Undefeated, which follows the season-in-the-life of an inner city high school football team in Memphis, took the Academy Award® for Best Documentary Feature.  "A year ago today we were sitting in our editing room, depressed, thinking nobody was ever going to see this movie," director/producer Dan Lindsay exclaimed upon accepting the award. "A friend said, 'Don't worry; next year you'll be at the Oscars,' and we said, 'You're an idiot.' So we'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to him and say you're a lot smarter than we thought." Director/producer JT Martin added, "We would also like to acknowledge our fellow nominees. They have inspired us in so many ways. They should be up here with us—actually that would be fucking cool! [The F-bomb was, of course bleeped out of the telecast, but we happily share it with you here.]" Lindsay also acknowledged producers Ed Cunningham, Glen Zipper and Seth Gordon, as well as Ralph Zipper and Zipper Bros Films, Chris Miller and Thom Powers, who screened the film at DOC NYC. Producer Rich Middlemas gave shout-outs to Harvey Weinstein, The Weinstein Company, Nigel Sinclair and Spitfire.

Responding to a question backstage about the documentary category, Lindsay remarked, "There's an unbelievable grouping in films. Paradise Lost, they freed three people out of jail, and that's incredible. Hell and Back Again is one of the most cinematic documentaries I've ever seen. Pina is pushing boundaries. If a Tree Falls is intelligent and inspiring. Because of the technology, there's a way to make films that you couldn't make before and you can tell stories that you couldn't tell before, and I think people are clamoring for something genuine."

Saving Face, which tells the story of two Pakistani women, both acid attack survivors, and their journey to recovery and justice for their attackers, took the Oscar® for Best Documentary Short Subject. After thanking his family, HBO and the London-based, Pakistani-born plastic surgeon Dr. Mohammad Jawad, director Daniel Junge graciously turned the podium over to director Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy, who delivered a heartfelt homage to the women of Pakistan.

Backstage, Obaid-Chinoy, acknowledging that she was the first Pakistani to ever win an Academy Award®, said, "I hope that this will be an impetus to getting a more flourishing film industry in Pakistan."

Editor's Note: Over the next few weeks, we at IDA will be introducing our community to the filmmakers whose work has been honored by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences with an Oscar nomination. Undefeated is nominated in the Best Documentary Feature category. You can see it at DocuDay in both New York and Los Angeles.

If you typically spend your leisure time watching documentaries, you might know Ed Cunningham as the producer of films such as King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters. But if you typically watch ESPN, you might know Ed Cunningham as a former offensive lineman with the Arizona Cardinals and Seattle Seahawks, and for several years one of ESPN's on-air college football analysts.

Cunningham and his producing partner Seth Gordon have, in less than a decade, produced a series of successful feature-length documentaries: New York Doll (Dir.: Greg Whiteley), the story of Arthur "Killer" Kane, bassist for the New York Dolls; the arcade gamer film King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, which Gordon directed and Cunningham produced; and a profile of teen magician competitions Make Believe (Dir.: J. Clay Tweel; Prod.: Steven Klein). And now Cunningham's professional worlds converge with the Oscar-nominated documentary Undefeated, directed by Dan Lindsay and TJ Martin and also produced by Rich Middlemas and Glen Zipper.

Undefeated spends a season following the Manassas High School Tigers, a football team from inner-city Memphis, which, in its 110-year history, has never made it to a playoff game. But then six years ago, in walked volunteer coach Bill Courtney, who committed himself to working with these teens to change all that.

But don't let the football backdrop make you think you're in for seeing some kind of real life Bad News Bears story. As Cunningham describes it, "The thing that's wonderful about this film, speaking as an athlete, is that it's not really a sports film. There's a real moment in that film that's poignant. It's one of the most profound things that Coach Bill says: 'Football doesn't build character. It reveals character.'

Coach Bill Courtney (center), featured in Dan Lindsay and TJ Martin's Undefeated, which opens in theater February 17  through The Weinstein Company.

 "I've always taken very seriously that I was lucky in that I was coached by a lot of really great men," Cunningham admits. "This is why Undefeated was such great project to be involved in; I had coaches like Bill Courtney. But I was lucky enough not to live in an environment like those guys [in the film] live in."

When he speaks of their "environment," Cunningham is not just referring to economic circumstances. "Football in July and August is a hard sport in that heat down South," he notes. "Hopefully, you have people around the team like Coach Bill and the other volunteers to make sure you understand that this work is really not for this sport. Yeah, we're gonna be good. Yeah, we're gonna win. But this is for the rest of your life and how you conduct yourself as a man off the field."

Gordon believes Cunningham's sports background has contributed to his producing work. "I think Ed has a natural leadership which comes literally from being on these teams," he explains. "Central to each of the films we've made is, he's able to help give [the project] that sense of pride and strength that comes from having played at the highest level in that sport. I think there's a real relationship with those skill sets."

TJ Martin and Dan Lindsay, who had known Gordon for several years, along with co-producer Rich Middlemas, brought their idea for Undefeated to Gordon and Cunningham while still in the planning stages. The directors' previous, and only, documentary was Last Cup: The Road to the World Series of Beer Pong.

 "We love a great complex layered story," Gordon says. "I thought Dan and TJ's documentary about beer pong captured a very touching and heart-warming story in what you'd normally think is a shallow story. Ed and I thought that if they'd have a deep piece of material, they'd really be able to tell a compelling tale."

 "Because I get my fill of sports with my ESPN job, I tend to like other things outside of that," Cunningham says. "We just got the sense that this would be more than just a high school football movie. They wanted it to be like a Friday Night Lights or a Miracle, which is one of my all-time favorite sports movies. They showed us some test footage, and they knew who to follow; they knew where the stories were. It didn't take long for Seth and I to jump on board with them after that meeting."

Producer Ed Cunningham, who is also a college football analyst for ESPN.

Gordon and Cunningham first met while Gordon was editing a "scared straight" type project for the Marine Corps, directed by Greg Whiteley (who would direct New York Doll). Cunningham was hired to be the voiceover talent.

Gordon describes how he and Cunningham work together. "I often play the role of supporting the directors in certain problems--in post, in restructuring. But when it comes to the heavy level--Ed's chops on the legal side and all that stuff--he's unrivaled. In the early stages, we're very hand-in-hand, thinking about the same kinds of things, and the deeper we get into the process, the more we start wearing our respective hats."

These separations of duties were apparent to Undefeated directors Lindsay and Martin as they began to work with them. "Ed managed and did so much in terms of the school board," Lindsay recalls. "Obviously that's a tricky thing; we wanted free and unfettered access to the school, and understandably the school board was a little hesitant to allow that to happen. It took a lot of producing work to convince that our intentions were pure and we weren't there to do some sort of exposé. We were there to just observe and show the truth of all these kids--to really tell the kids' story and the story of the football team. From a producer's standpoint, Ed had so much more knowledge and experience in that--especially on the legal side. I don't see how we could have ever pulled that off without him.

 "In terms of the actual film, Seth in particular, would give us story notes and perspective," Lindsay continues. "TJ and I shot the film, we did the sound for the film, we directed the film, and we edited the film. So by the time we were in post-production, you really want to have an editor not involved in the production to give you some perspective. To have Seth come in with a filmmaker's eye and say, 'I would consider moving this over here,' or 'You've got this scene. Don't work on it anymore. Trust me.' And Ed, with his story and football knowledge, to come in and say, 'You got it. That's right.' Especially as a football fan and former football player, we knew we had gotten a game right when Ed reacted to it."

Directors TJ Martin (left) and Dan Lindsay

The film hits home for Cunningham in many ways. "It is a little hypocritical, because I still do make a living covering college football for ESPN, to say that I'm sour about the business of football. I still think it's a great game, but it has major, major problems. I think the business model around college football is completely broken. I think the NFL is a money-making machine and is a pretty smart business. But for the players, it just stops being fun. It's almost like filmmaking; sometimes it's just about the business. The thing about filmmaking is that you can still be very artistic and unrestrained if you set up your career properly, or if you have some success that gives you that ability, but with football, you're playing for the man. I did get sick of the game by the time I left.

 "I think the film is going to resonate with the players," Cunningham adds. "You'd have to look at the statistics, but I think a good number of the players in both college football and those who end up playing for the NFL have some similarities to the guys in Undefeated--a lot of single-parent homes, a lot of first-family members going to college, many things like that. Beyond that, though, for a lot of these young people, their hopes and dreams of an NFL career, the percentages are so small. What the film does a good job in showing is, yes, we need to push to keep sports in our schools, push to keep sports well funded and well coached, and make sure we're hiring the right people to do it. Because it's part of the whole experience. It's a part of growing up. And that's the conversation I'd like to see. Yeah, we should keep playing these sports. It's given me the life I have, but it is also important to the things that relate to [being] off the field. The truth is, not many people make it, but you also have the opportunity to use those skills in other parts of your life--before you have to step out into the real world."

Undefeated opens February 17 in theaters around the country, through The Weinstein Company.

Ron Deutsch recently co-wrote the documentary OK, Buckaroos!, on the life of singer Jerry Jeff Walker. Interviews he did with shlockmeisters Herschell Gordon Lewis and David Friedman in 1980 were released for the first time as extras on the American Grindhouse DVD last July. He also teaches cooking classes in Austin, Texas, and writes for The Criterion Collection as Chef du Cinema, pairing films and food.

Over the next few weeks, we at IDA will be introducing our community to the films that have been honored by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences with an Oscar® nomination. This piece was originally published in conjunction with DocuWeeks in the August issue of Documentary magazine online. You can see Hell and Back Again at DocuDay LA on Saturday, February 25 at the Writers Guild of America Theater, with filmmaker Danfung Dennis in person.

Synopsis: From his embed with US Marines Echo Company in Afghanistan, photojournalist and filmmaker Danfung Dennis reveals the devastating impact a Taliban machine-gun bullet has on the life of 25-year-old Sergeant Nathan Harris. The film seamlessly transitions from stunning war reportage to an intimate, visceral portrait of one man's personal struggle at home in North Carolina, where Harris confronts the physical and emotional difficulties of re-adjusting to civilian life with the love and support of his wife, Ashley. Masterfully contrasting the intensity of the frontline with the unsettling normalcy of home, Hell and Back Again lays bare the true cost of war.

IDA: How did you get started in documentary filmmaking?

Darfung Dennis: I have been covering the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan for many years as a still photographer for newspapers and magazines. Despite widespread publication of my pictures, I found that I was unable to convey the brutal realities on the ground. The public was numb to these same images of war, and the traditional media outlets were not committed to their coverage of the conflicts.

This drove me to explore the medium of the moving image. For some time, I was simply making pictures with movement. It was a natural progression, and I'm still very much learning how to combine photojournalism with the tradition and narrative structure of filmmaking.

I needed new tools, so I built customized camera rigs using still cameras that allow me to follow the same methods and ethics of being a photographer--purely being an observer and letting events unfold in front of the lens--while building sequences and anticipating the next event in the story.

IDA: What inspired you to make Hell and Back Again? How did your vision for the film change over the course of the pre-production, production and post-production processes?

DD: Hell and Back Again is the first feature film to be entirely shot on a highly customized digital SLR camera rig, the Canon 5D Mark II. Canon most likely did not intend people to shoot feature films on it, and certainly nobody could have envisaged the results this rig would achieve on the frontlines.

I didn't go to Afghanistan with the intention to make a film. I had no script, no shot list, no financing. I simply had body armor, a backpack and a camera to try to convey what was happening there as honestly and truthfully as I could. The story only began to emerge after many trips to different provinces with various units, and when I learned of a major offensive that was going to take place in the Helmand River Valley. Accredited as a New York Times photographer, I was dropped deep into enemy territory with the US Marines Echo Company, 2nd Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment to seize a key objective.

Within a few hours of landing, we were surrounded by Taliban insurgents and attacked from all sides. The fighting focused on a pile of rubble that became known as Machine Gun Hill.

Despite the raging battle and 130-degree heat, a Marine handed me his last bottle of water. This is how I first met Nathan. By the end of the first day, one Marine was dead, and a countless number had collapsed from heat exhaustion. Cut off and isolated, I spent the night in a one-room mud compound, with a Marine kneeling at the door with his weapon raised in case of an attack.

Over the next days and weeks, I followed Nathan as he led the 2nd Platoon deeper into the insurgent stronghold. We came to trust each other, as we ate the same instant meals, slept in the same dust and endured the same difficult experiences. I watched his growing frustration turn to desperation as he lost buddies during a protracted and violent fight with a ghostlike enemy who was invisible, yet everywhere.

Six months into his tour, and days away from rotating out, Nathan was shot in the hip during an ambush. He nearly bled to death before he was medivaced out and underwent blood transfusions and multiple surgeries.

I rejoined Nathan when he returned to his hometown of Yadkinville, North Carolina. He was in incredible pain and distress from having left his men behind. He introduced me to his friends and family by saying, "This guy was with me over there." With that, I was accepted into a rural, conservative, Baptist community, and I essentially lived with him and his wife, Ashley.

The story naturally became less about counter-insurgency doctrine as I began to document Nathan's most difficult mission: his struggle to transition back into a community that was completely disconnected from his experience; and his transformation from a warrior and leader to a man who required help with even the smallest daily tasks, while clinging to the dream that one day he would rejoin his men in combat.

As a witness to the difficult struggles of just one Marine, I feel I have a responsibility to share Nathan's story and help shake people from their indifference to a long war.

IDA: What were some of the challenges and obstacles in making this film, and how did you overcome them?

DD: As I built a custom camera system, I had significant technical hurdles to overcome.

The first problem is with audio. I used a Sennheiser ME-66 shotgun mic and G2 wireless system running into a Beachtek DXA-2s (I've since upgraded to a Juicedlink DT-454), which converts professional XLR mics into a mini-jack suitable for the 5D. I built custom aluminum "wings" to hold this audio setup.

The second problem is stabilization. The design of the Canon 5D Mark II makes hand-held video shooting difficult. I mounted my whole system onto a Glidecam 2000 HD with custom rubber pads on the mount and a foam earplug to suppress the vibration of the lens. The rig is very heavy and it took about two months to get my arm strong enough to shoot extended shots. I cut up a Glidecam Body Pod to make it fit with my body armor and used it to rest my arm when I was not shooting.

To achieve a cinematic look when shooting in bright daylight, I shot at f2.8 at 1/60th or slower, which requires a drastic amount of reduction of light that hits the sensor. I used a Singh Ray Variable ND filter. While the filter can reduce the amount of light by two to eight stops, I had serious problems with uneven coverage, so part of my frame would be darker than others. I have tried Fader ND filters, but also have the same problem.

Another issue is that all focus must be done manually after recording begins. The only way to address this was a lot of practice racking focus. I was not able to rack focus when running, so I often had to try to stay the same distance from my subject to keep them in focus. The most frustrating problem was that the camera would overheat after about 15 minutes of continuous shooting in 120-degree heat. I had no option other than to turn it off and let it cool. I did not have a spare body.

IDA:  As you've screened Hell and Back Again--whether on the festival circuit, or in screening rooms, or in living rooms--how have audiences reacted to the film? What has been most surprising or unexpected about their reactions?

DD: Showing the film to main characters of the film, Nathan and Ashley Harris, was an emotional experience. They had hardly seen any footage up to that point and had completely trusted me to tell their story. They laughed and they cried as they watched themselves for the first time on a large screen. What they thought of the film was more important to me than what anyone else thought. When it finished and the lights came on, they looked at each other and said over and over again, "It was perfect."

IDA: What docs or docmakers have served as inspirations for you?

DD: I recently learned a photographer friend was severely wounded after stepping on a mine in southern Afghanistan. He lost both his legs and is in critical condition.

I'm flooded by feelings of rage, sadness, helplessness and isolation. I think of my friends and colleagues who have lost their lives while doing their job. It all seems utterly senseless.

Unless you have a personal connection, the war in Afghanistan is an abstraction. After nearly ten years since the initial invasion, the daily bombings and ongoing violence have become mundane, almost ordinary. It is tempting to become indifferent to the horror and pain. It is much easier to look away from the victims. It is much easier to lead a life without rude interruptions from complex insurgencies in distant lands. But it is when we take this easier path, the suffering becomes of no consequence and therefore meaningless. The anguish becomes invisible, an abstraction. It is when society becomes numb to inhumanity; horror is allowed to spread in darkness.

Visual imagery can be a powerful medium for truth. The images of napalmed girls screaming, by Nick Ut; the street execution of a Vietcong prisoner, by Eddie Adams; the shell-shocked soldier, by Don McCullin--these iconic images have burned into our collective consciousness as reminders of war's consequences.

But this visual language is dying. The traditional outlets are collapsing. In the midst of this upheaval, we must invent a new language. I am attempting to combine the power of the still image with advanced technology to change the vernacular of photojournalism and filmmaking. Instead of opening a window to glimpse another world, I am attempting to bring the viewer into that world. I believe shared experiences will ultimately build a common humanity.

Through my work I hope to shake people from their indifference to war, and to bridge the disconnect between the realities on the ground and the public consciousness at home. By bearing witness and shedding light on another's pain and despair, I am trying to invoke our humanity and a response to act. Is it possible that war is an archaic and primitive human behavior that society is capable of advancing past? Is it possible that the combination of photojournalism, filmmaking and technology can plead for peace and contribute to this future?

It is these possibilities that motivate us to risk life and limb.

Hell and Back Again is screening at DocuDay LA at the Writers Guild of America Theater and at DocuDay NY at the Paley Center for Media as part of IDA's program of 2012 Oscar®-nominated films.

Learn more about Hell and Back Again at the film's website.

Over the next few weeks, we at IDA will be introducing our community to the films that have been honored by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences with an Oscar® nomination. This piece was originally published in the December issue of Documentary magazine online.

As one of the leading representatives of New German Film, Wim Wenders ranks among the most experimental directors in world cinema. Armed with a rigorous education in an eclectic range of pursuits--medicine, painting, engraving, photography, philosophy and rock 'n' roll--he embraced the New American Underground in the style of Warhol, and thereafter evolved his trademark unconventionality.

The approach of an affectionate observer persists throughout his oeuvre, curious to exhibit each layered wonder of the striated worlds that surround us, with the overwhelming power of unconditional love rooted as a quoin stone of his work. In Wings of Desire (1987) and Faraway, So Close! (1993), he rendered a cinematic fairytale; Paris, Texas (1984), an existential road movie; The Million Dollar Hotel (2000), a tragicomic tale of friendship and betrayal, based in Los Angeles; Notebooks on Cities and Clothes (1989), an exploration of avant-garde fashion designer Yohji Yamamoto's singular artistry; Willie Nelson at Teatro (1989), a concert film; Buena Vista Social Club (1999), the profound interplay of music and musicians; and If Buildings Could Talk (2010), a 3D video installation that aspired to show just that.

In Pina (2011), Wenders' evident reverence and tenderness for the eponymous subject is affecting: "Until now, movement as such had never touched me," he admitted, in a tribute that delivered in Frankfurt in 2008 when Bausch was honored with the Goethe Prize. "I always regarded it as a given. One just moves. Everything moves. Only through Pina's TanzTheater have I learned to value movements, gestures, attitudes, behavior, body language--and through her work learned to respect them. What treasure lies within our bodies, to be able to express itself without words, and how many stories can be told without saying a single sentence?" 

Wenders responded to our questions via e-mail, as he was flying back to Europe from Los Angeles.

Documentary: Pina Bausch once said, "Dance, dance, otherwise we are lost." Perhaps you would expand upon this quote? 

Wim Wenders: Pina really meant this literally. For her, dancing was actually an answer to all hardships and adversities of life. And once you enter Pina's world, you can share this perspective, even if you have nothing to do with dance. Her art has an incredibly positive energy and healing power. That comes across in a most emotional way in our film, too, as I can say now after having watched it over and over again with audiences all over the world.

D:  Albeit being an artist yourself with esoterism as your hallmark, what were the challenges of making a documentary about Pina, a fellow artist, with the admirable objective of doing full service to her work?

WW: You will allow me to disagree a bit with that stamp of being "esoteric." Films like Buena Vista Social Club, Wings of Desire or Paris, Texas have found mainstream audiences. Then again, I know what you mean. Being solidly "independent" might, in fact, have become an almost esoteric calling.

Pina is in fact, a tribute to the work of the great German choreographer, and does everything in the book to do justice to her work and make it appear as beautiful as possible. Well, we didn't have to embellish it; we just had to show it like what it actually was--full of magic, surprise and contagious energy. In order to do so, I really had to step back and put everything, all our efforts, in the service of Pina's art. Which is one of many possible documentary approaches, and maybe the one I am most attracted to. Buena Vista Social Club, for instance, was carried by a similar method and desire: to give access to as many people as possible to the boundless joy and the purity of these old Cuban musicians, and let the movie be a direct connection, not something that gets in the way and pulls attention to itself.

The main challenge in Pina was certainly the use of a new technology, 3D. That had not been tried out in a live-action shoot as ours, especially as we were doing our film in the infancy of the new medium, and basically had to find out everything about it from scratch. (Which also meant making our own mistakes.) Then again, we would not have done the film without 3D. Pina Bausch and I, we had looked for years and years for an appropriate language to bring dance to the screen, and were convinced that 3D finally was the answer to that long quest.

D: How did shooting in 3D transform what you wished to achieve in this elegy?

WW: In our case, 3D had been the condition for making the film. We really needed it. It gave us access to space, and that seemed to be a condition to really be with the dancers, in their own element. And the result surpassed all our hopes. I had a hunch that 3D and dance would have this affinity to each other, and would bring out the best in each other. But 3D not only delivered "space" and "depth"--both so important for the perception of dance--but the medium also gave us "volume," which was an unexpected additional enhancement. Bodies were round, no longer cut-outs or surfaces. The bodies of our dancers really had a different presence than you ever saw bodies emanate on the screen. This way, Pina Bausch's art became so much more physical, so much more immediate. As a spectator, you could almost touch these dancers. Their bodies are there in a new way, at least for a documentary film.

D: What was the process of rethinking the project due to her tragic passing in 2009?  Did your approach alter?

WW: I was so shocked by her sudden passing, I immediately canceled the project. It seemed unimaginable to continue it. Pina and I had dreamed of it for too long together to think of continuing it alone now.

The decisive force in jumpstarting the film after all, two months later, was the dancers. They made me understand that not making the film was the wrong decision, and not in Pina's interest. They had decided together to fulfill all the obligations for touring and performances all over the world that the company had agreed to under Pina. (And they still do.) We could obviously no longer make the film with Pina, but together we could do a film for Pina. In order to do so, we had to let go of the entire concept that Pina and I had developed together over a long period of time. We actually made a very different film together, the dancers and I. It became a journey into Pina's universe, an homage to her. I didn't want it to become a film for "insiders," though, for people who already knew Pina's work and loved it. I made the film with those people in mind who never had a chance to see any of Pina's pieces and who had no particular affinity to dance. I was one of those myself, before I got to know Pina...

D: Berlin and Cuba have featured as primary hubs for two of your previous films. In this documentary, the locum of creation within one's soul appears to be the site of focus, offering the inspirational as nigh-on tangible. Was that the goal?

WW: You could formulate it like that. My own words would be a bit less high-flying, though. I wanted to do justice do somebody else's work and vision, and open that up to an audience where even dance--inexperienced or untrained eyes would see and understand enough to be emotionally touched.

 D: Can you speak to the absurdist influence, via Beckett and Ionesco, for example, on her work?  

WW: Pina's dance theater is inspired by lots of things that Pina was exposed to in the dance and theater world. But most of all, Pina was inspired by things she experienced directly, by life itself. She was the most ardent observer of contemporary life I ever encountered, and that was the main source of her influence. Pina could watch for hours and hours, insatiably.

D: Did this affect how you choreographed the editing of the project?

WW: If any, I choreographed my cameras in response to Pina's choreography. The editing process was a way to discover a logical and emotional path through the immense wealth of material we had shot over the course of one year. As in many documentaries, we had to find the narrative thread in the editing room.

D: Reviewers have cited this documentary as being "exhilarating," "unpredictable," "ravishing," "wondrous," "thrilling."  My sense is that those sentiments mirror the essence of its subject, too. Do you agree?

WW: Pina is certainly like nothing I ever did before. And those words you quoted might describe very well our feelings in the course of making the film. As for the question if these expressions meet the essence of the movie, I'm going to have to leave this to the critics.

D: There was a delicacy in how Pina exerted her influence. Her legendary status appears to have come as much from how she encouraged her acolytes to access the creativity within themselves as what she taught them directly. Your interviews with her Tanztheater Wuppertal dancers displayed their appreciation of her distinctiveness by showing their physical responses with voiceovers. How did you consistently capture such heartfelt responses? 

WW: For the dancers, making this film was a very important thing in their lives. None of them had been able to say goodbye to Pina Bausch, and some had spent their entire professional lives with her--10, 20, even 30 years. Our shoot was in many ways a process that helped them--well, all of us--to come to terms with the loss, and the grief. The film became our goodbye, our thank you to Pina. Her spirit was extremely present, every day. That's what the film still radiates.

D: To create an immersive experience for the viewer, plunging them into both the process and prowess of Bausch, as interpreted by her devotees, is no mean feat. As with her work, you created interior and exterior space, using visual textures of soil and water, "a space where we can meet each other."  Would you share one of your experimental techniques?

WW: The technique, if any, consisted in being as truthful as possible to Pina's work, and also, to make the optimal use of the new language, 3D, for it. One always had to find the ideal POV in order to show the work in the best possible angle, so people could really see the "architecture" of her choreography and the spirit of Pina's work in a privileged way.

D: You manage to render the intensity of images with profound emotional vibrancy.  How did you develop this documentary to show and incorporate, with such inventive clarity, the sensual, physically flirtatious--by turns rigorous and playful, mesmeric and visually stunning-- elements of each collaborative piece?

WW: You see, I was always myself most impressed by what I saw, and by what Pina Bausch showed me (through her pieces that we filmed) and by what the dancers offered me (through her personal contributions and their "danced answers" to my questions about Pina). A little bit like with Buena Vista Social Club, where I was utterly moved and taken by the music of these old Cuban gentlemen, I was mesmerized in the course of Pina by the continuous flow of beauty and the truth in front of my cameras. Doing them justice, without imposing myself--that was the constant task, for each and every shot.

D: As a director, apart from the personal, what was it about this project that was particularly distinct for you? Did you learn anything new? 

WW: I learned more than in any other film before. Both worlds, dance as well as 3D, were new to me. One amazing thing, certainly, was how far one can go without words. But the most humbling lesson: As a film director (and maybe I can speak for my entire profession), as film directors we think we know a lot about "body language." After all, we have actors in front of our cameras, sometimes even famous ones, and we tell them what to do. Move this way, move that way, do such and such gesture. After all, the actor's "presence" in front of the camera is his (or her) body language. So us directors, we fancy ourselves as knowledgeable, maybe even as specialists in that field. And then you see somebody like Pina Bausch at work, see how differently she deals with that body language, how rich her vocabulary is, how complex her grammar, and then you realize: You are nothing but an illiterate in this field, at most a beginner, but not more. That is humbling, and a great lesson.

Pina opens December 23 in New York and January 14 in Los Angeles, through Sundance Selects.

Denise O'Kelly is a writer and editor living in Santa Monica.

Editor's Note: The Interrupters, from Steve James and Alex Kotlowitz, airs February 14 on PBS' Frontline. What follows is an interview with Steve James that was published last August in conjunction with the film theatrical premiere through The Cinema Guild.

A portrait of calculated resilience and rebirth amid struggles of urban turbulence, Steve James and Alex Kotlowitz's The Interrupters indelibly humanizes the gang war-zone of Chicago's south and west sides. The documentary, based on a New York Times Magazine article by Kotlowitz, follows a collection of anti-violence agents from the organization CeaseFire. We watch as they patrol the streets to assuage volatile situations and forge relationships with grudge-holding gang members in an effort to break the cycle of revenge and death. Their mission is, indeed, to "interrupt" the trend of violence in inner-city Chicago at both micro and macro levels.

Many of the Interrupters are ex-convicts and gang members themselves--the remarkable Ameena Matthews is the scion of local legend Jeff Fort, and both Cobe Williams and Eddie Bocanegra have done long stints in prison for serious crimes. Forming an expository foundation with this triad of subjects in particular, James and Kotlowitz explore both the formula of urban fights and how it can be peacefully balanced, as well the narrative of trauma composed by continual exposure to violence.

We spoke to director/producer/cinematographer/editor Steve James (Hoop Dreams, Stevie) about his experiences shooting and editing the film, and about the filmmakers' own roles as "interrupters" in the real-life situations they were attempting to capture and organize into a coherent story.

Documentary: Early on the film, CeaseFire director Tio Hardiman says that in order to be truly effective, each "interrupter" has to become a part of the world whose violence he or she is attempting to ameliorate. He describes it as "immersing yourself in the bullshit." To what extent did you and Alex have to immerse yourself in the bullshit?

Steve James: I've made a number of different kinds of films over the years, but the ones I'm most proud of are the ones that really involve immersion into people's lives over a period of time. In the case of The Interrupters, the immersion was really into communities, and in particular Englewood [a rough neighborhood on Chicago's South Side], which is where Ameena and Cobe do most of their work.

Both Alex and I live in Oak Park, the first due west suburb outside of the city. Being local made this film possible. We were on call just like the Interrupters. If there was a situation that the Interrupters thought would be workable for us, they'd call us. Sometimes those calls would come pretty late at night, so we had to be ready. That's another reason that for me to shoot this film--not just direct--made sense. It kept us small. It was really just me, Alex and Zak Piper, who did sound and acted as co-producer. I had the camera gear at my home and when I'd get a call I'd just leap into action.

D: You say that you had to immerse yourself into people's lives, and I imagine that getting them "comfortable" was crucial to that process, especially since you were dealing with ex-convicts who have a lot to hide. And yet the film overflows with loaded candor.

SJ: Well, it takes a while. It took us a while to get Ameena to that place of openness especially. We had to chase her a little bit. All of our meetings with her were by appointment at first. She called Alex and I her "stalkers." [laughs] But she was a crucial piece of the CeaseFire story--one of the few women Interrupters, the daughter of Jeff Fort, and a charismatic presence. And once she let us accompany her on mediations, she saw that we were respectful and knew when to step back and that it wasn't going to compromise the work she did. It was a real victory of trust to get her to open up to us.

With Cobe it was a completely different process. He was very outgoing, but there are still things that Cobe has not told us about his criminal past--things that he will never tell us. We had a hard time getting him to say the word "bullets" in reference to a buddy of his. "I don't want to hang him out there," he explained to us. But we understand that about all three of our main subjects. There was a degree that you needed to know about their past to make the film work and a degree that you as a viewer don't have a right to know.

D: It's interesting how language can be a weapon in this landscape. While I was typing up the questions for this interview, I found myself using the verb "shoot" a lot in reference to the camera, and it made me really uncomfortable. There's definitely a sense in which the camera becomes a weapon here, too--one that's "interrupting" the action of real life.

SJ: You know, the camera adds a presence. In most situations, what we're trying to do is demystify our presence until it's not that big of a deal. We don't shoot from across the street. You can tell from the movie--I'm in pretty close. I think that's always better than seeming like you're at remove and eavesdropping. There are certain filmmakers--like Frederick Wiseman, who gets great results--who simply document and do their best to be as low-key and nonexistent, in a sense, as possible. I don't take that approach. There are situations where it's actually your duty as a director to intervene and make something more authentic happen. I don't think it compromises any "essential truth"; it might even bring it out.

When we were first out with Cobe, he tended to start interviewing people he would meet out in the streets on our behalf. He was trying to give us what he thought we wanted, but he was engaging in conversations that were clearly not authentic. So we had to pull him aside and say "Cobe...this isn't the way you talk to people. So stop doing that. Just be you. And if we have a question, we'll ask."

D: It's fascinating how you fashioned that "essential truth" in the editing room, too. I was struck by how the film seemed to shuttle so effortlessly between a narrative voice and a more essayistic one. There are scenes that incisively represent the Interrupters' methods and break down the "formula" of gang violence for us interspersed among more personal content, so the emotional moments have an almost didactic context. Was that balance consciously being made in the editing room, or was it inherent in the material?

SJ: I think that this subject matter leant itself to that balance. The mediations were instructive in various ways, and not just instructive of the Interrupters' approach. There were times when we wanted to audience to plunge in and be right there on the edge of their seats, and at other times we wanted them to be at some remove and be more analytical about what was happening. Because the goal ultimately was not to just immerse the audience in these neighborhoods and these lives, but to have them think deeply about the violence and what brings people to that place, and what can be done about it. But we didn't want to do it with experts. We didn't want to do it with charts and graphs and animation.

D: I think that balance also creates a tense dichotomy of permanence and change--the sense that we're watching characters go about their daily, albeit remarkable, lives, but also watching them transform. And we can extrapolate this to the film's environment--the Interrupters are doing enormous amounts of good, but Chicago remains a violent place, as the funereal motif to which you continually return proves.

SJ: My co-editor, Aaron Wickenden, and I--as well as Alex and Zak, watching cuts and weighing in--really wanted the film to distill the larger experience that we had making it. We wanted people to go on the same journey that we went on. It was conscious that we included a mediation early in the film that was really chaotic. But as the film evolved we wanted to connect you with these people in a deeper way so you could see that ultimately, they don't want to be violent. I mean, they really don't want to be violent. I think that's where the hopefulness comes from.

And along with the hopefulness, we wanted at the end for you to be thinking about where does this all lead. Capricia, the troubled girl who Ameena mentors, does wind up getting her high school degree, but she violates her parole and goes back to prison. She got out after we completed filming. Vanessa, the little girl who held her brother as he died, gets into a fight for the first time in her life and gets suspended in the movie. We never wanted you to forget that individually and socially there's much work to be done.

The Interrupters opens August 12 in Chicago and London, then August 26 in Los Angeles and other cities. Cinema Guild is handling US distribution, while Dogwoof is handling the UK market.

Joseph Lon Lanthier is a cultural critic currently based in Chicago.  

Over the next few weeks, we at IDA will be introducing our community to the films that have been honored by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences with an Oscar® nomination. This piece was originally published in the Winter issue of Documentary magazine.

Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory, the newest film in the Paradise Lost series about the trial, conviction, sentencing and incarceration--and, ultimately, release--of Jason Baldwin, Damien Echols and Jessie Misskelley Jr. for the 1993 murders of three children in West Memphis, Arkansas, will air January 12, 2012, on HBO. The film was originally set to broadcast in November 2011, but the case took an unexpected turn when the so-called West Memphis Three were freed on August 19, 2011, after serving 18 years for a crime they maintain they did not commit. This is a complicated case, but what is certain is that the Paradise Lost series, by filmmakers Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky, has played a crucial role in keeping the case in the public eye and helping the defendants to be released from prison. "Bruce, Joe, Jonathan [Silberberg, producer of Paradise Lost 3] and everybody are the heroes in this," says Baldwin. "They opened the door for everybody else to stand up and fight for this case."

If you'd asked Berlinger 20 years ago--before the Paradise Lost series--about the role of advocacy in filmmaking, he would have said that he's a filmmaker first, a journalist second, and, at best, an incidental advocate.

Paradise Lost has changed all that.

The story of Paradise Lost began in 1993, when Berlinger and Sinofsky received a clipping from Sheila Nevins at HBO about three eight-year-old boys who had been raped and brutally murdered as part of a satanic cult ritual, and three teenagers who had been arrested in connection with the crime. "Back in the days of news clippings," recalls Berlinger, "this story had been picked up by the news wire and was buried somewhere in the back of The New York Times." Nevins thought this might make a compelling story and she approached the filmmakers, who had recently completed Brothers Keeper, about the trial of an elderly farmer accused of murdering his brother. Berlinger and Sinofsky flew to West Memphis, Arkansas, intending to film a cinema vérité portrayal of disaffected youth and the motivation to commit such a heinous crime.

Berlinger and Sinofsky began the project thinking that the suspects were guilty. But in the nearly eight months they spent filming in the community before the trial began, they were convinced that the Arkansas authorities were railroading three innocent teenagers.

The media played a significant role in how the three suspects were perceived: They were portrayed as devil worshippers who dressed in black, had long hair and listened to hard rock music. At the time, a local newspaper printed a transcription of Misskelley's confession to the murders, never mentioning the leading questions, coercion and misconduct involved in securing that confession. The jury pool was polluted.

Berlinger recalls that when Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills was released in 1996, the filmmakers were excited because they thought the film was going to "blow the case out of the water," says Berlinger. "We thought it was going to do for the West Memphis Three what Errol Morris and The Thin Blue Line did for Randall Dale Adams."

But it didn't.

In fact, the filmmakers were frustrated that discussion about the film never transitioned from the entertainment pages to the editorial pages. Although Paradise Lost was a popular and critical success--premiering at Sundance, garnering a Primetime Emmy Award and a Peabody Award, and generating international support for the West Memphis Three--Baldwin, Echols and Misskelley were still languishing in prison (Echols had been sentenced to death by lethal injection; his co-defendants were serving life sentences.).

"I was literally haunted by the case," says Berlinger, who became a father while making Paradise Lost. "With every passing stage of life, such as my child's first steps, the first day of kindergarten, etc., I would think, ‘These guys are still rotting in prison.'"

So, says Berlinger, it was an obvious choice to make the second film. Paradise Lost 2: Revelations was shot in 1998 and1999 and released in 2000, and whereas the filmmakers got complete access and full participation from both sides of the case for the first film, they were barred, along with all media camerapeople, from filming in the courtroom, and a number of individuals refused to be part of the second film. With little in the way of an actual story, Berlinger and Sinofsky focused their attention on Mark Byers, the brash, outspoken stepfather of one of the victims. Byers had become a person of interest among West Memphis Three supporters. The prosecutors were convinced they had done due diligence and had convicted the right people, but Paradise Lost had raised questions, convincing many people that the defendants were innocent and the real killer was still out there. In Paradise Lost 2, Byers takes and passes a lie detector test.

Looking back on Paradise Lost 2, Berlinger says that the film was driven more by advocacy than by storytelling or filmmaking aesthetic, and the film suffers as a result.

Had there not been a desire to continue shining a light on the case, the film wouldn't have been made.

Berlinger admits that he was "banging people over the head with a point of view," and maintains that the first film was so persuasive because it allowed people to reach their own conclusions. As a result the case attracted powerful grassroots and celebrity support, which in turn inspired WM3.org, a fundraising mechanism for the West Memphis Three.

In 2003, after completing another project, Metallica: Some Kind of Monster, Berlinger and Sinofsky started talking about making Paradise Lost 3. Production began in 2004 and long stretches of time would go by without much happening. But financial backing from such celebrities as Eddie Vedder, Johnny Depp, Natalie Maines and Peter Jackson enabled the defendants and their legal team to continue seeking evidence. In fact, it was after Jackson saw Paradise Lost in 2005 that he got involved with the case and began funding both forensic tests and legal counsel. Subsequently, sophisticated examination of DNA furnished by Baldwin, Echols and Misskelley ruled out their connection to any of the victims or the crime scene.

This was a turning point in the case.

The results of the DNA tests were made public in 2007, at which point Mark Byers changed his mind and publicly said he believed the defendants were innocent.

The DNA tests also revealed that Terry Hobbs, the stepfather of another one of the victims, could possibly be connected to the crime scene. "Mark Byers changed his opinion in 2007 because of DNA, but now you'll see he's very quick to point at another stepfather," says Berlinger, adding this is something people should ponder in the third film.

Another turning point in the case came in late 2010, when the Arkansas Supreme Court ruled for the first time that the West Memphis Three were entitled to a new evidentiary hearing, at which time new evidence, including the DNA tests, would be admissible. This hearing was set to take place in December 2011.

This was a historic moment--and, as it turned out, the right time to release Paradise Lost 3. HBO would broadcast the film in November 2011, just before the evidentiary hearing, to call attention to the case. And the prosecution was running scared.

"I believe they [the State of Arkansas] know we're innocent," says Baldwin. "They knew the films recorded things accurately and presented [them] in a way that wasn't slanderous or untrue. They knew that because of the film, we would get a fair jury pool--or that the possibility was there. We definitely had better attorneys that weren't afraid to fight back and rock the boat. The State knew that with the new film, all our alibis and all the forensic evidence, we would win."

The filmmakers got ready to finish Paradise Lost 3.

All along, the challenge had been to find the story, come up with a dramatic arc and condense 18 years into two hours. Additionally, they had to find a way to hook two disparate audiences--those who had never seen the other films, and those who were already deeply involved in the case.

This third film retells essential details stated in the previous films, but also includes never-before-seen outtake footage. Berlinger explains, "You're looking at old information through new eyes with the 18-year passage of time." The old 16mm outtakes "have scratch marks and grease pencil markings," the legacy of editing Paradise Lost on a Steenbeck. Berlinger recounts that it was an enormous challenge to go back and forth in time, but the grainy footage turned out to be a great device for helping people know what time period they are watching.

Berlinger affirms that Paradise Lost 3 has a "tremendous level of filmmaking maturity," combining storytelling and advocacy. "If you've never seen any of the films, it's a riveting, real-life, hugely dramatic film. But it was born out of advocacy, and the main purpose was to continue to help these guys."

In August 2011, the filmmakers were in the sound mix when they got a call--off the record--that something huge was going to happen and they should get down to Arkansas by Friday of that week. "It's as big as it gets," they were told. And on Friday, August 19, the West Memphis Three were freed ahead of the proposed evidentiary hearing scheduled for December.

This obviously called for a new ending to Paradise Lost 3. Throughout the editing process, Berlinger worked intensively with editor Alyse Spiegel (who also edited his 2009 film Crude). Paradise Lost 3 originally ended on a positive note, highlighting the upcoming evidentiary hearing. Title cards explained that this was the last chance for Damien Echols, who was on death row, to appeal his case. The new ending is 12 minutes long and covers the release of the West Memphis Three. In truth, the end is bittersweet, as the defendants agreed to be released under the Alford Plea, a rarely used law under which they had to "plead guilty while maintaining their innocence"-which flies in the face of the precepts of justice.

"I think the film is the catalyst to what saved Damien's life," says Baldwin, who has publicly stated that he did not want to take the Alford plea, but did so to help Echols. "If it weren't for the films and all the investigations that came after--as unfair as the deal was--our release still came about because of [the films]."

Will there be a Paradise Lost 4? Berlinger says probably not. "Making these films was a very emotionally draining, dark, sad, but ultimately triumphant experience. I feel like it's the end of an era, and emotionally it's time to move on." But, if Sheila Nevins believes there's a film, the filmmakers won't close the door on the opportunity.

Berlinger says Paradise Lost 4 could be about one of two things: adjustment to life out of prison, which he is not interested in doing, or finding the real killer. "There's no room for innuendo, so unless we can make a film and say, ‘This is the killer and here's why,' I'm not sure there is a worthy Paradise Lost 4," he says, adding, "Even though the West Memphis Three are out of prison, Arkansas should be embarrassed. We want the West Memphis Three fully exonerated."

Laura Almo is a writer and documentary filmmaker. She teaches video editing at El Camino College in Torrance, CA and is a frequent contributor to Editors Guild Magazine. Almo is on the Los Angeles steering committee of Human Rights Watch and continues to work with the International Center for Transitional Justice. She is contributing editor with Documentary Magazine. Laura Almo can be reached at lauraalmo@mac.com.

Over the next few weeks, we at IDA will be introducing our community to the filmmakers whose work has been honored by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences with an Oscar nomination. This interview was originally published in conjunction with DocuWeeks, IDA's program that presents short and feature length documentaries to appreciative audiences in theatrical runs designed to qualify the films for consideration for the Academy Awards®. We asked the filmmakers to share the stories behind their films--the inspirations, the challenges and obstacles, the goals and objectives, the reactions to their films so far.

Synopsis: Mr. James Armstrong is a rank-and-file "Foot Soldier" and proud proprietor of Armstrong's Barbershop, a cultural and political hub in Birmingham, Alabama, since 1955. Eight-five years-young, he fought for the right to vote while carrying the American flag in the 1965 Bloody Sunday march from Selma to Montgomery. He was the first to integrate his children in the all-white Graymont Elementary School. On the eve of the election of the first African-American president, Mr. Armstrong, the barber of Birmingham, sees his unimaginable dream come true.

IDA: How did you get started in documentary filmmaking?

Robin Fryday: The Barber of Birmingham: Foot Soldier of the Civil Rights Movement is my first documentary film. Prior to this I worked as a still photographer. 

IDA: What inspired you to make The Barber of Birmingham?

RF: Heading into the historical election of 2008, I began thinking about those who brought us to this day, those who had risked their lives and livelihoods for the right to vote, and of the many who were alive to possibly see the nomination of the first African-American presidential candidate. I knew this was the time to capture and record these stories firsthand before it was too late.   

IDA: What were some of the challenges and obstacles in making this film, and how did you overcome them?

RF: We were desperately trying to raise funds to finish the film. My co-director, Gail Dolgin, fought a courageous 10-year battle with breast cancer. Sadly, in 2010 it had metastasized and spread throughout her body. Days before her death, we made the decision to finish the film as a short and submit it to the Sundance Film Festival.  Gail died on October 7, 2010.  Our film was far from completion when Sundance accepted it (from a sample) in December 2010. We had no archival or music rights and needed to raise $100,000 in the five weeks remaining until the Sundance opening to complete post-production. At that time we had less than $1,000 in our bank account. Then the village stepped in. Chicken and Egg Pictures came on as executive producers, and Judith Helfand as co-producer. With their dedication and commitment, as well as a group of filmmakers who had worked with Gail in the past, we were able to raise the money and shepherd the film through the color correction, sound mix and final editing. As we all worked feverishly to polish the film and get it to Sundance on time, we requested an extension of time for completion. We were given one extra day. Miraculously, the film arrived at Sundance on January 11, 2011, meeting their deadline. After five sold-out screenings (one with Robert Redford in attendance), we knew the long hours had been worth it.

IDA: How did your vision for the film change over the course of the pre-production, production and post-production processes?

RF: Gail and I planned on capturing the inauguration of Barack Obama from the viewpoint of the foot soldiers. It would be the ultimate event in the lives of those who had known so much turmoil and risked so much. A busload of 40 foot soldiers was leaving from the Civil Rights Institute in Birmingham and going to Washington, DC. Gail and I made sure Mr. Armstrong was included and bought him warm clothes and food for the trip. He was joyously anticipating the dream of a lifetime. 

The night before the trip, Mr. Armstrong took sick--very sick. With a film crew equally as excited about our bus trip to the inauguration as Gail and I, we faced the decision of whether to go on the trip with the 39 other foot soldiers, or stay with Mr. Armstrong. Gail and I knew immediately that we would stay with Mr. Armstrong and make sure he was taken care of. Little did we know that that decision proved to be a lifesaving one. When we returned to his home that evening to bring him some soup, we found Mr. Armstrong lying in bed barely able to breathe.  He suffered from congestive heart failure and spent the next 10 days in the ICU. As President Obama delivered his Inaugural speech, Gail and I sat on benches in the ICU waiting room, praying and crying. The bus trip to Washington had been the focus of the film. Now we had to reframe the story.

IDA: As you've screened The Barber of Birmingham--whether on the festival circuit, or in screening rooms, or in living rooms--how have audiences reacted to the film? What has been most surprising or unexpected about their reactions?

RF: It has been an incredible and wonderful experience to see the reaction of audiences in a variety of settings. The audiences laugh when they see Mr. Armstrong's car held together by duct tape, they cry when Mr. Armstrong falls sick, and they are angered by the injustices faced by African-Americans in this country. The most surprising has been to see how few people know about the "foot soldiers" of the Civil Rights Movement. We've all heard about the leaders, but little is known about the unsung heroes of the Movement.

IDA: What docs or docmakers have served as inspirations for you?

RF: Shortly before starting work on The Barber, I was very moved and inspired by the documentary Young @ Heart.

The Barber of Birmingham will be screening as a part of DocuDay in both Los Angeles and New York.

For the complete DocuDay 2012 program, click here.

Let the games, parties and office pools begin! The Academy Award nominations are in, and here are the Documentary nods:

Documentary (Feature)

• Hell and Back Again Danfung Dennis and Mike Lerner
• If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front Marshall Curry and Sam Cullman
• Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky
• Pina Wim Wenders and Gian-Piero Ringel
• Undefeated TJ Martin, Dan Lindsay and Richard Middlemas

Documentary (Short Subject)

• The Barber of Birmingham: Foot Soldier of the Civil Rights Movement Robin Fryday and Gail Dolgin
• God Is the Bigger Elvis Rebecca Cammisa and Julie Anderson
• Incident in New Baghdad James Spione
• Saving Face Daniel Junge and Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy
• The Tsunami and the Cherry Blossom Lucy Walker and Kira Carstensen

Hell and Back Again and The Barber of Birmingham: Foot Soldier of the Civil Rights Movement qualified for Academy Award consideration under IDA's DocuWeeks last summer.

Stay tuned for more developments-and come see all the films at DocuDay Los Angeles, February 25 at the Writers Guild Theater, and DocuDay New York, February 25 and 26 at The Paley Center for Media. For more information, click here.

When The Pruitt-Igoe Myth, which tells the story of Pruitt-Igoe, the infamous public housing development built in downtown St. Louis in 1956, earned the ABCNews VideoSource Award for best use of archival footage at the IDA Awards in December, director/producer Chad Freidrichs accomplished a feat that originally wasn't his intention when he conceived the film more than four years ago. "I had no idea that I was going to make an archival documentary, nor did I want to," he admits. "It's costly, time-consuming and it can be challenging to find the materials."  

But as the documentary evolved, archival footage ended up driving the narrative, complemented by interviews with former residents. Rather than going to stock footage houses and the National Archive, where licensing and transferring of materials can be both difficult and costly, Freidrichs went another route: "I bought historical and educational films off eBay and rented them from libraries and incorporated them into the film because it was a source of untapped footage."

The footage from the 1950s, '60s and '70s came after long days of sifting through the archives at the Missouri History Museum in St. Louis, and other archives in St. Louis and Indiana. Not only did Freidrichs find rarely seen archival footage, but he also took on the meticulous process of transferring materials himself. "It was receiving my first lab bill for transferring archival footage to HD that motivated me to learn how to use the telecine," he explains. "I had some major breakthroughs as I learned the process."

The Pruitt-Igoe Myth, which premieres January 20 at the IFC Center in New York City and will roll out to other US cities over the next few months, is a powerful film that deserves the attention and critical acclaim it has received as it's moved through the film festival circuit. But it's also a film that evolved and changed from what Freidrichs had originally envisioned.  

Being from Wentzville, Missouri, a town outside St. Louis, Freidrichs was aware of Pruitt-Igoe and its legacy of failure, but initially it was the architecture of the project that interested him. "I had listened to an audio lecture about the history of the American city and Pruitt-Igoe came up as a failure of modernism," he recalls. "Whereas many believed that architecture had the power to modify the behavior of society, Pruitt-Igoe defied this logic."  

Designed by Minoru Yamasaki, the architect who later designed the World Trade Center, Pruitt-Igoe was once lauded as the model for other types of urban development. Two decades later, all 33 of the 11-story buildings of Pruitt-Igoe were declared unfit for habitation two decades after they were built, and were demolished. The project was considered a failure, and Freidrichs wanted to analyze other factors, such as how public housing was used as a tool of racial segregation, as well as showcase the residents' struggles and successes that had been almost universally ignored. 

The interviews with the former residents of Pruitt-Igoe give the film its heart and power, and balance well with the more scholarly parts of the story. Their recollections of life there are emotionally powerful and serve as the through-line to the film. "When I say we got lucky in this project, I first point to them," Freidrichs maintains. "We had to know how to ask the right questions and edit the interviews, but viewers have really connected to their amazing personal stories."   

Freidrichs didn't begin the interviews until after a year of research, which involved reading numerous academic articles and books. This was around May 2007, and he had just accepted a position as an assistant professor in the Digital Film and Media Department at Stephens College in Columbia, Missouri, where's he's lived and worked for 14 years; he graduated with a degree in English from the University of Missouri in Columbia. His two other feature-length documentaries include Jandek on Crowood, about a Texas musician, and First Impersonator, a look at the world of US presidential look-alikes and the troubled life of John F. Kennedy impersonator Vaughn Meader.

 "We approached the residents with broad questions--what it looked like, what was their family life like--and a lot of the same issues came up," Freidrichs explains. "As the film's narrative changed, I went back to them several times with more specific questions." He beventually chose five out of nine former residents to include in the finished film (along with three scholars).

After funding the film himself, Freidrichs and his wife, Jamie, a co-writer and producer on The Pruitt-Igoe Myth, secured a very sizable grant from The Missouri Arts Council. His childhood friend, Paul Fehler, is also a producer. It was producer Brian Woodman, who has also worked with several film archives around the US, who introduced Freidrichs to the archival process, which dramatically shifted the film 

When he wasn't teaching, Freidrichs was working on the documentary--shooting, doing color correction, cutting in music and writing voiceover and of course becoming what he calls an "editing monk." After their initial cut, he decided to remove the sections on architecture and focus more on the myths and stigma associated with Pruitt-Igoe. The film examines some of the issues that contributed to the ultimate failure of the project, such as the city's poor financial management, where there weren't enough funds to maintain the buildings once erected, along with rent increases, segregation, poverty and crime. 

He also screened a preliminary cut for students in his archival class, which earned him The Century Candle Award, an honor for all the knowledge he has passed on to them. "I learn more from them than they learn from me," he admits. "Through teaching and working on this film, I've really come to appreciate how much story matters. I always figured I'd recognize the story once I got there, but now I'm also much more conscious of the mechanics of generating sympathy for a character and telling the story." He's also enjoyed sharing the filmmaking and film festival process with students.  "In my Intro to Documentary class at Stephens, I've screened many award-winning films, like Hoop Dreams," says Freidrichs. "But to meet the filmmaker, Steven James, at Full Frame, was wonderful. I told my students about this experience."  

A screening at True/False in Columbia and subsequent feedback helped him shave 10 minutes off the film, which made the first 30 minutes so much better, Freidrichs notes. Still, the film was rejected by Sundance, and he experienced what he called, "a bad feeling in my stomach...First Impersonator didn't do anything.  It just kind of fizzled. I started seeing a replay of that and it wasn't good."   

Things started looking up, though, as The Pruitt-Igoe Myth won the Best Feature Documentary Award at the Oxford Film Festival and KCFilm Fest and went on to screen at SilverDocs, Full Frame, Big Sky and the Los Angeles Film Festival, earning critical acclaim along the way. Variety critic Robert Koehler called the film "an uncommonly artful example of film journalism...gloriously musical at times, cut in perfect tempo to Benjamin Balcom's resonantly moody score."  

"I sent Benjamin a lot of the scratch music I had selected while editing, which he said had a very rhythmic sound," Friedrich recalls. "He then recorded those songs to drum tracks, which he used to build the score."  

After its weeklong run in New York, First Run Features, which acquired the film for theatrical, video on demand and home video rights, has scheduled dates in Atlanta and Miami in February, and Chicago in April. "We had several distributors approach us, but First Run works like I would work," Freidrichs maintains. "Being independent, they're always looking for ways to work more efficiently and are budget conscious. Instead of sending out the BluRay production, I'm making it myself."  

The film, which already played the Tivoli, the art house theater in St. Louis, in June and July 2010, will screen in St.Louis at Webster University on March 1, and will also screen at the Missouri Conference on History in Columbia on March 29. Stephens College also plans to host a screening. "March 16 is the 40th anniversary of when the first building of Pruitt-Igoe was imploded," Freidrichs notes. "So that's a significant date for us. Being released wider during the month makes sense, and we're also pushing the educational DVD hard."  

While Freidrichs is already working on a new documentary, and waiting for news about a broadcast premiere, The Priott-Igoe Myth continues reap honors.  On January 6, he received the American Historical Association's prestigious John E. O'Connor Film Award for outstanding interpretation of history, and his film is also nominated for a Cinema Eye Honors Spotlight Award. "To have the experience of nothing happening with my previous documentary allows me to really appreciate the relative success of this film," Freidrichs observes. "It's the process of making the film that motivates me, but I have really enjoyed going to the ceremonies and collecting the awards.  I'm definitely enjoying the ride."

Shelley Gabert, who lived in St. Louis for a decade, regularly covers film and television. Her last article for Documentary profiled 2010 IDA Pioneer Award winners Alan and Susan Raymond.