Review: "Circo" dissuades you of any remaining circus nostalgia

It's easy to love the romance of the circus. Despite the high-profile stories of animal cruelty and legends of "carny folk," circuses hold a magic usually reserved for wild west cowboys, prohibition gangsters, and seafarers of the golden age of sail. We all know it's hard and sometimes horrible work, but there's a dreamy nostalgia in the circus, even if the individual has never actually experienced it themselves.

It is easy to think that things have changed--that circuses were once something else and fell from their entertaining grace to the dregs of live entertainment. In this narrative, the circus can still be magical. It can be the forerunner by Disneyland. "Circo" director Aaron Schock has made a film to show you that the suffering of the circus didn't get worse over time. If anything, he shows that in a world without regulations, without Netflix, and without money is actually much uglier than Barnum & Bailey when the curtain finally went down.

Schock follows the Ponce family and their one-ring circus, Circo Mexico. The documentary Tino, the ringmaster of Circo Mexico. Indebted to his father and the family legacy, he trains his children to perform in a low-level circus while his wife tries desperately to convince him that he is being taken advantage of, and destroying his family to boot. Through it all, there are failed shows with low turnouts, deaths of circus animals, and testimonies of loss from even the family's youngest members.

In the turmoil of the time spent with the Ponces, it is easy to forget that this is, at its core, a family of performers. The perfectly scripted marital struggles are convincing, but if you catch yourself thinking about them, they can feel a bit canned. Still, this family is struggling to get by, and with the exception of Tino's father, who is depicted counting money and demeaning off-camera family members for most of his screen time, they all come off decent and sincere. That decency and sincerity is what makes their separate paths so much more powerful.

Ultimately, "Circo" is a moving depiction of a family in a poor country trying to get by in a very difficult, unorthodox way. There are moments that feel manipulative, others that feel exploitative, but as a whole, it feel fair. The family you are watching is sometimes manipulative, as all our families are. The family you are watching is exploited, as many of our families have been. The filming is beautiful, the music great. But the people are what make this documentary worthwhile.

Review: Manhattan Short

If you knew nothing about the 21st Manhattan Short Film Festival and were an attendee at my showing, you couldn't be blamed for having low expectations. Shown in a 20-seat theater in a charming (or rundown, depending on your perspective) old screening room in Salem, Massachusetts, you might have winced, as I winced, at the amateurish graphics starting the program. You may have cringed, as I cringed, at the founder introduction, which felt less like a greeting to a cinematic experience and more like a pitch for a timeshare in a a mediocre part of Florida over Skype.

You may very well have felt all these things that I felt. But you didn't, because unless you were part of a single elderly couple, you were not there. And that is unfortunate.

For all the criticism of the festival's lack of slickness that could be levied against it (and I was TOTALLY prepared to levy that shallow critique), the festival's seven films were almost to the minute excellent. While I have very little experience with short films, the compelling variety of the festival made a case that a collection like Manhattan Short could serve not just as a competition for the few cinephiles, but as an introduction to the moving novella to the many entertainment seekers.

Baghead

The first film, "Baghead," pulled no punches. Described by director Alberto Corredor as a story of a shapeshifter who is one thing, then another, we are given a vignette reminiscent of Neil Gaiman's opening scenario to American Gods, but with a mourning husband who is significantly less compassionate and understanding than Shadow. It is filmed both beautifully and creepily, and the performances submitted by all parties (but particularly Natalie Oliver's Lisa and Julian Seeger's Gatekeeper) are convincing and gripping for its fifteen minute run. Meanwhile, writer Lorcan Reilly should be commended for writing a genuinely good story about how grief and anger can bring out a special kind of ugliness in a person.