Derrida (2002)

Kirby Dick (Sick, Private Practices) and first-time director Amy Ziering Kofman take a look at, arguably, the most important and influential philosopher of the twentieth century, Jacques Derrida. And perhaps "take on" is the best way to understand the dynamic of this film.

Kofman's intention was to get away from the philosophy, for the most part, and get to the quotidian existence of Derrida's life. Which is all well and good, except that people who go to see a film about Jacques Derrida are going to want the philosophy. But looking at it strictly from the slice-of-life aspect, the film still comes off looking like a student project. (Co-director Kirby Dick, who came in after the start of production, mentions the "naivete" of the footage that had already been shot in interviews. Indeed.)

It probably doesn't help that Derrida keeps throwing monkeywrenches into the works himself. It's not as if he feels uncomfortable with the camera, though his reactions at times may be mistaken for such; it is more that Derrida feels an acute sense of being filmed, which at times makes him reluctant and at times makes him somewhat mischievous. (Kofman is from Los Angeles; during a lecture, for example, Derrida mentions that the last film the class looked at from LA was footage of the Rodney King riots, and goes on to pull the parallel out farther.) The end result being a documentary with no finesse about a subject who is reluctant to be a subject.

One thing of note, though: the wonderful score by Ryuichi Sakamoto (Wild Palms, etc.). It is brilliant, and perhaps does a better job of underscoring things here than does the direction. Lovely.

While a look into the life of Jacques Derrida is a rare and wonderful thing, and needs to be treasured, I wish Dick had been the author here, or a similarly gifted documentarist. What we have could have been-but wasn't. ** ½

You learn how he finds his house key, how he prepares a snack, and how he puts on his coat. You see his wife, some of his friends, tight smiles, trying to stay out of the picture. What you don't get much of is the man doing what made him famous - and even less an exploration of his career. Who or what does he read, talk about, care about, when he is not forced, by the insistent camera, to answer slightly embarrassing questions?

To give him credit, Derrida works hard to contribute something intelligent to the show, as for instance when he reflects on the impoliteness of philosophical biographies. Indeed, this stalker movie makes you wonder what they actually wanted from Derrida. Kirby Dick never got any of the dozens of people he filmed to tell a good Derrida joke, and Amy Kofman's flirtations with the tan and trim thinker will make the audience squirm.

If you want to see Derrida talk about film, watch 'Ghost Dance' or his television interviews with Stiegler. If you want to hear him reflect on his career, watch the French documentary Safaa Fathy made with him. But if you ever wondered what might happen when you put a professor into a kind of reverse witness protection program, as Warhol did with Ondine, then watch this DVD. Beware though: the heavy-handed use of voice-overs may make you sad that the years of footage and access Amy Kofman and got in the end amount to little more than having the fan put the master's words into her own mouth.

Derrida observes towards the end of his film that this documentary will have more to say about the film crew than about him, Jacques Derrida, because it will be the film crew to edit the shootings and decide "which Jacques Derrida" is to be presented. If that is indeed the case, then the movie tells us its creators were young, inexperienced, not well-versed in philosophy; they missed a golden opportunity to meaningfully explore the life and philosophy of the last great post-structuralist.

At regular intervals, difficult passages from Derrida's writings flash on the screen, leaving us little time to ponder them. Sound bytes dont work well for Derrida! The interviewers questions are haltingly broad, "What do you have to say on the subject of love?", haltingly personal, "Tell us about how you fell in love with your wife?", or haltingly stupid, "which philosopher would you have liked as a mother?". To his credit, Derrida either refuses to answer such questions, or reformulates them into intelligent ones. At one point Derrida begins to make interesting comments on the myth of "Narcissus" and "Echo", obviously alluding to the relationship between "source" and "simulacra", but the interviwer fails to ask penetrating questions to draw him out on the matter.

After a family lunch, Derrida himself, turning the tables, asks an overly broad question of the interviewer: "What did you think of my family?". "Il sont tres gentils, tres chaleureux" is the response. I wonder if the irony of this was lost on Derrida and the film crew.

We see Derrida eat, get a haircut and meet friends...a warm fuzzy to remind us that Gallic philosophers are, after all, just like us. In short, if Americans suddenly took more interest in the lives of French philosophers than Britney Spears, this film would be on "People" magazine's recommended list. Tant pis.

-Thomas Seay