The Ross McElwee DVD Collection

In 2004, First Run Features released the entire 7 Up cycle on DVD. This intriguing series -- a work-in-progress that recently turned 50 -- checks in on the same group of unrelated children every seven years, following the triumphs and disappointments of their adult lives. Thankfully, First Run has now released a conceptually similar, but even more impressive (and personal), series of films: The Ross McElwee DVD Collection. If you're too busy to stick around for the whole review, let me cut to the chase. For my money, Ross McElwee is the most original and inspired voice in non-fiction filmmaking today.

Unlike the 7 Up films, McElwee's films don't have a rigid conceptual design. However, while each film focuses on a different topic (searching for a wife, the death of a parent/birth of a child, the media, the tobacco industry), each film shares a subjective, autobiographical style, oriented from the perspective of director/protagonist, Ross McElwee. These are films about important, universal issues, but they're also about one man's distinct life experiences.

But McElwee isn't some kind of limelight-hogging egomaniac. In fact, rarely has a movie protagonist ever appeared on camera this infrequently. Operating the camera himself at all times, McElwee remains firmly planted behind its lens, yet his presence is felt (and his voice is heard) in every scene. To clarify, McElwee's basic strategy is to go about his daily life -- or whatever personal investigation he's engaged in -- with a camera on his shoulder. We follow McElwee's journeys without seeing him, yet we see and hear roughly everything he sees and hears in each scene.

There's something almost revolutionary about McElwee's invisible protagonist. His films represent a groundbreaking convergence of characterization and cinematic form, as the filmmaking itself illustrates the protagonist's impressions, emotions, and perspective at all times (almost every shot in McElwee's films are point-of-view shots). Furthermore, as McElwee also edits his films, every cut and editorial decision represents another layer of subjectivity. The more I think about McElwee's work, the more I realize that there's a strange perfection to his peculiar brand of low budget filmmaking. His themes grow so organically out of his interest in the medium that he creates what may well be a perfect union of form and content.

McElwee's films constantly examine, even interrogate, the medium, without ever resorting to tedious heavy-handedness or pretentiousness (two trademarks of the autobiographical documentary). McElwee's films are dense, insightful, funny, and humanistic, a combination that would make Jean Renoir -- or Mark Twain, the novelist McElwee is often compared to -- proud. It's hard to make perceptive observations about flawed people, without positioning yourself as superior, but McElwee genuinely knows (and loves) his characters. Hell, he's one of them.

As a character, McElwee is laid back, ordinary, and even oddly functional. He isn't burdened by dramatic, high concept, newsworthy problems (well, except in Six O'Clock News), but he is burdened by the same philosophical issues and questions that consume everyone: time, memory, history, aging, death, and the way in which all these issues converge in relation to family. Thankfully, his thoughts are just a little more perceptive and entertaining than everyone else's.

McElwee is not particularly interested in raising hell or tackling broad, social and political issues. In an era of impersonal documentaries that try to be about everything, McElwee makes films about little things that are meaningful to him. Ironically, by not swinging for the fences with large, dramatic gestures, McElwee says far more about real life and the reality most of us know than his more career-oriented, publicity-savvy peers (ie. Michael Moore, Errol Morris). He's not looking for headlines -- and he rarely gets them -- but the documentary form is quietly reaching new heights in McElwee's one-of-a-kind body-of-work.

This comprehensive -- and much-appreciated -- DVD collection includes few substantial features, but a wealth of cinematic content. In fact, since each film is pretty much a sequel to its predecessors, there isn't much need for extras. If you want background, watch one of the earlier films. If you want epilogue, watch one of the later ones.

Still, The Ross McElwee Collection isn't completely free of bonus material. In addition to some brief interviews, we get several terrific deleted scenes from Sherman's March and Bright Leaves, most of which warrant viewing as accomplished short films in their own right. We also get an interesting segment from John Pierson's TV show, Split Screen, in which two enthusiastic film students photograph and interact with McElwee in his inimitable (or in this case, imitable) style. There are no major revelations here, but we do get a glimpse of McElwee's other profession (he's a professor at Harvard), which is rarely even alluded to in his films.

This is an extremely pricey set but, if you have any interest in non-fiction filmmaking, the work of Ross McElwee is essential. This set doesn't include everything he's made, but it does include his four major films -- Sherman's March, Time Indefinite, Six O'Clock News, Bright Leaves -- and the two (lengthy) short films that started it all: Backyard and Charleen. My recommendation: get out of your seat, pick up a camera, and go photograph yourself buying The Ross McElwee Collection. -- Jonathan Doyle