Sputnik Mania
Directed by David Hoffman
at IFC Center
In recent years, the documentary genre has been taken down from its musty shelf in the public television library, dusted off and given a makeover. Michael Moore has emerged as an unlikely rock star of the American left; Morgan Spurlock, the Evel Knievel of documentarians, combined the voyeuristic appeal of reality television with old-fashioned muckraking in Super Size Me; then others have found success using children as their subjects, shaking loose the grown-up stuffiness of the genre. Plus, directors have tapped into the American love of quirk, producing documentaries on subjects like crossword puzzles, wheelchair rugby, a love story about a man who throws acid in his girlfriend’s face and a Donkey Kong competition. Compared to these, the Ken Burns model seems doomed to be forever relegated to classrooms and museums. David Hoffman’s documentary Sputnik Mania, about the launch of the Sputnik satellite and its influence on the Cold War, is a return to tradition.
Based on Paul Dickson’s book Sputnik: Shock of the Century, Sputnik Mania is composed of equal parts voiceover narration (by a magisterial Liev Schreiber), archival footage and present-day interviews. Like most documentaries, it circumnavigates its subject, examining it from every possible angle: public fear of a Communist investigation and the exploitation of that fear by the media; the story of Laika, the first dog sent into space; “rocket fever” among American teenagers; and the foundation of NASA.
What Hoffman doesn’t do, although he may have intended it, is draw a parallel between his story and the current political climate. Fear mongering is certainly something we’ve become familiar with in recent years, but any further conclusions on the subject are left entirely up to us.
The absence of a modern message makes Sputnik Mania feel somewhat incomplete, like a textbook lesson without a compelling message. But how much of that expectation comes from the flamboyant documentaries we’ve become accustomed to in recent years, which are often tragically flawed in their inability to rein in enthusiasm for their subjects? Sputnik Mania is not riveting; but it is, first and last, informative. It’s the BBC World News to Morgan Spurlock’s Daily Show; and as any well-rounded student of current events can attest, the ideal is to have a little of both.
Directed by David Hoffman
at IFC Center
In recent years, the documentary genre has been taken down from its musty shelf in the public television library, dusted off and given a makeover. Michael Moore has emerged as an unlikely rock star of the American left; Morgan Spurlock, the Evel Knievel of documentarians, combined the voyeuristic appeal of reality television with old-fashioned muckraking in Super Size Me; then others have found success using children as their subjects, shaking loose the grown-up stuffiness of the genre. Plus, directors have tapped into the American love of quirk, producing documentaries on subjects like crossword puzzles, wheelchair rugby, a love story about a man who throws acid in his girlfriend’s face and a Donkey Kong competition. Compared to these, the Ken Burns model seems doomed to be forever relegated to classrooms and museums. David Hoffman’s documentary Sputnik Mania, about the launch of the Sputnik satellite and its influence on the Cold War, is a return to tradition.
Based on Paul Dickson’s book Sputnik: Shock of the Century, Sputnik Mania is composed of equal parts voiceover narration (by a magisterial Liev Schreiber), archival footage and present-day interviews. Like most documentaries, it circumnavigates its subject, examining it from every possible angle: public fear of a Communist investigation and the exploitation of that fear by the media; the story of Laika, the first dog sent into space; “rocket fever” among American teenagers; and the foundation of NASA.
What Hoffman doesn’t do, although he may have intended it, is draw a parallel between his story and the current political climate. Fear mongering is certainly something we’ve become familiar with in recent years, but any further conclusions on the subject are left entirely up to us.
The absence of a modern message makes Sputnik Mania feel somewhat incomplete, like a textbook lesson without a compelling message. But how much of that expectation comes from the flamboyant documentaries we’ve become accustomed to in recent years, which are often tragically flawed in their inability to rein in enthusiasm for their subjects? Sputnik Mania is not riveting; but it is, first and last, informative. It’s the BBC World News to Morgan Spurlock’s Daily Show; and as any well-rounded student of current events can attest, the ideal is to have a little of both.
