this week in film and television

I’VE HEARD THE MERMAIDS SINGING

Polly Vandersma (Sheila McCarthy) shares her unique view of the world in I’ve Heard the Mermaids Singing

I’VE HEARD THE MERMAIDS SINGING (Patricia Rozema, 1987)
Metrograph
7 Ludlow St. between Canal & Hester Sts.
Opens Friday, March 11, At Home and In Theater
212-660-0312
nyc.metrograph.com
www.kinolorber.com

“Gosh. You know, sometimes I think my head is like a gas tank. You have to be really careful what you put into it because it might just affect the whole system,” Polly Vandersma (Sheila McCarthy) says in I’ve Heard the Mermaids Singing. “I mean, isn’t life the strangest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Considered one of the best films to ever come out of Canada, I’ve Heard the Mermaids Singing is plenty strange itself. The 1987 comedy is a unique exploration of queer culture and belongs with such 1980s underground fare as Smithereens, Liquid Sky, and Repo Man as well as James McBride’s 1967 David Holzman’s Diary. In her second film, McCarthy stars as the birdlike Polly, a quirky, self-described “unsuccessful career woman” and “gal on the go,” a not-very-good girl Friday who is content being a temporary secretary, the antithesis of the ’80s archetype embodied by Tess McGill, the ambitious thirty-year-old portrayed by Melanie Griffith in Mike Nichols’s 1988 Working Girl.

The story is told in flashback as Polly makes a video about her simple existence, kind of like a precursor to the confessions in MTV’s The Real World but without the self-aggrandizement. Polly lives alone in Toronto, with no friends; now thirty-one, she lost both her parents ten years before. She’s not exactly smart or well rounded and not much of a conversationalist. When gallery curator Gabrielle (Paule Baillargeon) offers her a full-time position, Polly jumps at the chance, ready to immerse herself in the contemporary art world, which she knows nothing about, and Gabrielle’s personal life, which includes the sudden, unexpected return of her old girlfriend, Mary (Ann-Marie MacDonald).

Polly is an aspiring photographer who snaps pictures of people on the street hanging out, playing sports, and falling in love, all activities that seem to evade her. She develops the film in her bathroom, which she has converted into a makeshift darkroom. Meanwhile, she has endearing fantasies of climbing buildings, flying, and walking on water. Her photos and fantasies are in black-and-white, countering the pastel colors of her daily life. When she finds out that Gabrielle is a painter — her canvases literally glow, as if descended from heaven (while evoking the mysterious object in the trunk of the Chevy Malibu in Repo Man) — she becomes obsessed with her mentor’s works as both of them decide to pursue their artistic talents further.

Filmed in Toronto in one month for $275,000, I’ve Heard the Mermaids Singing, winner of the Prix de la Jeunesse at the 1987 Cannes Film Festival, underwent a 4K restoration in 2017 as part of Canada 150, a celebration of the country’s 150th anniversary of its confederation. The title was taken from a line in T. S. Eliot’s poem “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”: “I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. / I do not think that they will sing to me.”

McCarthy won the first of two Genie Awards for Best Actress, the Canadian equivalent of the Oscars, for Mermaids; she would nab the honor again six years later for Diane Kingswood’s The Lotus Eaters. She is mesmerizing as the endlessly eccentric, spikey-red-haired Polly, who is as peculiar and unpredictable as she is charming and endearing; it’s like she’s arrived from another planet, intent on learning what life can be about. Pay close attention to the scene in which Gabrielle and art critic Clive (Richard Monette) discuss a new painting by a gallery artist while Polly eavesdrops; they are actually talking about her potential transformation, even if she doesn’t realize it.

Rozema (Mansfield Park, When Night Is Falling) wrote, directed, edited, and coproduced the film, which features playful cinematography by Douglas Koch and a fab ’80s score by Mark Korven, alongside Ludwig van Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5.

The restored version opens at Metrograph on March 11, with Rozema participating in a Q&A with multidisciplinary artist Laurie Anderson following the 6:30 screening on opening night. “I wanted to make a warm-spirited anti-authority film,” Rozema says in her director’s statement. “But most of all I wanted to make a film with Polly in it, one where she and I get to hear the mermaids singing.” We should consider ourselves fortunate to be able to do the same.

JOHN EARLY SELECTS: MAPS TO THE STARS

Jerome Fontana (Robert Pattinson) and Agatha Weiss (Mia Wasikowska) look to the Hollywood hills in Maps to the Stars

MAPS TO THE STARS (David Cronenberg, 2014)
Metrograph
7 Ludlow St. between Canal & Hester Sts.
Wednesday, March 9, 4:45 and 7:15
Metrograph at Home, March 12-14
www.focusfeatures.com
nyc.metrograph.com

Actor and comedian John Early’s latest selection for Metrograph is an underrated gem. Canadian filmmaker David Cronenberg and American novelist and screenwriter Bruce Wagner, a match made in Hollywood Babylon, paint a savage portrait of celebrity culture in the absolutely incendiary and off-the-charts satire Maps to the Stars. The darkly funny comic drama centers on Agatha Weiss (Mia Wasikowska), a young woman who returns to Hollywood after having been put away for a long time for a dangerous deed, her face and body marked by burns. Befriending limo driver Jerome Fontana (Robert Pattinson), who is an aspiring actor and writer, Agatha gets a job working for disgruntled actress Havana Segrand (Julianne Moore), who is desperate to star in the remake of Stolen Moments, playing the role that made her mother, Clarice Taggart (Sarah Gadon), famous, but Havana fears that according to Hollywood she is much too old. Havana undergoes regular intense physical and psychological therapy to deal with her mommy issues with television healer Stafford Weiss (John Cusack), Agatha’s father, who has banished his daughter from ever contacting the family again. Meanwhile, Agatha’s younger brother, thirteen-year-old child star Benjie Weiss (Evan Bird), is a Bieberesque character fresh out of rehab who is negotiating the sequel to his massive hit, Bad Babysitter, with his very serious stage mom, Cristina (Olivia Williams). Slowly but surely, everyone’s lives intersect in a riot of fame and misfortune, drugs and guns, ghosts and incest.

Havana Segrand (Julianne Moore) screams for success in dazzling collaboration between David Cronenberg and Bruce Wagner

Cronenberg, who has made such cult favorites as Scanners, The Fly, Naked Lunch, and A History of Violence, and the L.A.-based Wagner, author of such stinging novels as I’ll Let You Go, Still Holding, The Empty Chair, and I’m Losing You, which he also turned into a film, leave nothing and no one unscathed in this thoroughly brutal depiction of Hollywood as a haunted La La Land of dreams and nightmares, both literally and figuratively. Rising star Wasikowska (Alice in Wonderland, In Treatment, Jane Eyre) is superb as Agatha, her inner and outer scars revealing more and more of themselves as she reinserts herself into the life of her crazy family, with Cusack channeling a bit of Nicolas Cage as the overprotective patriarch, a self-help guru who could use a little help himself. Moore was named Best Actress at Cannes for her harrowing portrayal of an actress teetering on the edge of reality.

Shooting for the first time ever in the United States, Cronenberg captures the sights and smells of Los Angeles and its environs; most of the film was shot in Canada, however, but Cronenberg kept Wagner, a former Hollywood limo driver himself, close by, trying to attain as much authenticity as possible. Twilight hunk Pattinson, who spent all of Cronenberg’s previous movie, Cosmopolis, in the back of a limo, gets in the driver’s seat here, playing an alternate, reimagined version of Wagner. The severely screwed-up Weiss family serves as a microcosm for Hollywood’s own severely screwed-up dysfunction, as Cronenberg melds the ridiculous with the sublime, the tragic with the comic, the bizarre with the, well, more bizarre, creating a modern-day fairy-tale mashup of Shakespeare and Williams, Sunset Boulevard and Less than Zero, a caustic, cautionary tale of the price you pay for getting what you wish for. Maps to the Stars, with an introduction by Early (Search Party, The Afterparty), is screening March 9 at 4:45 and 7:15 at Metrograph, then will be streaming March 12-14 as part of Metrograph at Home.

STRAWBERRY MANSION

Dream auditor James Preble (Kentucker Audley) meets a fantastical young woman (Grace Glowicki) in Strawberry Mansion

STRAWBERRY MANSION (Kentucker Audley & Albert Birney, 2021)
Quad Cinema
34 West 13th St. between Fifth & Sixth Aves.
Through Thursday, March 3
212-255-2243
quadcinema.com

Kentucker Audley and Albert Birney follow up their 2017 codirecting debut, Sylvio, about a well-dressed gorilla working as a debt collector while he pursues his goal of having his own puppet show, with the equally bizarre but utterly fabulous Strawberry Mansion, continuing at the Quad through March 3. It’s 2035, and government auditor James Preble (Audley) has been assigned to investigate Bella Isadora (Penny Fuller), an elderly woman who lives in a strawberry-colored house in the middle of nowhere, behind a sign that announces, “The End.” The soft-spoken, all-business Preble is tasked with reviewing Bella’s dreams, which are now taxable; she has stored them on two thousand analog VHS tapes, which have been outlawed. Preble puts on an outlandish metal headset and watches Bella’s fanciful dreams on the tapes, calculating what Bella will have to pay. But Bella also gives him her own homemade electric helmet, which takes Preble into another world, where he encounters Bella as a beautiful young woman (Grace Glowicki) offering him a freedom he’s never known, amid impending danger. When Bella’s family shows up — her mean son, Peter (Reed Birney), his witchy wife, Martha (Constance Shulman), and their dullard son, Brian (Ephraim Birney), Preble learns more about the deep intrigue he’s involved in and is soon fighting for his own survival as he seeks the truth.

Strawberry Mansion is endless fun, a neonoir surreal fantasy thriller that evokes Michel Gondry’s wildly imaginative duo, Be Kind, Rewind and The Science of Sleep. It’s like David Lynch and Guy Maddin codirected an episode of Pee-Wee’s Playhouse based on a Stranger Things script by John Carpenter and David Cronenberg. The film switches between a muted palette and fanciful, bright hues, with settings that have a DIY quality as the story bounces between different times and locations with a seemingly reckless abandon; well-deserved kudos go to cinematographer Tyler Davis, production designer Becca Brooks Morrin, costume designer Mack Reyes, art director Lydia Milano, propmaster Marnie Ellen Hertzler, and set decorator Paisley Isaacs for creating an alternate universe that will have you thoroughly delighted while scratching your head, but don’t think too hard about what it all means. Electronic musician Dan Deacon composed the ultracool score.

Strawberry Mansion is more than just a surreal adventure into a supremely weird future; it is also a clever satire of overconsumption, social media, and the advertising algorithms that dominate our daily lives. It seems the only food available is Cap’n Kelly fried chicken (and the new chicken shake with gravy!) and Red Rocket cola, which come in containers broadcasting their prominent logos. And the use of VHS tapes instead of digital media harkens back to a lost past that we can never get back. Technical advancement is not always for the best, as we keep learning every day. In fact, Audley and Birney shot Strawberry Mansion digitally, then had it transferred to 16mm to give it that special look and create the old-fashioned atmosphere.

Audley (Open Five, Holy Land) portrays Preble as a 1970/’80s-style private eye in a low-budget Saturday matinee, with a great ’stache, while Albert Birney (The Beast Pageant, Tux and Fanny) appears as a frog waiter and blue demon. Fuller, who has received two Tony and six Emmy nominations (winning one) in her distinguished sixty-year career (Applause, The Elephant Man), has an absolute blast as Bella, a smile perpetually on her warm, charming face.

Dream auditor James Preble (Kentucker Audley) has quite a job to do in Strawberry Mansion

It’s a family affair, as Albert Birney’s aunt, uncle, and cousin, Constance Shulman, Reed Birney, and their real-life son, Ephraim, play Bella’s kinfolk, with Tony winner Reed (The Humans, Mass) and Shulman (Orange Is the New Black, Doug) chewing up as much scenery as they can. Linas Phillips is Preble’s oddball friend, Peter, while Lawrence Worthington and Shannon Heartwood are Richard and Marcus Rat and Mack Reyes is the stowaway. Oh, and don’t forget Sugarbaby the turtle.

Strawberry Mansion has all the earmarks of a cult classic, the kind of flick that should have fans lining up at theaters for midnight screenings dressed like the characters, tossing around props, eating fried chicken, and calling out favorite lines. I’m not going to tell you who I’m going as, as that might reveal too much about me.

TOP OF THE HEAP

Christopher St. John wrote, produced, directed, and stars in underrated blaxploitation flick Top of the Heap

TOP OF THE HEAP (Christopher St. John, 1972)
BAM Rose Cinemas
30 Lafayette Ave. between Ashland Pl. & St. Felix St.
February 18-24
718-636-4100
www.bam.org

George Lattimer is not just a cop; he’s a Black cop on the edge in Top of the Heap, screening at BAM February 18-24. The 1972 blaxploitation flick was written, produced, and directed by Christopher St. John, who stars as Lattimer, a Metropolitan Police sergeant in DC who is sick and tired of being treated like a Black man first and not an officer of the law. Surrounded by white men and Black women who take him for granted, he fantasizes about becoming an astronaut preparing to rocket to the moon. In the NASA scenes, he is slick and debonair, sporting ultracool facial hair and an infectious determination to succeed, but as the cop he is unsure of himself and his place in the world.

His mother (Beatrice Webster) has died but he doesn’t want to go to the funeral in his hometown in Alabama. His wife (Florence St. Peter) says he doesn’t communicate with her anymore. His white partner (Leonard Kuras) is corrupt. His daughter (Almeria Quinn) is downing pills. He gets no respect from his captain (John Alderson). His groovy nightclub-singing girlfriend (Paula Kelly, listed in the credits as playing “Black Chick”) makes fun of him. On an incident on a bus, he is mistaken for a criminal by a white rookie cop (Brian Cutler). Driving in his woody station wagon, he is almost hit by a cab driver (character actor extraordinaire Allen Garfield, who died from Covid in April 2020 at the age of eighty) who threatens to bust him up until he finds out he is a cop.

White people see Lattimer only as a Black man and all the racist stereotypes that come with that. Black men see him only as a cop, a traitor working for the man. His life and career are unraveling right before his eyes, and he is threatening to explode at any minute. “I can do any goddamn thing I want!” he cries out, but of course he can’t. When he visits his former colleague, retired police officer Tim Cassidy (Patrick McVey), the old man talks about being overwhelmed with fear and loneliness, feeling useless, all of the things that Lattimer is experiencing; just as America turns its back on the elderly, so it does on Black men like Lattimer just trying to get by day to day. When asked by a reporter what it’s like to be in space, Lattimer explains, “Isolation . . . Sort of like waiting at the mailbox for your welfare check.”

Nominated for the Golden Bear at the Berlin International Film Festival, the film features small touches that lift it above the realm of standard Blaxploitation. A poster in Lattimer’s daughter’s bedroom declares, “War is not healthy for children and other things.” In a fantasy sequence, his blond, sexy white Scandinavian nurse (Ingeborg Sørensen) is reading a copy of Ebony magazine before offering him her services. Soon-to-be heavyweight boxing champion Ken Norton shows up in a bar scene, ready to go at it with Lattimer. Meanwhile, the space fantasies evoke Gil Scott-Heron’s “Whitey on the Moon,” the 1970 song in which Scott-Heron declares, “The man jus’ upped my rent las’ night (’cause Whitey’s on the moon) / No hot water, no toilets, no lights (but Whitey’s on the moon).”

Imaginatively photographed by Richard A. Kelley and featuring a soundtrack by J. J. Johnson with percussive African rhythms and jazz fusion, the Afro-Futurist Top of the Heap is a potent exploration of the Black experience in the United States, as relevant today as it was fifty years ago. “Top of the Heap is a powerful, dynamic story as only a Black man can tell it,” the above original trailer proclaims.

It’s a shame that St. John and this film faded into obscurity; a member of the Actors Studio, St. John played Lumumbas leader Ben Buford in Shaft and had only a handful of film and television roles before quitting the business in 1988. In 2014, he and his son, Emmy-winning soap opera star Kristoff St. John, codirected the documentary A Man Called God, about their family’s involvement with an Indian cult. Kristoff passed away in 2019 at the age of fifty-two; St. John is now eighty.

Be sure to stay through the end of the credits, where a final bonus will make you wonder whether Jordan Peele is a Top of the Heap fan. Writer Josiah Howard, author of Blaxploitation Cinema: The Essential Reference Guide, will introduce the 7:00 screening at BAM on February 18.

THE AUTOMAT

Audrey Hepburn grabs a bite at the Automat in New York City (photo by Lawrence Fried, 1951)

THE AUTOMAT (Lisa Hurwitz, 2021)
Film Forum
209 West Houston St.
Opens Friday, February 18
212-727-8110
filmforum.org
automatmovie.com

New Yorkers are used to saying goodbye to iconic institutions, from the old Penn Station and Ebbets Field to the Carnegie Deli and the Stork Club. One of the hardest to bid farewell to was a most unusual eatery that catered to anyone who had a couple of nickels and time for a quick lunch or dinner: the Automat, a type of self-service restaurant that flourished in New York City and Philadelphia, predominantly during the first six decades of the twentieth century.

At the beginning of Lisa Hurwitz’s thoroughly satisfying yet elegiac debut documentary, The Automat, comedian Mel Brooks tells her, “I’m going to give you what I can in terms of time and effort, and I’ll try to write the song.” He continues, “I suggest you do some narration at the beginning to frame what you’re going to talk about. You know, with pictures — do you have enough pictures of Automats?”

Hurwitz has plenty of pictures of Automats and just the right narrator to open the film, Brooks himself, who explains, “Of course, when you say ‘Automat,’ or ‘Horn & Hardart,’ very few people know what you’re talking about. But one of the greatest inventions in insane centers of paradise were these places that had little glass windows framed in brass with knobs, and if you put two nickels into the slot next to the windows, the windows would open up, and you could take out a piece of lemon meringue pie for ten cents and you could eat it.”

Brooks is one of many people who more than just enjoyed going to the Automat; for them, it was an integral part of their lives, a place to gather with friends, colleagues, and family, schmooze a bit, and have a cheap but good meal. From 1902 to 1991, the Automat served young and old, rich and poor; race, religion, politics — none of that mattered in the egalitarian spaces.

The late Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg recalls, “Yes, this is the great USA, with people of all different colors, and religions, and manner of dress, and yet we are all together.” The late Secretary of State Colin Powell notes, “All the Automats had that beautiful diversity that didn’t exist in most of the rest of the country, of economic standing, of color, of ethnicity, of language. You never knew what you’d run into in an Automat.” Among the others waxing poetic about the Automat are Carl Reiner, Elliott Gould, former Philly mayor Wilson Goode, and former Starbucks chairman and CEO Howard Schultz, who says, “The Automat for me was a seminal moment in my childhood, and I became a merchant the day that I was in that Automat.” Brooks declares, “The Automat had panache.”

Made over the course of seven years, the film also features interviews with Lorraine Diehl and Marianne Hardart, authors of The Automat: The History, Recipes, and Allure of Horn & Hardart’s Masterpiece; former Automat VP of engineering John Romas; Edwin K. Daly Jr., whose father was president of Horn & Hardart from 1937 to 1960; New York City historian Lisa Keller; H&H architect Roy Rosenbaum; architectural dealer and restorer Steve Stollman, who bought a lot of the old mechanisms when the restaurants closed; and historian Alec Shuldiner, whose PhD dissertation inspired Hurwitz to make the film.

Mel Brooks sings the praises of the Automat in loving documentary (photo by Carl Reiner)

There are tons of great photos and film clips in the documentary, including shots of Audrey Hepburn, Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher, Jackie Gleason, Donna Reed, Abbott & Costello, and James Dean at the Automat and scenes from That Touch of Mink, The Bob Hope Show, The Flintstones, Warner Bros. cartoons A Hare Grows in Manhattan and Tree Cornered Tweety, Candid Camera, and such old movies as The Early Bird, No Limit, and Thirty Day Princess. Jack Benny hosts an opening there, giving out nickels to his guests. The Irving Berlin and Moss Hart musical Face the Music begins with the song “Lunching at the Automat.”

Hurwitz also deals with socioeconomic change that helped make the Automat so popular after the Great Depression and through both wars and, later, led to its downfall. The sentimental attachment everyone has for the Automat in the film is contagious, even if you never had the baked beans, ham and cheese sandwich, or creamed spinach; it was a special place to so many through several generations, and Hurwitz captures those sentimental feelings with panache while leaving you with an ache in your heart and stomach — and a song from Mel Brooks. The Automat opens February 18 at Film Forum, with Hurwitz participating in Q&As on Friday at 7:00, Saturday at 7:30, and Sunday at 5:40.

THE PACT (PAGTEN)

Birthe Neumann is radiant as socialite and author Karen Blixen in The Pact

THE PACT (PAGTEN) (Bille August, 2021)
Quad Cinema
34 West 13th St. between Fifth & Sixth Aves.
February 11-17
quadcinema.com
pactmovie.com

Birthe Neumann is mesmerizing as Karen Blixen in Bille August’s The Pact, now playing at the Quad. Blixen is better known by her pen name, Isak Dinesen, author of such books as Out of Africa and such stories as Babette’s Feast and The Immortal Story, all of which became films. The Pact opens in 1948, and Blixen, referred to as Tanne or the baroness, holds court over the fanciful and the glitterati at her family estate, Rungstedlund. Now sixty-three, she is seriously ill but still able to revel in manipulating those around her. She forms an instant liking for young poet Thorkild Bjørnvig (Simon Bennebjerg), taking him under her wing and making a pact of spiritual faithfulness with him, built on mutual trust and protection; she compares it to a deal she claims to have made with the devil, trading her soul for the ability to tell stories.

The thirty-year-old Thorkild is reserved and inexperienced, but the baroness is determined to instill in him the courage to be fearless to make him a better writer. “All white people have a fear in them that I can’t stand. And that is the fear of displeasing. Instead of doing what they want, they try to flatter, hoping to be liked,” she advises him. “Do you know why so many people are unhappy nowadays? It’s because they are no longer raised to be brave. But in order to be happy, you need to risk being unhappy.”

As he spends more time at Rungstedlund, the baroness attempts to drive a wedge between him and his wife, Grete (Nanna Skaarup Voss), a shy librarian, and their young son, Bo (Mikkel Kjærsgaard Stubkjær); she also tries to make him grow closer to Benedicte Jensen (Asta Kamma August), the wife of socialite and arts philanthropist Knud W. Jensen (who would go on to found the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art in Humlebæk, Denmark, in 1958). Thorkild finds himself trapped in the middle: He wants to be a successful writer, husband, and father, but the baroness, who is divorced and asexual, living in a mansion with only her housekeeper and assistant, Mrs. Carlsen (Marie Mondrup), pining away for her lost love, Denys Finch Hatton, insists that he cannot be all three and must choose between them.

The baroness (Birthe Neumann) has very specific plans for poet Thorkild Bjørnvig (Simon Bennebjerg) in Bille August’s The Pact

The Pact is a compelling, beautifully photographed tale of unrequited love, heartbreaking loss, and the creative process. Adapted by Christian Torpe from Thorkild Bjørnvig’s 1974 memoir, the film, gorgeously directed by Bille August (Pelle the Conqueror, The Best Intentions) with a subtle simplicity, opens with a pair of fascinating shots: Cinematographer Manuel Alberto Claro first shoots Blixen from the side, her face hidden in shadow as she applies makeup in front of a mirror, followed by Thorkild shaving in bright light, his wife holding their baby beside him. One is facing the end, while the other is just starting, a visualization of the film’s epigraph, a quote from Blixen: “Not by your face but by your mask shall I know you.”

But as good as Neumann is, the film’s heart and soul is Bennebjerg (Borgen, A Report on the Party and the Guests), who has primarily appeared in shorts and television series before assuming this lead role. He walks a fine line as Thorkild navigates his different, deep attractions for the characters played by Neumann (The Celebration, The Kingdom), Voss (Klaphat), and Kamma August (Burn All My Letters, Sex), the daughter of Bille August and Danish superstar Pernilla August. Bennebjerg portrays Thorkild’s coming-of-age as he moves from innocence to experience under the strict tutelage of the baroness with a trepidatious unease that holds everything together; his performance grows more nuanced as the character learns more about what he has signed up for and is often not sure quite how to proceed. It’s a stage of growth we’ve all found ourselves in, even if it didn’t involve a world-famous Danish writer, but Bennebjerg makes it feel like it could happen to any of us, at any moment.

THE UNMAKING OF A COLLEGE: THE STORY OF A MOVEMENT

Students occupy offices in documentary The Unmaking of a College

THE UNMAKING OF A COLLEGE: THE STORY OF A MOVEMENT (Amy Goldstein, 2021)
IFC Center
323 Sixth Ave. at West Third St.
Opens Friday, February 11
www.ifccenter.com

“One can worry that if Hampshire is failing, what does that mean for liberal arts education in general?” Sloan Foundation president Adam Falk asks in Amy Goldstein’s passionate documentary, The Unmaking of a College: The Story of a Movement. A graduate of the innovative, experimental independent Hampshire College, which opened its doors in 1970, Goldstein follows a months-long sit-in orchestrated by students upon learning that the institution was in danger of closing.

On January 15, 2019, new college president Miriam “Mim” Nelson sent out a letter advising of an important meeting being held in forty-nine minutes. At that meeting, which many people could not attend because of the late notice, she announced that the school was looking for a “strategic partner” and that there was likely going to be no incoming class in the fall. Students, teachers, and even members of the board of directors took action, demanding answers. When none came, the students occupied several offices, including Nelson’s, as they crusaded for their rights, attempting to save the liberal arts college, which had a relatively low endowment and relied primarily on tuition, which was high.

Columbia University professor Andrew Delbanco explains, “We are about to see a great shrinkage in the number of colleges and universities in this country because only the wealthiest will be able to survive. And it’s inevitable, I think, that fragile colleges are going to face the possibility of going out of business.”

Among the students Goldstein talks to are Marlon Becerra; Cheyenne Palacio-McCarthy; Andrew Gordon; Moon West; Annie Wood; Joshua Berman, who took extensive footage of various events and gatherings; and Rhys MacArthur, who works in the admissions office. They are often photographed in front of a large screen with campus footage projected over them, evoking how all-encompassing the situation is; they are not just battling for their education but for their future careers and life.

“Students have always been a huge part of how this college runs. I remember occupying the president’s office, but I don’t remember why. I mean, that’s just in our blood,” Hampshire alum and master documentarian Ken Burns notes. “At one point it seemed like the story is that Hampshire College is dead. I am happy to say that rumors of our death are greatly exaggerated.”

Nelson doesn’t back down even as the press gets hold of the story and some questionable behind-the-scenes negotiations are revealed. Sitting on the floor of her office, surrounded by students, Nelson tells them, “I just have to say, I feel like I’m in an alternative universe here. I am working so f’ing hard. I am fighting like you can’t even imagine to maintain our independence. It’s critical. So I’m looking at all of these things.”

Student Nya Johnson immediately responds, “You get paid to work f’ing hard. So work. Do your work. We pay you to do this. I don’t know; I’m just confused. What alternative universe are you living in?”

Hampshire has a history of activism and providing students with a nontraditional education. Fear of a merger with one of its sister schools, Amherst, Smith, Mount Holyoke, or UMass, worries students and faculty; professors are concerned with what would happen to them, particularly as potential layoffs loom. However, as Hampshire professor Salman Hameed declares about Nelson, “She picked the wrong college to mess with.”

Hampshire College president Miriam “Mim” Nelson finds herself under fire in Amy Goldstein doc

Goldstein (Kate Nash: Underestimate the Girl, Self-Made Men) also speaks with Hampshire Gazette reporter Dusty Christensen, Science magazine editor in chief Holden Thorp, former college president Adele Simmons, lead fundraiser Cheri Butler, and Hampshire board of trustees member Mingda Zhao, who each offers a unique perspective on the conflict.

Hampshire professor Margaret Cerullo writes an article for The Nation detailing what is happening; she titles it “The Unmaking of a College: Notes from Inside the Hampshire Runaway Train,” a riff on the school’s original manifesto, The Making of a College. Yale School of Management associate dean Jeffrey Sonnenfeld announces, “This was very badly handled.” The only person who speaks up for Nelson is Hampshire alum and conservative Subject Matter PR firm CEO John Buckley, who was hired by Nelson to help handle the crisis. “I saw a woman who was trying to do the right thing who got caught and made some mistakes, and then everything unraveled really, really badly,” he says.

Hampshire’s motto is “Non satis scire” — “To know is not enough.” The students’ nonviolent campaign for transparency, involvement, and agency, to know the truth and be part of the solution, is inspiring; many of them are learning lessons that will help them on their life’s journey while also finding out there can be lies and betrayal on that road. In many ways, the film serves as a primer for the future as the next generation prepares to eventually take over a torn and tattered America — and it all begins with education.

The Unmaking of a College: The Story of a Movement opens February 11 at IFC Center; Goldstein will be on hand for a Q&A with some of the film’s subjects following the 7:50 show.