Belfast, Maine

Unscripted and unrehearsed, the latest in pioneer documentary filmmaker Frederick Wiseman's cinema vérité epics (see Public Housing [VL-1/98]) looks at the residents of the small community of Belfast, Maine, as they go about their daily activities. The first tape opens at sunrise as the viewer follows the lobster boats out to sea, followed by visits to a dry cleaning establishment, a floral arranging class, the corner cafe, a city park, a town meeting, and dozens of other groups and activities, all the while observing like the proverbial fly on the wall as people perform their tasks and carry on conversations. By the second tape, however, viewers get the sense that they are seeing a skewed perspective of "community": there are few "regular" middle class people, no wealthy professional citizens, no charming historical district, no beautiful homes with manicured yards, and very few children. What we're shown instead is a man reading to a group of mentally retarded men (who are oblivious to each other), a social worker picking lice out of the hair of another woman, a talented musician trying to coax a hopeless choir through the choruses of Handel's Messiah, people trying to fight city hall, and some who are simply dying. We come to realize that Wiseman's film is not really about Belfast, Maine, at all, but rather our attitudes toward the ordinary, plain, and flawed people with whom we co-exist but never "see" in our communities, people whose paths often run parallel to our own but seldom cross ours in any meaningful way. In presenting an opportunity to spend some time with neighbors from all walks of life, Wiseman forces the viewer to take both a hard look at personal feelings and ponder society's attitudes towards the not so beautiful people overlooked by the media, who also, like the rest of us, struggle to find joy and meaning in their lives. Highly recommended. Aud: C, P. (L. Stevens)