pre-historic object was (it turns out, I believe, to be part of a giant sloth). From there Herzog takes us into Chatwin's life and love of wandering, his varied interests, his writings and how some of these came about, the people he knew and loved (we meet his wife, Elizabeth, shown below, from the rear, though we do also see her face), and eventually even something of his sexuality: a horny little guy, he is said to have bedded any and every one he could, men and women alike.

As you might expect, Herzog spends much of the movie's time on Chatwin's famous work The Songlines and speaks with various Aborigines and white Australians about this unusual book. Though a best-seller in several countries in the non-fiction category, Chatwin later called the book fiction, some of which it clearly was (turns out that Bruce "made stuff up" when it served his purpose and theme). Well, that's part of what makes the guy "ineffable" (or, as some might call it, "precious"). I've long felt that Herr Herzog does the same thing in many of his films; that's part of their charm and their craziness.

What we learn of The Viceroy of Ouidah (and Herzog's film adaptation of it) is also fascinating, in particular the information about its star, Klaus Kinski (this film proved the last collaboration between Kinski and Herzog). Some of the archival photos enrich our understanding, as well (below are the director and his subject in their earlier days).

The most moving section of the film involves Chatwin's impending death and Herzog's part in it. It's difficult to watch this and not feel, all over again, how AIDS so decimated the world's artistic community. For Herzog fans, as well as Chatwin's, the movie is a must, and I suspect it may ensnare some newcomers, too, who will then seek out this unusual writer and his work.

From Music Box Films and running 85 minutes, NOMAD: In the Footstep of Bruce Chatwin will open in virtual (and even a few actual) theaters, beginning this Wednesday, August 26. To view all currently scheduled theatrical and streaming playdates, click here and then scroll down to click on Theatrical Engagements.

A trans tale like few others -- Jeanie Finlay's SEAHORSE: THE DAD WHO GAVE BIRTH

Since the movie under review here is a documentary, rather than science fiction, readers can pretty quickly figure out that SEAHORSE: THE DAD WHO GAVE BIRTH must indeed involve a woman who transgenders to a man and then, even so, gives birth to a baby. Although the film most reminded me of a 1968 play by Colin Spencer, Spitting Image, that my ex-wife and I saw in New York City back in 1969, it is indeed a piece of non-fiction that tracks the decision by this then-30-year-old male named Freddy McConnell, to first be inseminated via the sperm of an unknown donor and then carry to term and give birth to her/his own child.

As produced, directed and with some footage shot by Jeanie Finlay (shown at left), the documentary moves pleasantly along, skirting much depth or profundity, and even seeming to prefer not to get close to anything dark or negative.

Although we get some of Freddy's family history, and meet his mom and step-dad ("Mom's an extrovert who's got this family of introverts," he tells us with a smile), it would appear, from what we see and learn here, that McConnell has so far had a pretty easy time of transgendering.

He does want to keep news of his pregnancy from leaking out to the town in which he and his family live. Oh, yes: And the young man -- one C J -- with whom Freddy was to share and raise this child suddenly backs out of the arrangement for reasons we never learn. Other than all that, though, things are going swimmingly.

It takes about half the film before Freddy finally gets pregnant. From that point, he is besieged by morning (or, as he calls it, "all-day") sickness, the usual bizarre hormonal changes brought on by pregnancy, a little self-doubt countered by his mom's encouragement (that's she, below, right), and finally the reappearance of C J, whom now, we are told, is going to be the new family's faithful friend.

It's not that we necessarily want to learn more negatives here. God knows, most trans folk have enough of those in their lives already. But the nagging question, "Who are these people?" crops up often enough in this relatively short movie that its insistence on bouncing along the surface becomes more and more annoying. Post his child's birth (in water), all seems well once again for Freddy, his new family and his old.

All has not gone quite as Mr. McConnell migh have wished, however. The movie does not go into any of this, but if you would like to learn more, you can click here and peruse an article from Britain's newspaper, The Guardian, at which Mr. McConnell worked as a journalist.

Visually speaking, Ms Finlay gives us a nice look at a duck gathering material for a nest plus a few too many shots of birds flying (freedom, you know) and that titular seahorse, the species in which it is the male who does the birthing.

From 1091 and running just 86 minutes, Seashore: The Dad Who Gave Birth will be available -- to rent or buy -- via digital or VOD this coming Tuesday, June 16.

TYPICALLY BRITISH: A Personal History of British Cinema by Stephen Frears is one reason (among many) to subscribe to OVID

This utterly charming, entertaining and information-crammed documentary begins with a wonderfully ridiculous quote by the late François Truffaut so redolent of that peculiar French snobbery (coupled to Anglophobia) that you almost can't believe this great filmmaker would have been stupid enough to say it. Well, never say never.

The short documentary's subtitle is apt, as well. "Personal" indeed -- as Stephen Frears (shown above and at right) tells us within the first few minutes how he learned about both punishment and sex from movies and his school's headmaster. Not to worry: There's nothing really actionable here. What there is, however -- as with Bertrand Tavernier's delightful, informative (and a good deal longer and deeper) French counterpart -- is a grand run through several decades of a country's cinema (including some fascinating bits about British television) that, while hardly inclusive (there's a list of movies at

the finale Frears apologizes for leaving out), manages to touch a remarkable amount of films and filmmakers in a brief, intelligent and thoughtful manner.

Co-directed by another filmmaker and documentarian, Michael Dibb (shown at left), TYPICALLY BRITISH: A Personal History of British Cinema by Stephen Frears will reacquaint you with some of the leading lights of Brit film, as well as with some names you probably have not even heard of but will want to learn more about (and maybe view some of their work).

The film sits Mr. Frears down with two sets of two British film personalities of different generations: the first with writer/director Alexander Mackendrick and screenwriter Gavin Lambert, the second with filmmakers Michael Apted (below, center) and Alan Parker (below, left; that's Frears on the right). Both sessions are wonderfully rich with pertinent, occasionally gossipy movie-insider information.

What helps set the documentary apart is all this very interesting detail about filmmaking via these five men, all of whom have worked in the film industries on both sides of the Atlantic. In addition to history and critical analysis, this adds some genuinely telling information about the filmmaking process, as well as about those working behind (but not so much in front of) the camera.

Fascinating tidbits abound, such as Laurence Olivier's narration for the documentary about the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, an event, we are informed, that sent so many Britishers out to purchase television sets (then relatively new) that this hastened the decline of the British film industry. (Ah, yes: Yet another thing that obnoxious royal family has to answer for.)

Mr. Apted has much to say about how important was the very good British television of his time, while Mr. Parker provides huge enjoyment via his reminiscences and willingness to admit certain things. Regarding the "art" cinema that turns so many heads in the 1960s, "I thought Ingmar Bergman was the one who appeared in Casablanca." And as the men discuss the multi-Oscar-winning movie Darling, "Did you dream about Julie Christie?" (she's shown below) Frears inquires. "I did more than dream about her," Parker shoots back.

From Hitchcock to Powell & Pressburger, Ken Russell, Nicolas Roeg and Ken Loach to producers such as Michael Balcon and David Puttnam, if they are not all here, well, plenty of them certainly turn up. Near complete agreement seems to arrive from our fellows regarding the films of Ken Loach, in particular Kes (below), as one of the "greats" of British film. First to last, this doc is a consistent delight and a necessary reminder of just how much Britain has contributed to cinema down the decades. So: Fuck you, but I still love you, M. Truffaut!

You can watch Typically British: A Personal History of British Cinema by Stephen Frears (74 minutes long) now via OVID, the subscription streaming service that, as much as does some better-known and much-longer-around streaming services for art films, provides a remarkably rich and varied menu of narrative and documentary film. Click here for more information.

63 UP, Michael Apted's continuing extension of the landmark British 7 UP series, opens

Film buffs, particularly those who love documentaries, can hardly be unaware of the great British series that began on television back in 1963, with an episode of World in Action devoted to profiling a highly diverse -- in terms of class (and therefore economic station) and in one case race -- group of seven-year-old children, which proved popular enough that its director, a 22-year-old fellow named Michael Apted, did a revisit to the kids seven years later, and consequently a renewed visit at each seven-year period until now, as these "children" reach the age of 63.

With each visit the series has grown richer, stranger, often sadder, and definitely more complex as we watch these lives grow, blossom (in ways both typical and quite unexpected) and now begin to end.

Mr. Apted (shown at right) and TrustMovies both happen to have been born in the same year (1941), a fact that of course has us wondering if we'll be around for any further episodes -- he to film them, I to view them. God, I hope so, and I also hope he has selected someone to follow up for him, just in case.

Younger viewers who have arrived mid-series may be able to last until each of these people have bid the world adieu. Lucky are they! Meanwhile here we are at the participants' age of 63, eager to learn what has happened during the past seven years.

I suspect many viewers will be ever more grateful to Tony, above (and in the red-and-white striped shirt next to the 63UP logo, further up), that short, sweet, energetic little kid who wanted to become a jockey, gave it his best shot, and then went on to drive a cab. One of this series' linchpins is "Give me a child at seven years, and I will show you the man." While Apted continues to ask his subjects if they think this to be true (they seem to agree, to various extents), it appears absolutely truest with Tony, whose positive energy, despite his share of setbacks, continues to buoy the series beautifully. Everything we saw at age seven, we still see now -- in spades.

Other of the children have aged quite differently. Nick (at right), for instance, after a promising physics career here in the USA, has now grown quite ill.

At one point in his interview, discussing his relationship with his late father, he addresses the filmmaker personally. "You know me, Michael: I probably haven't dealt with it fully." Which makes us viewers suddenly realize that, yes: Apted really does know and understand these people -- probably better than some of their friends and/or relatives know them.

At another point in the film, Jackie (at left) gives the filmmaker "what for," telling him, "You didn't have any idea of the changing role of women in Britain!" He doesn't disagree. As this series has rolled on, the role of the filmmaker to and for his subjects has clearly become more and more personal. Which simply adds to the series' depth and pleasure.

Jackie has endured quite a journey -- marriage, divorce, kids, and now, with the death of a partner, single-grand-parenting -- as have most of the "Up" series' participants -- except, perhaps, for a couple of the upper-class males here: Andrew (shown below) and John, the latter of whom has long struck me as the most clueless of the participants (he still does not seem to understand the why and wherefore of inequality in Britain).

John had earlier pulled his participation, due to critical comments made about him, but has now come back, and I do not wish to push his pulling out again, so I apologize in advance. John, shown below, is, as are all the rest, hugely important to this series, but the lives of these two upper-class children, now aging men, seemed to have changed the least. They set their sights as kids, achieved much (if not all, particularly in John's case) of what they wanted and seemed to have worked, lived and married quite well, and to have grown and changed the least of all the participants -- except maybe Tony, who wouldn't waste much time complaining in any case.

Among the women, major surprises are in store from wealthy playgirl-then-happily-married-mother Suzy and especially from that lovely children's librarian, Lynn (shown at bottom), but all the participants here have their interesting life choices (or events that life forces) to share.

Lynn's story will certainly move you, but so, I should imagine, will all of them to varying degrees: Neil (below), still struggling but coping with depression and relationships; Symon, after helping produce a number of children via two wives, is now fostering even more of them; the ever sweet, charming and industrious Sue; Paul, still living and working in Australia; and Bruce, ever heavier but as happy at work as he is now as a family man, too.

I could go on -- and I would like to, about each and every child who has grown into an interesting man or woman -- but those who've already seen the series will want to find out for themselves. For those who have not, 63 Up is as good an entry point as any (except of course the first one) because each participant's story is given as much of the history as viewers will need to fill in enough blanks to appreciate these lives.

If you decide to view the entire series (available on home video), don't even think about binge-watching because there

is so much repetition over the episodes that you'll drive yourself crazy in the process. It is very much worth seeing the entire series, however; just allow ample time to elapse between viewings.

Released by BritBox and running 144 minutes, 63 Up opened this past week in New York City at Film Forum. Elsewhere? Not sure, but one would imagine this film will eventually find its way to home video, just as have the others in the series.

The life & times of skating champion John Curry in James Erskine doc, THE ICE KING

What a sad, sad life. Though Olympic champion John Curry is most remembered for his magnificent ice skating that turned sport into art, as well as for his "off-the-record" remark about his homosexuality that made him the first openly gay winner of an Olympic championship, viewers of THE ICE KING, are likely to come away from this surprising and very moving 2018 documentary feeling as saddened as they are surprised by the life of this man -- who died in 1994 at the untimely age of 44.

As written and directed by noted documentarian James Erskine, shown at left, the movie plows right into this almost typical -- except for Curry's amazing skills and tenacity -- story of a 20th Century growing-up-gay man, including that withholding father whom you can never quite please, and the consequent loneliness of a life lived far too long in the closet.

Thanks to a trove of varied and pointed archival footage -- much of which is not first-rate quality but is clearly the best of what was available -- we experience Curry's life as a child, a young man and finally as a hugely successful skater/artist.

As narrated by actor Freddie Fox, the documentary moves at a good clip, underscoring the more important points along the way and making good use of that fine archival footage with much less time given to the usual "talking heads" we encounter in so many more typical biographical docs.

We meet the friends, lovers and business associates of Mr. Curry (the artist is shown above and below), who together help build a portrait of a driven, lonely and not ever very happy young man.

The film allows us to see enough of his training, skating and "dance" -- I think there's no getting around the fact that viewing Curry in action was like watching the finest male ballet dancer (think Nureyev, among a very few others) on ice -- to understand why, as both athlete and artist, this man was exceptional.

The Ice King also gives us its subject, warts and all -- late in the film we learn that Curry could be particularly nasty to the women in his troupe -- including the various demons that drove him (he liked to be "punished" sexually, it would seem).

Through it all, however, what emerges is an artist of huge talent and possibility.

What Curry achieved, as shown here, should only make you sorry you could not have seen him in action at, say, his debut on the stage of New York City's Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center. The word wow would seem to have been coined just for him.

From Film Movement and running 89 minutes, The Ice King makes its American DVD and digital debut this coming Tuesday, October 8 -- for purchase and/or rental.

Don't bother with NUREYEV, a too-often risible documentary about the famous ballet dancer....

...but do see, if you haven't already, The White Crow, the much-better narrative version of Rudolf Nureyev's early life leading to and including his 1961 trip to Paris with the Kirov ballet troupe, during which he defected to the west. Unfortunately, the new documentary film by Jacqui Morris and David Morris, titled simply NUREYEV, proves about as ham-fisted a display of filmmaking as I've seen in some time.

TrustMovies might not feel so strongly this way, were it not for the many, many filmic interruptions to their documentary offered up by the Morrises -- Jacqui is shown at left, while David (I believe that is he, at least) is below, right -- via scenes of dance and movement meant to underscore or represent what we are simultaneously being told on the soundtrack.

These staged scenes grow increasingly silly as the doc moves along -- first, because they are simply unnecessary. If there were no archival footage that worked with the narration,

why not simply show whoever is currently narrating? (The filmmakers never do this: Their movie is an array of constantly changing disembodied voices.) Further, these "danced" segments are increasingly disruptive, calling huge attention to themselves, even as they keep causing us to wonder, "Why are we having to view all this?"

Whether these danced scenes are well done seems beside the point, as they all are unnecessary. (Some are less ridiculous than others, especially one toward the end that features a strongly-built and talented male dancer and goes on long enough to make us wonder if this one is going to break free and become its very own short film.)

Otherwise Nureyev is full of verbal narrative -- everyone from Yehudi Menuhin, Leslie Caron and Dame Siân Phillips (who oddly enough has been chosen to speak for Nureyev) to Clement Crisp and Pierre Lacotte -- along with the usual archival and/or newsreel footage. There is some previously unseen archival dance footage, some of it choreographed by the likes of Martha Graham and Paul Taylor, but much of this is also so old, worn and out of focus that at times you may wonder just who you are viewing. (Visually, the most stunning shots in the film remain Richard Avedon's remarkable 1961 photos of Nureyev, still the glistening black-and-white wonders we remember. Seen here, on the big screen, they're jaw-dropping.)

By far the most interesting and lengthy sections of the doc involves Nureyev's relationships, romantic and professional, with Erik Bruhn and Dame Margot Fonteyn (the latter shown above and below), both of whom would seem to have been the loves of his life. These sections come already so full of narrative gold, as well as visual material that,  thankfully, none of those aforementioned "danced" sequences are needed.

The encroachment of AIDS into the world of performing arts back in the 1980s is explored somewhat here, and, as the disease eventually took Nureyev's own life, is certainly worth remembering. The documentary earns its bona fides by reminding us that only in the western world is AIDS no longer life-threatening. In the developing world it remains as much of a scourge as ever.

Nureyev takes a chronological approach to its dancer/hero: birth to early childhood, youth and finally that dedication to dance and adulthood, if not maturity. If you are among those who found Rudolf Nureyev as spectacular, sexual and riveting an icon as did I and so much of the rest of the world, you may find the film worth a watch. Certainly, it provides the other bookend, chronologically, to The White Crow. Too bad it is not a better one.

Released by Cinelife Entertainment and running 110 minutes, Nureyev has its New York theatrical premiere this coming Friday, June 7, at Film Forum, and then will move elsewhere around the country. To learn if the film is coming to a theater near you, click here, then click on GET TICKETS and follow the directions from there.

Roger Michell's TEA WITH THE DAMES proves a "must" for fans of four great British actresses

Wild horses couldn't hold back fans of the four great actresses -- Maggie Smith, Judi Dench, Joan Plowright and Eileen Atkins -- featured in the new documentary, TEA WITH THE DAMES from viewing this film. All four are indeed Dames (the female equivalent of British knighthood) and their storied careers are covered in some detail and depth in this 81-minute documentary directed by that fine journeyman filmmaker Roger Michell (Notting Hill, The Mother, Le Week-end). The film is non-stop pleasure for fans, of which this quartet has millions.

Mr. Michell, shown at left, makes himself mostly scarce as he records a get-together of the four (this sort of thing happens fairly regularly, we are told, as the women have been fast friends for deacdes now), during which the ladies -- sorry, Dames -- laugh, reminisce, bring each other up to date and finally dare to explore their somewhat limited future possibilities.

Michell and his foursome daren't go too deep. Whenever a sad or distressing subject pops up, there's a pause and we can see that a discordant chord has been struck, of which we may or may not already be aware -- the death of a loved one, a failed relationship -- but this is enough to bring us up short, before we move on to lighter topics.

There's a lovely intimacy to the movie, in which the women, of course, understand that they are being filmed. God knows, they're used to this and so can behave as close to "normal" as the viewer could desire. (That's Smith, above, and Atkins below.)

Ms Plowright (at left, below) has lost her sight (something TrustMovies did not know going into the film) and so proves the saddest of the lot. Not that she herself perhaps feels so sad, but it is she, perforce, who does the least here, and that cannot help but make the viewer sad, given all her fine performances that we remember.

The documentary is shot through with archival photos and snippets of some of the actresses stage, screen and TV work, and this proves an utter delight. Seeing Dench (below) performing as a young woman will make some Americans wish that we'd grown up in Britain, just to have been able to see so much more of her (as well as the others') sterling work.

The in-and-out/past-and-present editing (by Joanna Crickmay and Anthony Wall) is first-rate, and the movie bounces along at a good pace. By the time the women break out the champagne, you'll feel as if you could join right in, so intimate, enjoyable, sometimes even memorable -- that's Smith receiving her "Damehood" from Queen Elizabeth, below -- has been this afternoon "tea."

If America has four comparable actresses with this much exceptional work behind them (and some in front of them, one hopes), particularly in legitimate theater, I can't imagine who they are. Even our Meryl pales in comparison.

From IFC Films and Sundance Selects, the documentary arrives in New York City this Friday, September 21, at the IFC Center and the Quad Cinema, and then the following Friday, September 28, it hits Los Angeles at Laemmle's Royal. Here in South Florida, it opens Friday, October 5 in Coral Gables at the Bill Cosford Cinema, in Miami Beach at the O Cinema, and in Boca Raton at the Living Room Theater. If you're not near these locations, don't despair: The film will hit VOD next Thursday, September 27.