Creative Partners

 

TURN EVERY PAGE (A-minus) - This documentary about the half-century collaboration between LBJ biographer Robert Caro and editor Robert Gottlieb is a labor of love by Gottlieb's daughter, Lizzie. It is a fascinating, and very personal, study of two true titans of publishing.

Caro, a ferociously diligent investigative journalist, broke big in 1974 with "The Power Broker," a legendary tome about the man who created the modern New York City. Caro was paired on that project with Gottlieb, who would head up Knopf publishing and, later, the New Yorker magazine, and the two remained business partners forever. Each man is the personification of old-school dedication to the written word.

Caro learned from a news editor early on to leave no stone unturned when sifting through research documents, or, as the title reminds us, to "turn every page." His three-volume biography of Lyndon Johnson has morphed into a five-volume life mission, with the fifth installment still pending perilously, as both men were pushing 90 when the movie was being made. His books are about more than just the men who serve as his subjects, but also about the accumulation and effects of political power -- and thus they tell deeply American stories. 

Other writers and editors, both old and young, are on hand to attest to the brilliance of Caro's chronicles. They also have deep admiration for Gottlieb, who estimates that he has edited between 600 and 700 books in his career, including such foundational titles as "Catch-22" (he changed the number from 18) and authors like Toni Morrison. Bill Clinton is on hand to sing Gottlieb's praises and to admit that he feels like a "lost little boy" after Gottlieb, at 89, took a pass on editing Clinton's latest book. 

Both men are pre-eminent storytellers -- Caro, in particular, is riveting as he reveals how he finally got LBJ's brother to open up to him about the Johnsons' childhood -- and they have character and charisma to burn. Gottlieb drops witticisms effortlessly -- like his observation that it's much easier to be adorable than to be industrious. Talking heads -- including the New Yorker's famous comma queen, Mary Norris -- go beyond kindly bon mots to break down the nuts and bolts about the trades of writing and editing. (Norris and others offer a playful disquisition on the semicolon, for example.) 

Perhaps the secret weapon of this film is that it is a valentine to the classic era of storytelling. Caro hand-writes his first drafts before typing them out, using carbon paper as a backup. Gottlieb, an inveterate reader since childhood, plies his trade with a yellow pencil. Just watching the lost art of detailed reporting and editing play out on the screen can make certain viewers a little misty-eyed. A few little touches pay off.  We are treated to personal details like Caro's voluminous trove of carbon copies (stashed above his fridge) and Gottlieb's quirky collection of purses.

But even though this is a delectable story, it runs too long. Lizzie Gottlieb, like other recent documentarians (see the Kurt Vonnegut bio), insists on inserting herself into the story, from beginning, middle and end. (We don't need multiple shots of photos of her as a little girl with her parents; footage of her wedding; or scenes with her son walking through a bookstore with his grandfather.) This story could have been told in a tad over 90 minutes; as it is, it runs nearly two hours. Ironically, the filmmaker could have benefited from more editing.

SIRENS (B+) - This chronicle of a female death-metal band in Lebanon -- let the uniqueness of that sink in -- is a little too arty, but it does a fine job of exploring the personalities of and relationship between the band's guitarists, who share the spotlight and open themselves up to examination. It is a study of female sexuality, bonding and empowerment in a restrictive society.

Lilas (above, left) is big-haired and ballsy, pretty openly lesbian, and confident, whereas Shery (right) comes off as hesitant and a bit insecure. The women, firmly in their 20s, and their bandmates in Sleeping With Sirens appear to be earnest and dedicated to their music, even if there isn't much of an apparent fan base, illustrated by a sad performance in front of a smattering of fans on the D stage of a British music festival. 

Filmmaker Rita Baghdadi embeds herself in the lives of Lilas and Shery, and the intimacy pays off. We also are privy to rehearsals and songwriting sessions, where the music seems much more nuanced and thoughtful than the noise that gets spewed onstage. Baghdadi tries too hard, though, to put a high gloss on the cinematography and scene choices. Too often, situations appear to be staged, with the camera happening to be in just the right place, at just the right angle, to perfectly capture a given moment, sometimes in soft focus. 

But deep down this is a moving story of two women struggling for their art. It helps that the subjects -- Lilas, in particular, especially when she decides to trim that mop of hair of hers -- are relatable and admirable.