Doc Watch: Collectivism

HOLY HELL (B) - When has a cult not been led by a creepy sexual predator? "Holy Hell" is an insider's view of the Bhuddafield, a collection of shiny happy people who gathered in L.A. in the '80s before decamping for Austin in the '90s and descending into a psychological maelstrom that had the enigmatic Michel Rostand.

Will Allen was 22 when he joined the group and 44 when he left, and he was the resident videographer, so his archival footage is the critical fuel for this sometimes lurid documentary from CNN Films. What he captured was a virtual bacchanalia of buff youthful bodies, led by Michel, who was obsessed with body-building and plastic surgery. In most of the footage, Michel is peacocking around in a Speedo, often leering at the camera.

Allen collects a good number of original members, now estranged from the group because of various forms of psychological and sexual abuse. Michel preyed on the men -- they say they were raped, though in a statement shown before the end credits, Michel insists that all contact was consensual. Women were pressured to get abortions. Couples had their relationships sabotaged.

Rostand, a bit actor in Hollywood in the '60s and '70s (you see a flash of him in "Rosemary's Baby") and in gay porn, obviously targeted troubled young adults. Allen himself was fleeing his parents after coming out to them as gay. Other former members come off as a bit theatrical to this day, perhaps never achieving the stability that would have helped them avoid getting ensnared in this mind-control experiment.

As such, there is a surprising lack of depth to this exploration of hows and whys of a classic cult. Like the group itself, the former members suffer from a certain level of superficiality. Even though some of them break down on camera, there is still an air of denial about them, as if they are still tamping down the issues that made them so vulnerable 20 or 30 years ago. Some even acknowledge that there was a lot of positive takeaways from their communal experience -- love, support, spirituality, romping on the beach with their cares miles away.

For a man who wielded a camera for decades, Allen is a rather stilted filmmaker, making his debut here. His own personal story (his sister was a member, too) offers more distraction than insight. A more skilled documentary veteran might have plumbed deeper, tapping into something profound.

IN JACKSON HEIGHTS (B) - There's a fine line between thorough and tedious. No one knows that demarcation better than Frederick Wiseman, the legendary documentarian who built a career on fly-on-the-wall studies of various communities and phenomenons.

Here his static camera observes the people of Jackson Heights in Queens, New York, perhaps the most diverse neighborhood in the country. We watch people of various faiths -- a lot of Jews and Muslims -- and ethnic backgrounds as they gather in churches, community centers, banquet halls, or the offices of their small businesses. This is a three-hour marathon, but it's peppier than the interminable "At Berkeley," his four-hour examination of the university campus on the other coast.

Wiseman threads a few narratives through this collection of vignettes. One recurring theme is the threat of a Business Improvement District (BID), which is expected to bring in chain stores like the Gap and Home Depot while squeezing out local entrepreneurs, many of them Spanish-speaking. The local city councilman Daniel Dromm is a recurring character, giving speeches and glad-handing among his constituents. A scene of his office-worker getting an earful on the phone from a resident is priceless -- we only see and hear the worker's side of the conversation, her patience strained by the constant interruptions from what must be a familiar pest on the other end of the line.

Elsewhere, Wiseman stares unblinkingly at the mundane routines of everyday life. We watch the entire process of chickens being killed, de-feathered, and otherwise prepared for sale. It is disturbingly casual. In another scene, senior citizens kibbutz at a community center, one woman in particular who complains about having no friends or relatives and being confined to a wheelchair while another woman tries in vain to have her look on the bright side. The residents seem entirely unfazed by the presence of the camera. Other fleeting images capture a tattoo parlor, a belly-dancing class, a knitting circle and a citizenship study session. Parishioners doze during a Catholic sermon. Fruit and flowers burst from sidewalk vendors' stands. A spirited lecture to south Asian taxi drivers learning such basics as north, south, east and west is worth the price of admission.

The filmmaker will certainly test your patience. Some dialogues seem to go nowhere. The BID conversations -- with community organizers urging buy-in from the local business owners -- delve into incredible detail. At one point, one spokesman drones on, unedited, and a young organizer steps in to give him the wrap-it-up signal, as if he could picture the future audience collectively squirming in its chairs. This film doesn't have the grit of the director's "Boxing Gym" (2010) or the glitz of "Crazy Horse" (2011).

Still, Wiseman shoots in vivid colors, and it is mostly a joy to be immersed in this rich melting pot. The rhythm and hum of someone else's humdrum life is oddly comforting.