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The long: I screened My Architect: A Son's Journey on Tuesday, and promptly wrote a well-thought-out review of the documentary. I was all proud of myself--not only a preview, but an actual review on-time and very good, if I do say so myself.

I re-read it when I woke up and immediately trashed it. Why?

Well, it comes to this: I don't like Nathaniel, the son who's on a journey.

Let me explain.

This movie is a story about Louis Kahn, an incredibly influential architect who did amazing things with simple building materials, respecting both the materials' strengths and how they affect the surroundings. He had legions of followers and detractors who have strong feelings regarding both the man and his work. This cinematic labor of love spanned 5 years in the making, and includes interviews with some of the greatest names in architecture, including I.M.Pei and Frank Gehry. I never doubted Lou's genius, his innovation, his unshakable need to create permanent pieces that would meld with their surroundings. I was awed by these masterpieces, by the play of light and shadow, by the differing textural elements utilized in each building to give it personality. I love the cinemtography, the reverence that the filming shows for these testaments to Kahn's genius...but I absolutely, entirely abhor his methods of interviewing. To me, anytime he tries to delve into the past and get explanations, rememberances, stories, or emotions out of his targets--he made my blood boil.

You see, Nathaniel was Lou's bastard son; Lou had 3 families but married only one woman. One child from each union; three children who didn't know of each other until after Lou's death. As the youngest, Nathaniel knew his father the least and set out to find out as much as he could about the man he seldom saw. He interviews his father's peers, he interviews family members, he interviews the three women in his father's life, he interviews the man who discovered Lou's deceased body in a bathroom...he's obsessed with his father, and I just can't get on board with how wonderful Nathaniel is. (Hey, I didn't start with the praise. The critics did.)

I saw another documentary last weekend (Roger and Me)** and that plus this crystallized my revulsion. I realized that what I don't like about these type of 'personal' documentaries is that they're not telling a story or a truth, they're ferreting out something that somebody has kept from them, and therefore have the subtlety of a steamroller. Excuse me for being blunt (oh, what the hell. It's my site.) As a person who spent her childhood being bullied, there is nothing more offensive than watching a bully on-screen, self-righteously attacking their subject so they get an answer they need. For example, talking to his mother about her feelings for Lou and her dreams/desires/etc, he shows absolutely no respect nor restraint and instead asks absolutely retarded and asinine questions as he pushes her to tell him what he wants to hear.

That's not good anything, let alone good movie-making. You might not like the story you end up telling, but tell it well or don't waste my time.

Also, don't sandwich your crappy emotion-seeking interviews between absolute lyricism; it's jarring, and when I almost fall asleep every time you talk, I miss these gorgeous shots of time-lapse photography across the building's face.

I'll end this absolutely useless review with this reflection: beauty can be found anywhere, but it can be marred by some jackass opening his mouth.