Netflix originality

Since 2000, the majority of my film viewing has come through Netflix, first from their “long-tail” DVD-by-mail service, and subsequently from their streaming service.  By now, however, and by strategic plan, comprehensive selection is a thing of the past, and almost the only thing I watch from Netflix is original programming.  The compensation is that so much of it is so very good.  The profligacy of their spending leaves a margin for genuine artistry.

Films like Roma, Private Life, and Mudbound, or series like The Crown, GLOW, and Russian Doll, are really must-viewing, as much as HBO or any premium cable channel, and more than any network offerings.  As Netflix throws its money around, Medici-style, some of it spills into truly worthwhile and otherwise infeasible projects.

Case in point, Ava Du Vernay’s When They See Us (MC-87, NFX), which initially seems superfluous after the Ken Burns-&-family documentary of The Central Park Five, but as with dueling O.J. Simpson series a few years ago, two high-quality productions complement each other.  And where in the Simpson case, the race card is played to let a guilty man go free, only to end up in jail anyway, in this one innocent children are railroaded and vilified on a racial basis, sent away for years, only to be freed when the actual guilty party confesses, backed by DNA evidence.

In this series of four hour-plus episodes, the first recreates the taped interrogations that led to coerced confessions from the isolated teens, and having seen the actual tapes in the documentary, one might wonder whether that’s necessary, even though the boys’ acting is excellent.  The second episode recounts the trial, in standard if upsetting detail.  In the third episode, families visit the four boys in juvie facilities, which dissolve into scenes of their various difficult homecomings, played by different actors.  The fourth episode follows the one 16-year-old tried as an adult (who was only involved because he accompanied his friend to the police station that fateful night), as he spends 13 years of incarceration shuttling between Rikers and Attica and other grim facilities, much of it in solitary confinement, for his own protection. 

All nine actors are well-matched and very good, calling to mind the boys of the pinnacle fourth season of The Wire.  Among the adults are many well-known actors, too numerous to list, but the casting as whole gets a big thumbs up, along with other production values.

The series is companion piece and follow-up to Du Vernay’s superb documentary 13^th, about race-based mass incarceration as slavery by other means, and puts a very human face on it.  It’s essential viewing, if by no means a fun watch, emotionally harrowing and intellectually enraging.  And timely, when you consider that the bigot who took out full-page newspaper ads calling for the boys’ execution now occupies the White House.

One more product of Netflix largesse is another Bob Dylan documentary from Martin Scorsese, Rolling Thunder Revue (MC-86, NFX), following the 1975 tour of that name.  A fascinating time capsule, with electrifying concert footage, the film is partially derailed by the director trying to follow the performer’s lead, as elusive and allusive sleight-of-hand trickster.  The result is not so much a documentary as an elaborate and unnecessary hoax, as well as overlong.  But still, if you grew up with Bob Dylan, or even if you did not, you will want to revisit these live performances.

Dead to Me (MC-68, NFX) falls somewhere between watchable and not-unmissable, unless like me you’ve had a little crush on Linda Cardellini since Freaks and Geeks.  Here she pairs with an equally - if differently - engaging Christina Applegate, as odd-couple black-comedy friends who meet at a grief support group, after losing their mates.  Apparently, that is, because each of the ten half-hour episodes strives to add twists to the tale, in Netflix’s trademark binge-watch style, reviving the traditional serial cliffhanger.  But any mystery involved pales next to the shifting relationship between the two women, which is spiky and funny and touching, full of lies, evasions, and genuine affection.  You can see why Liz Feldman’s series was renewed for a second season as soon as it came out.

Documentary Now (MC-88, NFX) may not be a Netflix original, but all three seasons are now available there.  This is niche programming at its best.  Each episode is a spot-on parody of a famous documentary, which means barely known to the general public.  Bill Hader and Fred Armisen were among the creators, and frequently star in episodes, but by the third season heavyweights like Michael Keaton and Cate Blanchett put in appearances.  This is a series of serious spoofs.  Start with episodes that parody documentaries you know, or at least know of, to appreciate the knowing humor of the half-hour remake, but don’t hesitate to explore unfamiliar episodes, which might even lead you back to the documentaries themselves, almost all of which are well worth viewing.