The Sleeping Bear

We’re all fascinated by child prodigies. Mozart, Bobby Fischer, Freddy Adu, Traci Lords – all youngsters who fascinated the population because of their professional prowess at such a young age.

Marla Olmstead was no different. She started painting abstract art before she could even piss on a toilet, selling her first pieces by the age of 2. By the time she was four, her elaborate paintings were fetching as much as $15,000 each, she was exhibiting in New York and Los Angeles and was a media star.

And as quickly as she burst onto the scene, her fame and fortune vanished. 60 Minutes, with her parents cooperation, placed a hidden camera in the house to capture her painting her next masterpiece. Only problem was, it turned out not to be a masterpiece. And according to a child psychologist, her painting technique was no different than any other 4 year-old, except for one thing: her father coached her on how to paint.

My Kid Could Paint That follows the Olmsteads, first through the giddy high that came with national stardom, and subsequently through the anguish that followed the 60 Minutes expose.

As the hate mail flows in following the 60 Minutes piece, we watch Marla’s parents try to keep their cash cow alive. Like corporate PR geniuses, they videotape Marla’s next painting, which they and the gallery owner responsible for selling the painting, hail as a work of a genius. But the documentary’s director, whom the Olmstead’s now see as their best chance at reversing the backlash that followed the questioning 60 Minutes piece, as well as the couple that ultimately buys the painting, have their doubts.

What at first appears to be a movie about a child genius instead turns into a documentary about art, media, parenthood and ultimately the bias inherent to any form of art. It asks more questions than it answers, leaving the audience to decide on the ultimate truth: Was Marla’s father responsible for putting the finishing touches on her paintings?

Much like Marla’s paintings, the movie is multifaceted, painting a broad, moving story. From Marla’s mother, to her father, to the gallery owner – a photo-realistic painter whose paintings can take up to a year of painstaking work to finish – everyone plays a vital role in what is ultimately an impressive, intelligent, thought-provoking movie that doesn’t definitively answer its own questions. Instead, mirroring Marla’s handiwork, the ultimate truth is in the eye of the beholder.

Verdict: 89 out of 100.

Drumroll please……It’s time to start a weekly feature here on the Sleeping Bear. No more talking about penises, or stolen cell phones or Xubuntu. Nope, it time to talk documentaries.

And no, I haven’t been a big documentary viewer over the years. Sure, I’ve seen the mainstream ones like The Thin Blue Line, the Michael Moore stuff and other assorted documentaries, but I haven’t dug deep into the genre. So I’m far from a documentary buff. But armed with my shiny new Blockbuster Total Access membership, I’ve been watching a few documentaries lately. And now I’m going to review them for none of the world to read.

Up first is a documentary with heart, soul and quite possibly some of the oddest people on the planet.

The King of Kong – A Fistful of Quarters

A documentary about the world’s best Donkey Kong players? (Rolls eyes) Yeah, sounds great.

Don’t let the subject matter fool you. This is one excellent documentary. It follows a former Boeing employee and current high school teacher Steve Wiebe as he tries to beat living legend Billy Mitchell, his beautiful hair, and his throng of adoring, thin haired, bespectacled, game-playing geeks.

Poor Wiebe. He’s the typical lovable loser. The dude tries hard, but he seems destined for second-best. He can’t pitch his team to the state baseball title as a senior and then loses his job at Boeing years later. No problem, he says, I’m going to be the greatest Donkey Kong player of all time. And go back to school to be a teacher. Way to aim high Mr. Wiebe.

But then something special happens. He ignores his kid’s pleas to wipe his ass and breaks the world Donkey Kong record on the machine he has out in his garage. Fame and fortune are soon to follow.

Except the folks at Twin Galaxies responsible for certifying the record disagree. Since the board in his garage came from a guy embroiled in a feud with Billy Mitchell, the current record-holder and hot sauce maven, Twin Galaxies refuses to accept the record.

So Wiebe travels cross-country to challenge Mitchell for the record head-to-head. And sets the record live, in front of gaming geekdom, minus Mitchell, who’d chickened out. Only problem? Mitchell submits a videotape the same day that shows him setting a new, even higher mark.

More shenanigans ensue as Wiebe pursues the record.

In the end, the King of Kong is as pleasing a spectacle as any Oscar-nominated blockbuster. You’ve got a lovable loser (Wiebe), a pompous ass (Mitchell), shamefully shady oversight (Twin Galaxies), wacky characters (damn near everyone), and a story that moves along at a frolicking good pace.

I laughed, I felt outraged, I empathized and in the end I was thoroughly entertained by The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters.

Verdict: 91 out of 100.