Worth putting finger on the pulse
Ifind myself having even less patience than usual with the ‘‘there’s nothing worth watching on TV any more’’ crowd. Especially when you kind of know, from the tone of the conversation, that the proponent of that tired, old opinion hasn’t taken the time to have more than a cursory glance at what is actually available. Especially on TVNZ’s increasingly diverse and surprising freeto-air OnDemand channels.
Pick of the litter lately has been the unheralded and not-much-publicised Pulse section, which runs a locally curated selection of documentaries – many with an arts focus – from Aotearoa and all over the world.
Seriously, if you’re despairing of Netflix’s endless sewer of ‘‘true crime’’ and not much else, masquerading as a ‘‘selection of documentaries’’, then do yourself a favour and have a look at what’s on Pulse. And, it’s all free.
Without even delving past the front page, I can see that all three of Florian Habicht’s locally made documentaries – Land of The Long White Cloud, Rubbings
From a Live Man, and the outrageously entertaining and subversive Kaikohe Demolition – are all here.
As well as Upside Down, on the UK’s iconic Creation Records, Versus, on the life and films of Ken Loach, and the terrific Lennon NYC, which does exactly what you might hope, but even better than you were expecting.
My pick this week though, is the mesmerising and unforgettable Brimstone and Glory, which was a personal Top 100 pick for the year, after it screened in our cinemas in 2019.
Brimstone and Glory is a fly-on-the-wall
visit to Tultepec in Mexico, which is home to a large chunk of the Mexican fireworks industry. Every year, the locals of the town, pretty much all of whom work at making explosives for their neighbours to the north, hold a week-long festival of their industry, during which they absolutely blow the living hell out of the town, the surrounding countryside and – quite often – themselves.
Seriously, Tultepec is not a place you expect to grow old and still have the full complement of fingers and thumbs you came into this world with.
Brimstone and Glory is a gentle riot of a
film. Without narration, or any of the usual Western documentarians’ intrusiveness, director Viktor Jakovleski (he’s a part of the collective who made the astonishing Beasts of the Southern Wild) simply watches and listens while the conversations and then the mayhem unfold around him.
In 67 concise minutes, Brimstone and Glory packs in more emotion, human truth and sheer beauty than almost any film I’ve seen in the past few years. With the sound turned all the way up and attention being paid, Brimstone and Glory is a glorious trip.