Butler's Cinema Scene

“MONROVIA, INDIANA” My rating: B

143 minutes | No MPAA rating

In this age of polemical documentarians, Frederick Wiseman is an aberration.

The 88-year-old Wiseman — who gained fame and notoriety with 1967’s “Titticutt Follies,” a harrowing descent into life in a mental institution — is as close to an objective filmmaker as exists.

Basically he records reality, making no comment on what his film captures.

Obviously he must make editorial choices…where to point his camera, when to turn it on and off, what footage to use in the final production, what must be left behind.

In “Monrovia, Indiana” Wiseman turns his lens and microphone on the residents of a rural Midwestern burg. Many a filmmaker would use this as an opportunity to comment on Trump country, to subtly slam or celebrate the blue-collar types who are the backbone of these United States.

Uh-uh. Wiseman is aiming for something deeper than a quick where-we-are glimpse at the political scene. Deeper, even, than capturing the current zeitgeist.

He’s looking for even bigger themes of humanity. Who are these creatures called Americans, and what are their lives like?

“Monrovia, Indiana” opens with a sequence set in a Bible study class. The theme is tribulation.

There’s lunch period at the local high school, followed by a talk and slide show presented by a teacher who recounts the town’s legendary place in the world of basketball (Monrovia is the home of coach JohnWooden, among other honors).

The sequence unfolds in five minutes of real time. It requires patience from the observer…if you look closely you can see some of the kids starting to squirm.

Well, get used to it.  This is Wiseman’s style: He turns on his camera and simply lets it run.

At a cafe local oldsters bitch and moan about their health and lack of pep. We attend not one but two city council meetings where participants square off over the idea of building a development to attract new residents.

We sit through a ceremony at the Masonic temple, attend a wedding, and pass time in a gun store where the operator and a customer share tidbits on the health of mutual acquaintances.  Nobody mentions the Second Amendment.

We visit a county fair. The film ends, aptly enough, with a funeral (shades of “Our Town”!).

There’s  no story line here, no commentary, no titles telling us what we’re seeing.

Just life unfolding in front of us.

“Monrovia’s” lack of viewpoint undoubtedly will chafe those who believe that  even a documentary must be shaped for maximum dramatic impact.

But Wiseman’s God’s-eye view of the town — replete with ravishingly beautiful shots of fertile farmland — gets under your skin. You start to watch with more perceptive eyes and slowed-down thoughts.

It’s kind of amazing.

| Robert W. Butler