Quarantine streaming has been a weird dance. Yes, we have more time. But Twitter, a pandemic, and underlying anxieties about what the future holds can do a number on the brain. This is my attempt to write about what we’ve watched in our time since It All Began.
Spaceship Earth (Hulu)
The best thing this documentary does is give you a picture as expansive as space itself. I only knew beforehand the vague details, that this was about a crazy experiment done in a desert in 1991, in which 8 researchers committed to self-sustainability within a biodome. What I did not expect to learn is how this expensive, deeply ambitious project wasn’t the beginning but rather the culmination of many years of mind-expanding experimentation. When you meet all the members who made it happen, you see that it really all began way back in the ’60s, when a charismatic man (yes, you’ll wonder if it’s a cult) brought together a group of free-thinking artists. They started off with their own theater, The Theatre of All Possibilities. From there, they understood the best way for them to learn and change the world was by taking matters into their own hands. They partnered with the billionaire heir of a Texas oil dynasty, who gave them the necessary money to dream bigger.
If you’re not convinced this group can pull something like Biosphere 2 off, just know they once built their own boat, the Heraclitus, in the docklands of Oakland, learning and building as they went, creating a ship that, 45 years later, still sails around the world conducting scientific and cultural projects and experiments. The idea that they could build something sturdy enough to brave six oceans and sail over 270,000 nautical miles over the years is just…it’s as inspiring as it is brain-breaking.
The history of the John Allen-led group is so rich and fascinating that the actual Biosphere 2 experiment almost feels anticlimactic. Director Matt Wolf deeply understands that the problem was never really with the idea or the aim – it was always going to be with the people involved. At some point, tensions would develop in the crew sealed in with each other. At some point, dangerous situations would occur that would strain things further. At some point, the higher-ups would make decisions that badly angered those doing the real work. And at some point, unfortunately but not completely unexpectedly, a dark figure would stride into all of this and destroy every bit of scientific evidence that had been painfully collected.
If that last sentence made you stand up, it should. Even more when you find out this person was behind some of the more devastating policies and decisions in our country’s recent history. Spaceship Earth, in the end, is a fascinating look at the power of dreams and the all-too-present danger of them being shot mercilessly, callously down.
The Last Dance (ESPN/Netflix) –
I knew Michael Jordan as a cultural icon before I knew him as a basketball player. His career started the year I was born, and I never quite caught up to him – beyond accepting the universe’s general given he’s the best basketball player of all time – until he dismantled my precious John-Stockton-and-Karl-Malone-led Utah Jazz in the NBA Finals two years in a row. I did, however, grow up with LeBron James. I still remember his first Sports Illustrated cover as I thumbed through the issue at the kitchen table. It seemed preposterous for someone to be anointed that early, and to be asked if he’d ever meet the bar of being Like Mike. Since then, LeBron has gone on to have quite the outstanding, long-lasting career, one that regularly, in the midst of his prime, asked others who they got: MJ or LeBron.
For the longest time, I only had one true dog in the fight: the King himself. Countless times I have dropped everything I’m doing just to catch bits of his games, especially in his Miami and later Cleveland years. Every time we thought he was washed, he found another gear. Even more, he embraced the community, goodwill, and politics in a way MJ never quite did. I could accept the argument that Michael was the fiercer player and LeBron the more complete. But still: those in MJ’s camp never waivered, and those in LeBron’s camp often moved back and forth. I wanted to better understand just what made everyone want to be Like Mike.
Enter The Last Dance. Director Jason Heller and his team did a pretty incredible job at poring through thousands and thousands of hours of footage to distill it down to these ten episodes. The way they combine music with what’s on the screen makes it one of the purer audio/visual delights out there, nearly long-form videos for a band you’d happily follow across the country. By the end, I felt like I much better understood what made Michael Jordan so great, what made the Bulls the dynasty they were, and just how infuriating it was the way management broke that team up.
But there’s one catch.
As fun as it is to see everyone pitch in with their interviews, it can’t be overlooked who one of the key producers is: Michael Jordan. While there are definitely a few parts that are more critical of Jordan, they’re often followed by explanations that cast him in a better light. Jordan is in full control of the narrative. By the end, what should seem like a man at peace instead feels like a man still chasing a ghost. The difference is that the Last Dance gives us a hugely entertaining chance to chase along with him.
The Speed Cubers (Netflix)
Every time a rather bloated film sinks into the streaming ocean, an argument goes around about just how necessary the length is. Some will argue the extra time nails down necessary character development. Some will argue it’s just narrative fat in need of more muscle. Inevitably, the conversation leads to someone piping up about just how nice it is to see a full, satisfying story told in 90 minutes.
Well, what if I told you there existed a hugely satisfying, deeply emotional story in just half that time, a meager 40 minutes? It’s called The Speed Cubers and its essential viewing. We get a glimpse of the longtime Rubik’s Cube-solving champion, Feliks Zemdegs, a jovial young Australian. We then get a glimpse of his emerging rival, Max Park. The narrative path leads us on a collision course that will center around the 2019 cube-solving World Championships in Feliks’ own backyard of Melbourne, Australia. It may sound like a predictable little sports documentary. I can assure you it is most definitely not. The joy is in the details. As beautifully told a story as I’ve seen all year.
Hannah Gadsby’s Douglas (Netflix)
Gadsby’s 2019 special, Nanette, was meant to be the final note in her stand-up career. She explained how comedy had really kept her from growing past her trauma, threw in some amazing bits of art history that dispelled the dangerous myth of the tortured genius, and took a well-deserved bow. That was supposed to be it. But as it made a plethora of Best-Of lists that year and sent Gadsby’s popularity skyrocketing, it became obvious she was going to have to find another way to do the stand-up comedy she swore she was done with.
I find Douglas to not only be a fantastic follow-up but to be on-par with Nanette. She is just as truthful and bracingly honest. She is also just as masterful with form, illustrating to the audience beforehand the exact structure of her show and all the minefields she’ll be walking around and into, and the way the audience catches onto all of this as she indeed climbs the aforementioned structure is a thing of beauty. She peppers in some art history again, this time taking aim at the ridiculous artistic aims of the patriarchy as well as cracking on the names of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (trust me – it’s worth the watch).
She wraps all of these observations and stories up in an artfully designed bow about what it means to be Hannah Gadsby, a lesbian stand-up comedian with autism. What’s so beautiful about this bow she wraps for us is how deeply empathetic it is to herself. We know it took her a long time to work towards self-acceptance. And as you see her grow more detailed about her own life and feelings, it becomes even more relatable. Who hasn’t felt like a pufferfish, blowing up whenever we’ve been slighted or a certain button was pushed? You’ve never quite seen the world explained the way Hannah Gadsby does and we are so fortunate to have her share it with us.
