TOUCH THE SOUND - DVD review

Documentaries receive more press coverage than ever in the wake of 2004's so-called "Year of the Documentary." Predictably the critical discussion, as well as the marketing, of documentaries revolves almost exclusively around the subject matter; the films are ultimately valued on their political or social content. Rarely does a critic (aside from the best ones like Paul Arthur) discuss form and style in regards to documentaries, perhaps because so few documentarians pay attention to aesthetic matters themselves.

There are exceptions, of course. Werner Herzog's documentaries are as beautiful and mysterious as his fiction films. Errol Morris' best documentaries are audiovisual masterpieces in which form precedes, and ultimately creates, function. In 2003, I saw a fine documentary called "Rivers and Tides" about the artist Andy Goldsworthy. Goldsworthy creates temporary sculptures, works meticulously designed to exist only briefly, much like Buddhist sand mandalas. The director Thomas Riedelsheimer was faced with a challenge: can the permanency of film (as photography) capture the ephemeral nature of Goldsworthy's art (of course, Goldsworthy would not be a famous artist if his "temporary" works were not preserved forever in photographic books). Riedelsheimer may or may not have successfully resolved this tension, but it made for a damn fascinating study. In his newest documentary, "Touch the Sound" he conducts another intriguing investigation, this time exploring the synaesthetic qualities of film.

Protagonist Evelyn Glennie invites such an approach. Glennie is a Grammy award-winning percussionist who also happens to be deaf. When interviewed by reporters, she inevitably fields the question about how she hears the music. She "just does" and doesn't give any more thought to the matter. Like many artists, she prefers production and performance to self-analysis.

The film follows Glennie through several performances, though the primary focus is on a performance with musician Fred Frith. This impromptu gig occurs in a giant, abandoned warehouse where all sorts of strange devices, surfaces and corners promise a universe of heretofore untapped sounds. Glennie bangs away with pipes, hammers, sticks, her own fingers, and is as likely to be clanging a drum or an industrial guide wire or an aluminum sheet, all in the pursuit of new sounds.

Riedelsheimer repeats a visual theme of rippling waves: pennants and wheat fields flutter in the breeze, concentric circles of water radiate outward from a splash, sand blows in rills along the beach. If he cannot actually enable the viewer to "touch the sound", he can make the viewer "see" sound waves in various ways; this approach also helps locate Glennie's techno-performance firmly in the natural realm, a neat and satisfying juxtaposition. The DVD comes with both Dolby Surround and DTS Surround options, which might make it possible for home viewer with powerful bass speakers and understanding neighbors to "touch the sound" as well. Fortunately, Riedelsheimer doesn't try to pursue taste and smell in his quest; the only documentarian I know who ever came close to pulling off that synaesthetic sleight-of-hand is Epicurean nonpareil Les Blank ("Yum Yum Yum!")

As a child, Glennie didn't want to attend a school for the deaf, opting to continue in "mainstream" schools instead. At no point in the film, do we see her use sign language, and her homepage (www.evelyn.co.uk) makes no mention at all of her deafness. The film sidesteps any political issues surrounding such a decision, probably wise considering how heated the debate can be, as seen most recently in the protests at Gallaudet University over the election of a new president viewed by some as "not deaf enough" because she was, like Glennie, taught in mainstream schools and did not learn sign language until she was an adult. Though I am certain Glennie has to confront this issue regularly, she evinces no awareness of it in the film.

"Touch the Sound" is a formally sensitive documentary that stumbles only when it tries to be too precise. There is a schematic feeling to the "sound collages" that Riedelsheimer constructs throughout the movie, isolating each sound in a particular space in order to recreate the way Glennie explores the acoustics of each new environment she encounters. Perhaps her process is just too difficult to capture on film. That's a minor problem, though. The film also loses focus when it sidetracks for a superficial investigation of Glennie's childhood roots.

Neither of these flaws detracts much from this handsome and fascinating film. Evelyn Glennie is the star, but the camera work and sound design play equal attractions on the bill. Budding documentarians would do well to watch movies like this to understand just how important audiovisual design is in a non-fiction film. Just having an interesting subject might be enough to market a movie, but not to make the movie worth watching.

Video

The film is presented in its original 1.66:1 aspect ratio. The transfer is solid on all levels, if unspectacular. The colors don't really pop the way I'd like them to, but the image is sharp and free fro any debris.

Audio

The DVD is presented in Dolby Digital Surround and DTS Surround Sound. I do not have a DTS decoder, so I can't evaluate the differences between the two options. The audio mix on the transfer is clear and sharp. The music and the isolated sound effects both sound great.

Extras

A "Making of" documentary (23 min.) provides evidence of just how constructed documentaries are. Riedelsheimer acknowledges, for example, that the crew spent nearly two hours driving around New York in order to find a bridge that had just the right crack in it.

The DVD also includes Deleted Scenes (30 min.), a Theatrical Trailer, a Filmmaker Bio, and an Evelyn Glennie Bio.

Film Value

"Touch the Sound" is a worthy follow-up to "Rivers and Tides." Unfortunately, it only received a limited release in the USA, never expanding to more than nine screens during its run. We may in the age of the documentary now, but I wonder if documentary distribution has already bifurcated in the same manner as fiction feature distribution: a handful of titles get wide releases, the rest are relegated to the art-house ghetto. "Touch the Sound" was one of the best documentaries of 2005. Too bad so few people got to see it, but as we like to say around here, that's what make DVDs so great.