Black lives mattered: Nancy Buirski's latest, THE RAPE OF RECY TAYLOR, opens in theaters

Over the past six years documentarian Nancy Buirski has made four terrific non-fiction films: The Loving Story, Afternoon of a Faun: Tanaquil Le Clercq, By Sidney Lumet and now THE RAPE OF RECY TAYLOR. If her newest documentary does not reach -- film-wise, at least -- the level of her previous movies, its subject matter alone makes it an extremely important piece of work. The documentary relates the story of the titular 24-year-old black woman in Alabama back in 1944 who, after leaving an evening church service and walking toward her home and family, was forced at gunpoint into an automobile by/with six young white men, who took her off with them, raped her multiple times and mutilated her sexual organs (she was unable to have more children after the rapes) and then left her by the roadside, once she had promised "not to tell."

This is a disgusting tale, though not at all unusual in our Southern states during the time of Jim Crow (yes, and before and since). What makes it particularly resonant at this moment, of course, is all the instances of sexual harassment currently coming to the surface and their seeming consequences for the harassers.

I say "seeming" because only time will tell how much will actually "change" regarding male behavior toward the female. Yet whatever problems white women have had regarding sexual harassment, the plight of black women in our country's history would seem to be at least ten times as awful.

What made Recy Taylor's case so significant was less the event itself than her reaction to it. She and her family actually spoke up about what had happened to the community at large. Ms Buirski, shown at right, lets us discover all of this -- the event, finally, and Recy's and her family's reaction to it -- and her film is full of shock and anger at how and why all this took place. (And took place much more frequently than most of us whites would care to know.)

We experience how the black community around the nation rose to the occasion, raised money and publicized the event and its follow-up.

What makes the movie fall down somewhat, particularly compared with the filmmaker's earlier projects, is the fact that Buirski evidently did not have access to nearly as much specific archival footage as in her previous films. Consequently, she must rely on imagined or re-created footage, most of which simply does not do the trick.

Almost from the beginning, this seems unnecessarily repetitive and a little tiresome. And yet, once we hear the known facts of the case, the anger and enormous sense of injustice is so strong that it carries the movie along.

We hear from Recy's surviving family members, from a few of the surviving white families of the perpetrators or their friends, along with other Alabama folk -- many of whom present a very good picture of just why Roy Moore is so likely to win his upcoming election. It's a degrading, disgusting spectacle. But, hey, that's our South, honey. D.W. Griffith would be proud.

The Rape of Recy Taylor is a story that needs to be told, and I am glad Ms Buirski rose to the occasion. Given what she had to work with, I suspect that the film is as good as we could get in terms of a full-length documentary. Though perhaps an hour-long program for television might have worked even better.

From Augusta Films and running 91 minutes, the movie opens in Los Angeles this Friday, December 8, at Laemmle's Monica Film Center, and in New York City next Friday, December 15, at the IFC Center.

BY SIDNEY LUMET: Nancy Buirski's first-class doc is yet another fine one about a filmmaker

Joining two other recent and terrific documentaries -- Hitchcock/Truffaut and De Palma -- that both herald and open up the work of great filmmakers, BY SIDNEY LUMET, the new documentary from Nancy Buirski (who also gave us the excellent Afternoon of a Faun and The Loving Story), reminds us of a wonderful filmmaker who died five years back and whom you might not immediately stick on your list of favorite directors. Watching Ms Buirski's incisive new film should place Lumet up there with the best, while giving you all the reasons why.

Buirski (shown at right) accomplishes this in the simplest of ways: She lets Mr. Lumet talk, while intercutting examples of his work, his history, and a bit of the history of the USA along the way. That is all the movie is, and that's all it takes to make it about as perfect -- intelligent, gripping, eye-opening, surprising and entertaining -- as you could want or need.

Aside from Lumet, there are no other talking heads that ramble on about the man and/or his work. Nor does there need to be. Mr. Lumet, it turns out, was extremely cogent and well-spoken. Not humble, neither was he full of himself. He had, it would seem, an excellent understanding of his abilities, as well as of some of the things that he lacked.

Ms Buirski begins her documentary with Lumet telling a tale of his time in WWII, in Calcutta, on a train, when a group of soldiers swept up a young Indian girl from the station platform, and then passed her around among them to be raped. Lumet is dumbstruck and wonders what he should do. We leave this tale in mid-stream and return to it only at film's end.

In between, Lumet talks of his family life, his time as a child actor (at left), his difficult father, and a contract with (I believe) MGM that somehow hinged on another young actor, Freddie Bartholomew. We learn a lot about his early years as a television director -- and in passing also learn that Yul Brynner, too, in his early years, was a very fine director! It will not surprise movie fans to learn that justice and the search for same is a hallmark, probably the main theme, of Lumet's work. (That's Sean Connery, below, in one of Lumet's least-seen and -appreciated movies, The Hill.)

And yet, what a versatile director he was in terms of projects (some of which he chose, others that were chosen for him). As we view scene after scene, from one film after another, I suspect that you, as I did I, will exclaim under your breath: "Oh, my god: He made that movie, too?" (During the final credit sequence, we get a list of all of the films directed by Lumet, and it's a humdinger: long and mostly good, even if it leaves out the excellent work he did for television.)

From 12 Angry Men (his first film, above) through The Verdict to his penultimate movie Find Me Guilty, Lumet was often in the courtroom, though just as often perhaps in the police station (Serpico, Prince of the City, and Q&A) and most definitely on the street a lot -- as in what many consider his best movie, Dog Day Afternoon. (How amazingly current this one seems, as much now and when it was made. That's Sidney, below, with his star Al Pacino.)  What Lumet says about New York City, its streets and its ravishing winter light, is -- as so much else he tells us -- pointed, well-said, and true.

It's seems a rather stunning discovering that just a man speaking, together with some of his visual history and a lot of his films (the clips from which are very well chosen and wonderfully edited into the documentary) could be this thoughtful and riveting. Well, of course: It all depends on the man and the movies. And, in this case, the documentary filmmaker: Thank you, Ms Buirski! You have sent us back to Lumet with newly opened eyes -- and a huge desire to see many of his movies again: some of his early work that features icons like Marlon Brando (below in The Fugitive Kind) and Sophia Loren (That Kind of Woman),  and especially, Daniel, his adaptation of the E.L. Doctorow book.

By the time this amazing and wonderful doc comes to a close, you will understand much more fully, thanks especially to that World War II/Calcutta reminiscence, why Mr. Lumet proved so interested in justice and the search for it against so many odds. (Yes, that's Peter Finch, in another of Lumet's memorable movies, Network, below)

By Sidney Lumet, running 103 minutes, opens tomorrow, Friday, October 28, in New York City (where else, so far as Sidney was concerned?) at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema, and the following Friday, November 4, in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Royal. Elsewhere? Hope so, but I don't know. Seeing as the movie is part of the American Masters series, you'll certainly be able to view it eventually via Public Television.

A balletomaine streaming "must": Nancy Buirski's doc re Tanaquil LeClercq AFTERNOON OF A FAUN

TrustMovies is no balletomaine, but he still would not have wanted to miss the recent documentary AFTERNOON OF A FAUN: TANAQUIL LE CLERCQ. Many of us older folk (maybe some younger, too) have heard Ms LeClercq's name bandied about in the dance world over the years, so it is good to now know just why that name, the rather amazing dancer/woman to whom it belonged, and her immense reputation remain so securely fixed in American ballet history. Part of the American Masters series via PBS, and one of the better of those films, the documentary received a critically-acclaimed theatrical release some time back and can now be streamed on Netflix, Amazon and elsewhere, or caught on DVD.

As written and directed by Nancy Buirski, the film grabs us from the outset, as we enter the world of ballet and George Balanchine (shown at bottom, left, with LeClercq), the name still most firmly associated with that art here in the USA. Jerome Robbins makes quite an appearance, as well, and as nasty and unpleasant a person as he is often said to have been, he comes across here as a man who was enchanted enough with Tanaquil to be able to actually be a genuine friend (with a little extra prodding now and then)..

There is a wealth of archival footage here (much of it less than hi-def, coming from the 1940s, 50s and 60s as it does), of ballet and New York City and even Europe and Scandinavia (reaching for international acclaim, American ballet traveled frequently back then).

We see and hear from those dancers still around today -- Arthur Mitchell and Jacques D'Amboise (below) -- plus old friends of Tanaquil. Together they (with the help of the filmmaker) weave a fine portrait of this dancer who captivated audiences worldwide until... something very bad happened.

What, how and why is brought to us with shock and sadness, yet the dancer's life went on for quite some time -- but without dance. It's a great tale, beautifully told and one that will bring you up close and personal with a woman who, until now, has been but a name and kind of distant legend for many of us.

Here's your chance to meet her about as intimately as one can imagine doing in a 91-minute film -- which, as I say, you can view now via Netflix streaming and elsewhere, and on DVD.

In THE LOVING STORY, Nancy Buirski gives us the real Mildred and Richard -- and more

I first recall hearing about Richard and Mildred Loving via a movie made, I believe, for cable TV back in 1996, Mr. & Mrs. Loving, in which the pair was played by Timothy Hutton and Lela Rochon (both of whom proved capable actors but neither of whom look anything like the actual people involved). The Lovings' story is an important one: memorable, uplifting and necessary, as it brought to the fore the racist miscegenation laws prohibiting inter-racial marriage that, in 1958, when the couple wed, still existed in fully half of our states (we had 48 at the time, and the law was in effect in 24 of these).

As well-done, if a tad melodramatic, as the narrative version was, what a difference it is to see the actual events presented in documentary form via THE LOVING STORY, as directed, co-written and co-produced by Nancy Buirski (shown at right), with enormous help from documen-tary footage taken by Grey Villet. Mr. Villet, a photo-journalist for Life magazine, shot his material in 1965, in that period when the Lovings were going through one trial after another, leading from State Court to Federal Court to State Supreme Court, back to the lower courts and finally to the U.S. Supreme Court.

Once married, the Lovings were rousted from their bed in the middle of the night, jailed, and then forced to leave the state of Virginia, which had been their families' longtime home. They relocate out of state and to the big city, where Mildred had never lived and where raising children proved anathema to her.

To get back to Virginia, the pair would have to tackle the law, and to do that, Mildred writes to Robert Kennedy (then the nation's Attorney General), and he suggests working with the ACLU and its lawyers. At this point we are well into a journey that would take nearly a decade to complete. (From the time of the Lovings' marriage to their return to Virginia encompassed nine years.)

Not only do we get some amazing filmed footage of the pair over this time, and of their children, above, we also get plenty of footage of the lawyers at work, explaining to us what might to be done to help the situation and the various outcomes this might have. We also see these two lawyers then and now -- as they look back on what proved to be the most important case of their lives.

This is amazing, rarely-seen movie-making, partly, of course, due to the historic footage that was  available. But Buirski and her team have whipped it all together quite well. The film begins with a man's voice explaining why interracial marriage goes against god's plan. These are, of course, stupid words, the presumption in which is rather staggering, even back in 1958. When we later learn who spoke them -- and how, by doing so, he actually helped the Lovings' case -- the effect is bracing indeed.

Seeing Mildred and Richard up close and so very personal is almost breath-taking. They appear such shy and basically decent people that we don't want to encroach upon them. Yet they, especially Mildred, possessed a keen intelligence and a strong enough backbone to push for justice and see it through. And the two lawyers, as young as untutored as they were at the time, proved equally bright and very game.

Along the way we learn about everything from the state's Racial Integrity Act to why, at the beginning of the case, one of the Lovings' lawyers possessed not even enough experience to legally stand before the U.S. Supreme Court. Because so much actual filmed footage exists, when we come to a point in the documentary -- the actual case as it was heard in the U.S. Supreme Court  -- where we cannot see real filmed footage, Buirski does a lovely thing: As we hear the words uttered in court, by both the defense and prosecution, we see visuals of the lawyers, then and now, and of the Justices at that time, and finally of Mildred and her children doing something as prosaic yet moving as shopping in the local supermarket. This is one thrilling, meaningful movie.

The Loving Story, an HBO Documentary (which fittingly premiered premiered on the cable channel last Valentine's Day) -- distributed theatrically by Icarus Films and running 75 minutes -- is getting a week's run at the Maysles Cinema in New York City's Harlem, beginning Monday, December 10 through Sunday, December 16. Click here for directions and here for tickets.