63 UP (B+) - At this point, Michael Apted -- in checking in every seven years to chronicle a cohort of baby-boomer Brits -- is essentially an editor of his past projects. Ever since the group started to enter middle age -- around "49 Up" -- the new portions have tended to consist of sharp questions to the participants about the uneventful slog toward grandchildren and the grave.
With "63 Up," that latter task takes on added resonance, because, for the first time, one of the original subjects has died since the last installment (yes, it's a tear-jerking moment), and another is battling cancer. And Apted, who is about to turn 79 himself and has been reported to be slowing down, seems to sense the urgency of the moment this time around, as if others might not make it to 70 (about half of them are seriously overweight) or he might not make it to "70 Up." He zeroes in on the big questions of life and how well-lived it has been. He also asks each one if they agree with the adage that our essence is baked in by age 7. Most agree that it seems true. Only Neil (pictured below) -- always the most thoughtful and philosophical of the bunch -- digs deeper for a response. (He also reveals yet another source of heartbreak in his troubled life -- a failed attempt at marriage.)
And in a rare break from protocol, Apted asks his subjects a political question. Their takes on Brexit -- especially from snooty John and East Ender Tony -- might surprise you. But otherwise, this installment, at times, is like a Facebook page devoted to Boomers' kids and grandkids and dogs. Maybe there won't be a need for any more films in the series; most of these folks have settled in to old age and are content to ride it out to the end.
Scholars will someday provide a comprehensive sociological summation of this series. For now, the New York Times takes a serious stab at a full-blown analysis with this piece (warning: SPOILERS) and this insightful excerpt breaking down the class consciousness of the grand experiment:
Apted, like a social scientist, emphasizes the role of big, obstinate forces; his participants almost invariably take the opposing side of agency and self-determination. What we get, as the show goes on, is an ever-fuller picture of how particular individuals at times shrink to inhabit the givens of an inheritance and at times spill over the sides of those constraints. What emerges are the countervailing qualities of structure and dignity.
Apted brings this all together in his typical time frame -- about two and a quarter hours. It makes for even more condensed callbacks to the most iconic scenes. As Apted explains it in the Times piece, “To condense all that time to a hysterical pace — it’s terrifying, in sort of a bogus way, but it does dramatize how quickly things go by.”
Is this the last "Up"? I have to say, when 7-year-old Suzy (the poor little rich girl) appeared on the screen I swooned like I always do -- Suzy! But, sadly, as she threatened back in "49 Up," Suzy did not participate this time. Hers has been one of the most compelling story lines. But she had warned Apted that her journey felt complete -- she was who she was or was ever going to be. As disappointing as her absence is, perhaps she had signaled -- by her inner contentment (or resignation?) -- that while you might not be able to pigeonhole the child at 7, you almost certainly can sum up the person by 49. So, mission accomplished? And fade to black?
BONUS TRACK
While we're on the doc watch, let's knock out a new film from the streets of Mexico:
MIDNIGHT FAMILY (A-minus) - This gorgeous noir of a documentary intimately follows the men and boys of one family who perilously eke out a living operating a private ambulance service in Mexico City. With few ambulances provided by the government, private outfits lurk around the city chasing reports from police scanners and racing each other to the next business opportunity.
The star here is Juan Ochoa, 17, with movie-star looks and "Baby Driver" skills behind the wheel. He is joined by pudgy, baby-faced adolescent Josue and two adults (presumably the father and uncle), Fer and Manuel. They hustle through the night, battling not only other companies, but also corrupt police officers seeking bribes and the health-care system. They never know whether they will get paid for their services -- depending on whether they go to a public or private hospital and whether the victims are insured or not. They never now how cheap their next meal will be.
Writer-director Luke Lorentzen shoots in a claustrophobic but crisp style, lucking into picturesque moments. He nestles his cameras inside the ambulance -- front and back -- making this a true ride-along. The individual tales can be quite moving -- a teenage girl whose nose has been broken by her boyfriend requests a hug to help ease her anxiety (and she gets it). As she is pulled out of the ambulance, the camera shoots from behind her head, and we see her raise her arms, trying to wipe the bloodstains from the tattoo on her forearm. It's an indelible image, one of many unforgettable moments in the life of these men and boys, and the victims they serve.
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