Rockumentaries

by Tami Wilson

This essay accompanies the Rockumentaries that screen with the following films/programs:

If a Tree Falls
(screens with The Edge of Eden: Living with Grizzlies)
Ready to Fall
(screens with Toxic Trespass)
Sun City
(screens with EMPz 4 Life)
World on Fire
(screens with Iranian Kidney Bargain Sale/Rea på njure)
One Gun
(screens with The Art of War program)

It is 1985 and I’m slumped on the family sofa as Much Music aired Sun City: Artists United Against Apartheid. Like any eighth grader I recognized Bono, Run DMC, and Aretha Franklin as just a few of the artists in the video. However, the camera keeps cutting away from these familiar and enjoyable entertainers, and I am forced to watch news-style footage of police brutality and civilian protests in Africa. It occurred to me that this video was less about entertainment than it was about information. It was a ‘rockumentary’ and it served as my introduction to the very concept of apartheid.

Music videos have both influenced and been influenced by many genres of filmmaking, and documentary is no exception. At the best of times, the coupling of nonfiction filmmaking with passionate and politically minded songwriting can grab the attention of young people, galvanizing an apathetic generation to act upon a cause. At the worst of times, music videos that utilize documentary techniques can be charged with selling out a critical genre for the purpose of selling albums and to bolster a pop star’s public image.

Any discussion about the crossover between nonfiction filmmaking and music videos must start with the mid-eighties. Within a two year span groups like Band Aid performed famine relief songs, dual Live Aid concerts were held in Philadelphia and London, Dionne Warwick rallied friends for the AIDS awareness ballad “That’s What Friends Are For,” and the first of many Farm Aid benefits occurred. This was an era when artists were willing to share the spotlight and harness the power of video, to open our eyes and pocketbooks for some desperate causes. The Sun City video collaboration was a part of this movement toward song-based activism. Yet, it stands apart from the aforementioned projects because it embraced nonfiction filmmaking techniques as a means to communicate its socio-political message.

A seven minute epic masterpiece, Sun City initially looks like a promotional video for a posh resort. A narrator extols that Sun City is “a lavish resort where you can relax and enjoy some of the world’s headline entertainers. It’s part of the reality of apartheid.” The scene changes with a bang (literally, a gun shot) and various members of the Artists United Against Apartheid collective repeat the chorus, “I, I, I ain’t gonna play Sun City.” With the ensemble’s anti-apartheid agenda established by the song’s lyrics, the video employs some conventional documentary practices to strengthen its case. Quotes from Martin Luther King and Nelson Mandela are superimposed over historical photos and archival film. Contemporary news footage showing acts of oppression and resistance in South Africa is also woven into the mix. Celebrities notwithstanding, this music video looks very different than other videos of the era.

In the case of Sun City it is easy to be moved by the altruistic nature of the collaborators. However, the vast majority of music videos are marketing tools designed as advertisements for bands, CDs, and entire lifestyles. In most cases, this profit motive is taken for granted. But when documentary tactics are employed to this end, it is important to question the ideological agenda of the artists and the informative value of the piece itself.

A few weeks ago, I once again found myself slumped in front of the TV, this time watching Much More Music, when I noticed some documentary footage that seemed to focus on animal rights. It was part of the Ready To Fall video by the outspoken vegetarian punk band, Rise Against. The song’s lyrics reference the feelings of alienation and despondency often shared by their demographic audience. The most political line in the whole song is, “Now my compassion slowly drowns.” The teaming of the vague lyrics with powerful images of violence against animals and wildlife in distress seems to be a stretch. The song fails to provide context for the violent images or any analysis of their meaning. Instead, it could easily be construed as a glorified picture of cruelty to animals. I doubt that your average video gaming, preteen boy is going to stop eating meat after seeing this video; perhaps he is more likely to log onto You Tube and blog about the awesome tracking shots of rotting salmon.

Rise Against might wish to take some ‘effective activist’ lessons from a seasoned professional like Bruce Cockburn, and his similarly themed rockumentary If A Tree Falls. The lyrics provide the audience with a wealth of factual information about deforestation and its effects on wildlife and the people who inhabit deforested regions. These hard hitting facts are underscored with startling images of the Amazon in flames, clear-cuts in BC, and animals facing extinction. Even when the camera cuts away to the requisite performance shots of Mr. Cockburn in his unfortunate leather pants, the documentary images continue to be projected in the background, constantly reaffirming the political and ethical agenda of the song. What makes this video so much more effective than Ready To Fall is that it embraces the best attributes of the documentary genre – the ability to provide critical analysis of issues pertinent to all of us.

To be fair to Rise Against, it is important to note that there is bit of commentary tagged onto the end of their video, which unfortunately is rarely included when the video is telecast. Standing in a clear-cut and speaking directly to the camera the band’s lead singer states, “Every action has a reaction. We’ve got one planet, one chance.” While their heart is in the right place, their last ditch effort to affix meaning to their video is too little, too late. Yet, I do commend celebrities who take the opportunity to be magnanimous and use their public relation machinery for great deeds, including the benefit concerts of the 1980’s. The same can be said for 54-40’s video, One Gun. This 1989 Canadian classic features beautiful black and white archival images of stoned hippies stuffing daisies into gun barrels. Overall, the video lacks critical content, but it should be appreciated for its peace anthem qualities.

A more recent music video deserving of special attention is Sarah McLachlan’s World On Fire. The video begins with a subtitle explaining that, while it usually costs $150,000 to make a music video, this one cost only $15 – the price of the video tape used to film McLachlan performing the song in a no frills studio. The rest of the video consists of donated footage of impoverished people living in the world’s poorest regions. The images are contextualized with computer graphics and inter-titles explaining how the budget was spent. For example, the $3,000 that would normally pay for a single day of on-set catering was instead used to provide 10,950 meals to street children in Calcutta. McLachlan’s insightful lyrics, “The more we take, the less we become. The fortune of one that means less for some” work with the visuals to ensure that the overall message is clear. In the world of music videos this one should be lauded for its informative qualities. In the world of documentary the video stands apart for its innovative presentation of social commentary. World On Fire is rockumentary-making at its finest, incorporating the best of song-based education and activism.

All of the rockumentaries discussed here have been included throughout this years’ DOXA festival. By presenting these music videos in a theatre rather than on a television and by prioritizing education over entertainment, it becomes clear that non-fiction filmmaking is not an isolated genre. Documentary is a vibrant practice that both borrows from, and contributes to, a variety of artistic forms. Most importantly, these musical mini-docs serve as a reminder that documentaries can be entertaining, but they should also make us think critically.

Click here to read the Curator bio.