Now in it’s fifth year, New York City’s Tribeca Film Festival continues to cull out an identity for itself, marked in part by the strength of its international documentary programme. Co-founded by Robert De Niro, Tribeca was born in the wake of the tragedies of 11 September 2001 to help bolster the downtown neighbourhood of Tribeca – where the World Trade Center stood – while also offering a wide range of fiction and non-fiction films to satisfy the appetites of cinephiles.
Over forty feature documentaries were screened in this year’s line-up, sixteen in the International Competition. Films played to packed houses and Q&As with filmmakers were lively, which makes sense in a city known for its mix of intellectual and filmic fervour. A local favourite was “Wordplay”, a stimulating romp about crossword puzzle fanatics and New York Times puzzler Will Shortz. “Wordplay” screened out of competition because it had premiered at Sundance; Tribeca requires a North American premiere to screen in Competition.
Festival Executive Director Peter Scarlet likes to stress that he’s eager to show the kinds of documentaries that are customarily not easily available to viewers in the US. “Our emphasis remains on giving exposure to filmmakers whose style or subject matter may lie outside the mainstream.”
”Blue Blood” is the kind of documentary that begs the question: why hasn’t someone made this film before? Since 1897, the men of Oxford have been meeting their Cambridge matches in the boxing ring – duking it out in the yearly Varsity bout. If you’re not a boxing fan, or don’t take easily to blood gushing from mashed noses, give this one a chance anyway, it’ll surprise you: “Blue Blood” is brain meets brawn in an unexpected story of the inner fighter in all of us.
In turn entertaining and insightful, “Blue Blood” was directed by Stevan Riley whose previous work includes “Rave Against the Machine”. “When wracking my brain for a new documentary, it was with a mini-eureka that I remembered the Oxford v. Cambridge Varsity match,” says Riley, who studied at Oxford, dabbling in courses such as Mandarin Chinese before majoring in history. “I’d attended the annual fight night and was blown away by the charged atmosphere and ferocity of the bouts. It was perplexing to watch ordinarily polite academics hurl obscenities across the balconies, hoof-stomping as their boxers tore at each other like bears in a pit.”
“Blue Blood” is not your typical sports film. That’s obvious from the outset: the boxers are not your typical athletes, if athletes at all, some scrawny and clumsy, others clearly more comfortable debating jurisprudence than landing a right hook. There’s Chris Kavanagh, a philosophy major, whose girlfriend shudders at every blow to his head, and Charlie Ogilvie, a fine arts major, whose singing coach is concerned that sparring might affect the alignment of his neck – and thus his tenor voice. Then there’s Justin Bronder, the fiercest of the bunch. He’s the only American (the rest are British), a PhD student in astrophysics and a former US Air Force Academy cadet who’s equally as passionate about delving into the mysteries of the universe as he is about jumping out of planes – and making the Oxford “blue” squad as their welterweight contender.
Also atypical of “Blue Blood” is its unpredictable, near brilliant use of music. You don’t get driving macho beats here or even yes-you-can-do-it inspiration; instead, tracks like the “Damn It Feels Good to Be a Gangsta” blast onto the soundtrack, offering a kind of aural counterpunch, if you will, that invites a relationship with the violence on the screen that’s so surprising you might forget you’re watching guys beat the crap out of each other. For Riley, each track serves to reinforce the separate myths each character imagined about fighting: “Justin’s Christian zeal is foretold in the Rolling Stones’ “Shine a Light” and Charlie’s cavalier showmanship in a Verdi operetta. The characters differ wildly from one another and it was fun to support that by giving each a firm musical signature.”