Raiders
08-14-2008, 01:22 AM
http://lh6.ggpht.com/_wnuOxC09pxI/SJOx-XDJBYI/AAAAAAAAAoI/aGVgPQF87q0/capt.664c9c0ef34f4710b59f8f359 cd2d3dc.man_on_a_wire_nyet464. jpg
The opening shots seem sadly familiar. Cranes and large construction vehicles roam around the site of the Twin Towers in New York City. The emotion of these scenes cannot be avoided, but immediately we realize this is not a site of destruction, but the construction of the towers in the late 60s. And so it is that James Marsh's documentary makes the site of the worst tragedy of the last decade something the complete opposite; a site of artistic inspiration.
In 1974, a young French high wire artist, Philippe Petit, smuggled in tons of supplies and performed a high wire act between the two buildings, now today labeled the "artistic crime of the century." Marsh creates the film like a light-hearted and thrilling heist film, even giving each conspirator their own moment and intro, shot in profile. It is an amusing and successfully vibrant style that seamlessly makes the events feel new and foregos the standard documentary format.
Perhaps the film's biggest asset in Petit, now almost 60, who is a remarkably vivid storyteller. He is an anecdotal man, often telling the story like one big lesson in the art of his performance and in the art of the preparation. He waves his hands and rambles about and it is wonderful to see the vitality of his inspiration for what he achieved. His friends, and former lovers, speak greatly of his inspiration, even to the point where his dream seemed to consume even them. Like the towers he would conquer, his act was bigger than all of them, and they were willing to lay down and propel him to immortality.
Petit even goes so far as to claim that if he had died, it would have been a "beautiful death." For Petit, there is no explanation for why he wanted to walk across those buildings. The "why" is in the act itself; because no one had done it before and because ever since reading about the plans in the dentist office, he saw it as a calling, as a structure built perfectly for that purpose. The accomplishment is art, and how can you explain the "why" to your art?
Though the film never once mentions it, it is impossible to live in this time and not look with remorse over the once magestic towers now lost forever. I think the film is unique in making that loss an artistic and aesthetic one. To Petit, it is likely that those towers were a sign of his past and of his artform. The sadness that is inherent feels more like a sting that when those towers fell, down with them came the art of their construction, the breathtaking view they offered and the history that is exemplified in Petit. The site is now a place of loss and death, but Marsh's films reminds us of a time when it was the height of the world, and on top stood Petit, daring his (and his friends') lives to give the world an image they wouldn't forget, even after those towers were no longer there. They, like Petit, seem forever frozen in time.
The opening shots seem sadly familiar. Cranes and large construction vehicles roam around the site of the Twin Towers in New York City. The emotion of these scenes cannot be avoided, but immediately we realize this is not a site of destruction, but the construction of the towers in the late 60s. And so it is that James Marsh's documentary makes the site of the worst tragedy of the last decade something the complete opposite; a site of artistic inspiration.
In 1974, a young French high wire artist, Philippe Petit, smuggled in tons of supplies and performed a high wire act between the two buildings, now today labeled the "artistic crime of the century." Marsh creates the film like a light-hearted and thrilling heist film, even giving each conspirator their own moment and intro, shot in profile. It is an amusing and successfully vibrant style that seamlessly makes the events feel new and foregos the standard documentary format.
Perhaps the film's biggest asset in Petit, now almost 60, who is a remarkably vivid storyteller. He is an anecdotal man, often telling the story like one big lesson in the art of his performance and in the art of the preparation. He waves his hands and rambles about and it is wonderful to see the vitality of his inspiration for what he achieved. His friends, and former lovers, speak greatly of his inspiration, even to the point where his dream seemed to consume even them. Like the towers he would conquer, his act was bigger than all of them, and they were willing to lay down and propel him to immortality.
Petit even goes so far as to claim that if he had died, it would have been a "beautiful death." For Petit, there is no explanation for why he wanted to walk across those buildings. The "why" is in the act itself; because no one had done it before and because ever since reading about the plans in the dentist office, he saw it as a calling, as a structure built perfectly for that purpose. The accomplishment is art, and how can you explain the "why" to your art?
Though the film never once mentions it, it is impossible to live in this time and not look with remorse over the once magestic towers now lost forever. I think the film is unique in making that loss an artistic and aesthetic one. To Petit, it is likely that those towers were a sign of his past and of his artform. The sadness that is inherent feels more like a sting that when those towers fell, down with them came the art of their construction, the breathtaking view they offered and the history that is exemplified in Petit. The site is now a place of loss and death, but Marsh's films reminds us of a time when it was the height of the world, and on top stood Petit, daring his (and his friends') lives to give the world an image they wouldn't forget, even after those towers were no longer there. They, like Petit, seem forever frozen in time.