The Unforeseen
Directed by Laura Dunn
at Cinema Village
Documentary filmmakers walk a delicate tightrope before an audience: They must present a subject they feel passionately about without losing focus. In The Unforeseen, a documentary about the environmental hazards of urban sprawl, director Laura Dunn’s lack of control over her subject does not completely destroy the message of the film. Why? Because the case for environmental preservation is strong, and it’s one we already know about. But it does stand in the way of telling a story we haven’t seen before.
The film’s primary story line involves formerly immensely successful, now bankrupt real estate developer Gary Bradley’s plans in the Austin area in the 1980s, which threatened the locally revered Barton Springs swimming hole. In the film’s most powerful scene, hundreds of environmentalists stage an epic filibuster at a town hall meeting: Bolstered by support from Texas’ then-Governor Ann Richards, the protest leads to the plans being overturned in favor of preserving the springs. When George W. Bush replaces Richards as governor in 1994, he supports legislation pushed by powerful lobbyist Dick Brown to return property rights to the real estate developers.
It’s a compelling story, but one which slips away from Dunn as she becomes obsessed with hammering the point home. What is subtly illustrated in the beginning by animated projections of developments snaking their way across maps of Austin is heavy-handedly force-fed to us at the end by an interview with a doctor who explains how cancer spreads throughout the body. Get it, slow audience? It’s a metaphor.
Dunn also falls into the embarrassingly transparent Michael Moore trap of redundantly demonizing her antagonists. When Dick Brown speaks, spewing smug insults about environmentalists and their cause, Dunn never shows his face; she films only his hands, which are diligently crafting a model warplane. This is more winking and elbowing than we need: We understand he’s a bad man.
Perhaps most irritating is the recurring presence of Robert Redford, who co–executive produced the film with Terrence Malick. Redford speaks of learning to swim at Barton Springs and a lifelong commitment to the environment, which is touching at first but, after an inordinate amount of airtime, smacks of cameo irrelevancy. In the end, we can appreciate the film’s good intentions, but we can’t shake the feeling that we’ve been talked down to, rather than informed.
Directed by Laura Dunn
at Cinema Village
Documentary filmmakers walk a delicate tightrope before an audience: They must present a subject they feel passionately about without losing focus. In The Unforeseen, a documentary about the environmental hazards of urban sprawl, director Laura Dunn’s lack of control over her subject does not completely destroy the message of the film. Why? Because the case for environmental preservation is strong, and it’s one we already know about. But it does stand in the way of telling a story we haven’t seen before.
The film’s primary story line involves formerly immensely successful, now bankrupt real estate developer Gary Bradley’s plans in the Austin area in the 1980s, which threatened the locally revered Barton Springs swimming hole. In the film’s most powerful scene, hundreds of environmentalists stage an epic filibuster at a town hall meeting: Bolstered by support from Texas’ then-Governor Ann Richards, the protest leads to the plans being overturned in favor of preserving the springs. When George W. Bush replaces Richards as governor in 1994, he supports legislation pushed by powerful lobbyist Dick Brown to return property rights to the real estate developers.
It’s a compelling story, but one which slips away from Dunn as she becomes obsessed with hammering the point home. What is subtly illustrated in the beginning by animated projections of developments snaking their way across maps of Austin is heavy-handedly force-fed to us at the end by an interview with a doctor who explains how cancer spreads throughout the body. Get it, slow audience? It’s a metaphor.
Dunn also falls into the embarrassingly transparent Michael Moore trap of redundantly demonizing her antagonists. When Dick Brown speaks, spewing smug insults about environmentalists and their cause, Dunn never shows his face; she films only his hands, which are diligently crafting a model warplane. This is more winking and elbowing than we need: We understand he’s a bad man.
Perhaps most irritating is the recurring presence of Robert Redford, who co–executive produced the film with Terrence Malick. Redford speaks of learning to swim at Barton Springs and a lifelong commitment to the environment, which is touching at first but, after an inordinate amount of airtime, smacks of cameo irrelevancy. In the end, we can appreciate the film’s good intentions, but we can’t shake the feeling that we’ve been talked down to, rather than informed.
