A Voiceover Effectiveness at 2022 True/False

True/False returns to the indoor theaters across downtown Columbia for its 2022 edition after being outside at Stephens Lake Park last year. Some of the selections, notably the 9 Sundance world premiere features, got to have their 1st indoor public screenings due to COVID. With its first-ever screening virtually, each film did not have the proper sound design for its intended audience and venue. When it comes to such screenings at T/F, it is notable to hear specific sound effects at a theater where its execution would not have the same impact on the smaller screens at home. This adjustment also applies to the films’ dialogue on and off-screen.

True/False is known for not having conventional, talking head docs. Instead, it is known for having films that challenge the formal functions of film language, observational footage from start to finish, and their use of different mediums (archival, blend of animation and 16 mm, etc.). In addition, to get audiences familiar with the non-fiction environment, the films will use voiceover narration without a talking head interview shot to connect the different sources of materials into one cohesive story. The films that are featured in this dispatch have their purpose in using voiceover, and their impact from this purpose contextualizes the filmmakers' message and themes.

A still from Fire of Love. Courtesy of National Geographic Films

One of the most popular films at T/F is the Sundance Jonathan Oppenheim Editing Award-winning hit Fire of Love (directed by Sara Dosa) from the award recipients Erin Casper and Jocelyne Chaput. The film explores the love story between volcanologists Maurice and Katia Krafft while performing their job. Their personal lives are not well-known while their work influenced generations of volcanologists. They were previously featured briefly in Werner Herzog's Into the Inferno, but Herzog only presented them as martyrs, and the film never dives deep into the people behind the legends. In Fire of Love, Dosa and her team brought live performance artist and filmmaker Miranda July (Kajillionaire, Me and You and Everyone We Know) to provide the Kraffts' inner feelings and emotions that are not established to the public. This incorporation elevates the story's universality as no one needs to know the inner workings of volcanos or the Kraffts intensely to watch the film. It also creates a sentimental and sensory tone towards nature documentaries whose voiceovers often state sophisticated facts being intelligent in its line delivery a la docs at planetariums and similar museums. 

July avoids asking questions in her narration and lets the viewer go on a ride with moods and tense, gorgeous lava shots. My favorite moments of the film happen when it appears that we are relaxed in an area of danger after the couple's tasks are done. Then, suddenly, there are volcanic eruptions that are louder than all the other audio portions, pushing me to the back of my seat. It provides a shock of what I’m watching while acknowledging the preventive measures of the Kraffts’ profession. The unexpected eruptions become a turning point for each professional stage of the Kraffts' careers that will culminate in the story's ending. With a variety of music tastes (the savvy French score to associate the Krafft's background and rock songs for a story about volcanic rocks), animation, and editing techniques that reflect the 60's French New Wave cinema (e.g. jump cuts and split screens), Fire of Love is a meticulously detailed flick in its footage that embodies the thrill of doing your dreams with the closest people in your life. While Dosa has narration to stitch the personal and science lives together, Reid Davenport narrates for personal and emotional purposes in I Didn’t See You There, his Sundance award-winning film from this year’s U.S. Documentary Competition for Best Directing.

A still from I Didn’t See You There. Courtesy of Reid Davenport

I Didn’t See You There (directed by Reid Davenport) follows the director’s day-to-day life in Oakland, trips to his home in Bethel, CT, and his complex relationship with circus tents that symbolizes P.T. Barnum (a “celebrated” Bethel native) Freak Shows. Though you see glimpses of Reid in reflections when the camera is rigged to his wheelchair and body parts when he holds the camera, the film is not about seeing him from the outside. I got to ask him, and We Met In Virtual Reality director Joe Hunting about including themselves indirectly in their films on their Film Comment episode. Reid wants to keep it ambiguous to keep up with the film’s debate of being seen. My takeaway from his response and film is that it is about observing on the inside as Reid uses the camera as an extension to his optical lens and to hear, not just see, people with disabilities. The scenes that support my argument are when people block the crosswalk while parking their cars, an amateur apartment worker laying out electric cords while working, and bus passengers looking at Reid after a bus employee places Reid in a direction he did not request. 

After interacting with the apartment worker, he yells “Fuuuuck” once he gets to his apartment as he relieves himself from being civilized and polite with ignorant, shallow-minded people. Each scene creates an uncomfortable and unhealthy routine that takes a toll on Reid. Yet, these events are something that many physically enabled people do not have to think twice or at all when it comes to navigating across the globe. He combats this pain with humor in his critiques of society and freak shows. In the critiques, he shows the audience a more hopeful world via insightful conversations with his non-profit Through My Lens co-founder Daniel Lee and mother about reminders of your place in society and how one becomes politicized. His decision to be the film’s narrator informs the viewer of the circumstances he went through, lets them know who is telling the story, and contributes to the listening debate that the viewer is engaged with from its beginning. He wonders if they will validate his lived experience through them listening to him. Davenport embodies the beauty in its ode of seeing from his point of view in the film. His intentional selective camera placement (whether rigged on his wheelchair or holding it with his hands) creates an unpredictable yet exciting visual journey for the viewer. As the personal and the political natures cannot at times be separate, so does the historical context as depicted in the 2021 IDFA selection, Turn Your Body to the Sun.

A still from Turn Your Body to the Sun. Courtesy of Aliona van der Horst

Turn Your Body to the Sun (directed by Aliona van der Horst) follows Sana Valiulina's exploration of the past of her father, Sandar, a Soviet soldier whom the Nazis captured during WWII. Unfortunately, Sandar never spoke about it publicly or to her and is dead. To preserve her dad's memory and legacy, Sana has to search for information from written documents (such as diaries and letters) for her search. Throughout her investigation, the audience sees pixelated, slowed-down archival war footage. She provides a voiceover of her observations and dives deep into identifying her father in the footage's presentation. Her imprints on the film through voiceover and family connections contribute to the technique's historical nature. Furthermore, it elevates her credibility in reclaiming her dad's legacy by explaining her and others' versions of Sandar. Finally, this process becomes cathartic to her as she "go where it hurts" in her quest and, at times, evident that she struggles with words during her voiceover. Horst said at a post-screening Q&A that past use of archival footage in films went "too fast" because she wanted to explore its meaning by slowing and colorizing it. This decision reminds viewers of Peter Jackson's They Shall Not Grow Old. 

It makes viewers connect the soldiers' pain that pertains to the Russo-Ukrainian war and see how lively they are by presenting it as an ongoing story. The footage exhibits multiple physical layers of the soldiers as human beings instead of flat human bodies. In addition, she creates a new use of it by depicting the people in the footage as ancestors that make unexpected moves for the audience and live on in spirit. However, despite the artistic achievement, the film muddles down on the personal storyline of the meaning of Sana's search. It goes repetitive in the film's historical context of Hitler and Stalin's dictatorship in WWII, overshadowing Sana's arc through its archival footage. Unfortunately, Sana's story gets lost when Horst brings a bit too much history in a personal tale. As a result, it indirectly loses its established message of connecting with people indirectly from its stylized display of war footage. Furthermore, the film's techniques make Turn Your Body to the Sun an incomprehensible yet motivating tale of reclaiming one's biography. As this film goes through the personal and historical nature of voiceover, Mija gives an homage in its voiceover to specific works that inspire its director Isabel Castro.

Still from Mija. Courtesy of Disney.

Mija (directed by Isabel Castro) follows music manager Doris Munoz finding her next client in singer Jacks Haupt after a fall through with singer Cuco amid the COVID-19 pandemic. Doris and Jacks are both first American-born members of their undocumented families and bond over the guilts and pressures of being dependent upon their families of making it in society. While the film explores and celebrates culture, heritage, and pride in Jacks's and Doris's journeys, it spotlights music managers and other personnel figuring out their roles. In past music docs (mainly bios), the behind-the-scenes people are often secondary to the story and, at times, depicted as perfect, legendary geniuses that do not go through emotional trials and tribulations like the singers. While Doris maintains her reputation of launching stats when she reaches out to Jacks at the end of the first act in Los Angeles, the film cuts to Jacks's preparation for her photoshoot in Dallas. It happens to be an unexpected but exciting direction that parallels the two leads' work ethic and family relationships and implies that this is a universal story, not just Doris's. 

With Doris's permission, Castro formed an exclusive working relationship with Jacks to know her deeply. It creates a patient yet moving experience as Jacks's first scene shows how the world evolves through others instead of sticking with one person. According to the film's press kit, Castro uses Munoz's voiceover to tribute to the female coming of age works Sex in the City and Clueless. They profoundly affect Castro as Carrie and Cher's voiceover "became friends" with Castro during her teenage years. But they narrowly resonated with Castro as the White-centered characters did not reflect her upbringing as a Mexican immigrant. In Mija, Castro uses a voiceover from Doris to connect the emotional ethos of finding a sense of belonging and immerses the viewer into Doris's world. With Doris credited as a voiceover co-writer and co-music supervisor, she has agency in presenting herself and her community on-screen with her thoughts on life and extensive music taste that entails the characters' journey. Her song selections and voice writing create an uplifting, multifaceted emotional ride upon turning 26. This ride consists of the leads’ family and professional lives, and it unintentionally unbalances the various arcs partly due to its short 88 minutes. I wish it could have been a few minutes longer towards the family subplot as the music elements overshadow the leads’ family's arcs. However, it is made up through Jacks's phone call in bed with her parents at the end of the second act when they question her career. It implies how her family is jealous of her ability to leave them and views her as a meal ticket. It also symbolizes her lack of energy when she is tired of being her family’s main provider in the argument. It highlights the theme of sacrifice for a better future. With a fused soundtrack and voiceover that entails the interior and exterior lives of Jacks and Doris, Mija presents an optimistic hopeful healing journey about a Latinx immigrant experience that doesn’t revolve around trauma and showcases the highs and lows of making it in the music industry.

Whether you think the films are executed (im)perfectly subjective, each film proves why voiceovers are vital. It is simple yet meaningful. Each film highlighted has its meaning to its voiceover; these four films exemplify how it elevates its relationship to audio and visuals and gives each storyteller a voice for viewers to listen and watch their works.