THE NEW YORKER AT 100 (B) - There is something mildly disappointing about a perfectly fine but ordinary documentary about the legendary New Yorker magazine as it turns 100. It's like taking a picture of the Grand Canyon; you just can't replicate it in two dimensions.
Director Marshall Curry's film is not exactly fawning, but it is certainly deferential. It stands in awe of everything the highbrow magazine has ever done. But it hits a lot of the high notes as it plays out like a greatest-hits album from a classic-rock band. There are the legends: John Hersey's Hiroshima piece; Rachel Carson's "Silent Spring," James Baldwin's "Letter From a Region in My Mind."
Staffers espouse gratitude for the steady guidance from the editor's office over the years. Kalefeh Sanneh says he is appreciative that the open-minded readership is "willing to go wherever you take them." We watch pen-and-notebook journalists in action -- John Lee Anderson abroad; Nick Paumgarten on the streets of the city; and Rachel Syme in a restaurant interviewing Carol Burnett. We spend time with the "vaunted" fact-checkers; they even fact-check the cartoons. We watch staffers pick through the cartoon submissions for the week. The visual style is represented by art editor Francoise Mouly (above).
One staffer relishes the irony of a magazine, widely viewed as elitist, strictly enforcing house style that demands an accent aigu over the e in "elite" in print. Thoughtfully, author Chimamanda Ngozi-Adichie cautions about falling into the trap of liberal/academic guilt; she reasons that a dose of elitism is necessary during a time when anti-elitism is swamping the nation.
The talking heads are legion. Actors Molly Ringwald and Jesse Eisenberg swoon when recalling the thrill of getting published by the New Yorker. We glimpse eccentric legends like cartoonist Roz Chast and film critic Richard Brody, who, like many others, discuss their process and craft. Hilton Als is the wise veteran; the dogged Ronan Farrow is the relative newcomer. Tina Brown is on hand to analyze her stewardship in the 1990s, widely seen as modernizing the paper just in time to save it from the dustbind of fussy history.
The central character is current editor David Remnick, and there is a little too much of him, at times delving into some of his family life that just isn't interesting. But overall -- as it churns through the publication's 10 decades methodically -- this is a surprisingly comprehensive snapshot of a very good magazine that still cares week in and week out. As its jam-packed weekly issues have proven in the past year, the New Yorker at 100 still has impressive game.
THE MERCHANTS OF JOY (B+) - This bright documentary is both joyous and insightful, as it delves into the hustle and bustle of small-business operators who sell Christmas trees on the streets of New York City.
Director Celia Aniskovich (riffing on a magazine article by Owen Long) frames the narrative as a tale of "five families" -- and her nod to organized crime is not inapt; the cutthroat practices can be mob-like at times, and there are several references to actual mafia infiltration of the sourcing of trees from places as disparate as Vermont and Oregon. It's a business where 11 months of prep inform five weeks of street-smart retailing. The entrepreneurs jockey for key locations and then supervise an army of seasonal workers, some of whom sleep in wooden sheds tucked behind the tree stands.
The business owners are all engaging. There is George, a big lug who could have played Bobby Baccalieri on "The Sopranos." He is looking for love as well as December profit. Heather (the NYC Tree Lady), a decade into recovery, likes to hire alcoholics and addicts as a way to help them get straight. Her soft touch with a homeless man discovered sleeping in her shed exemplifies her relentlessly upbeat attitude. Unseen but heard in telephone recordings is Kevin Hammer, a proverbial and mythological bigfoot on the block who talks New Yawk tough and shows little patience for playing kumbaya with the others.
Two families are passing the torch between generations. George and Jane, after 50 years, are ready to fully hand off to daughter Ciree, who has been running the operation for a while now. And then there is Greg (above), whose son, dubbed "Little" Greg (despite towering over his dad), dropped out of college and is taking over for his aging dad. The 60-something father is stout and has a white beard (and a jolly demeanor) and thus plays the role of Santa Claus at events. It's all a little too ho-ho-ho for my tastes, and the production values smack of a reality TV show competition.
However, Aniskovich is blessed with made-for-TV characters. Part of the fun is learning the process, from tree farming to setting up the stands to making the sales, rain or shine, snow or no. She even has a little twist at the end when drama enters the life of one of the families. All the characters are a joy to hang out with.
BONUS TRACK
"Merchants of Joy" reaches off the grid for its Christmas songs. That includes "Christmas Wrapping" by the Waitresses:
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