Derrida (2002) Reviews

• If you want to gawk at Derrida, like a tourist, then check out this video.

  grad_comm2007-10-31

  If you've begun reading Derrida for the first time, there is nothing in this video for you. If you've come out on the other side of reading Derrida after a long time, there is nothing in this video for you. Then why watch it? Because it is a document of a man who remains--and will remain--one of the most important philosophers of the modern era. He is gone now, but if you've never seen him you have the opportunity in this video to look at him. This video is not the Cliff notes to a corpus of work. It is, instead, a look into the public and private life of a man who, like everyone of us, remains a mystery to strangers. And it is a dirty look, a pornographic eye, indeed, that does the looking. The creators are like groupies at a rock show, the ones that manage to weasel back stage passes. They know not enough to ask smart questions, ones that would make Derrida think. So instead, they follow the man around like stalkers, pointing their video camera into his private life: We watch, as did they, Derrida put jam on his toast, talk about his cat, walk through his house, walk through the street. It is as though the video makers were simply in awe of the fact that the man lives! The same video makers/groupies/stalkers made a video about/on/addressed to/following the cultural critic, Zizek. Similar result, except the latter looked an awful lot like promotional matter. And make no doubt, the co-creator of this video has said as much: "There is a market for these videos," she said at the screening of Zizek in Amherst. Pornographer indeed. In short there is nothing in this movie that you need to see. But you do get to see everything. Derrida is gone now, but he once was alive. You can find him in his books, but if you want to gawk at him, then check out this video.

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• Disaster Avoided

  Au-Cinema2003-07-02

  This could have been a real disaster, and even though the movie triggered a couple of cringes, it wasn't the expected trainwreck. "Derrida" was not too much of a waste. Thinking is a very difficult subject for a documentary. When filmmakers decide they want to present a great thinker, they are presented with a difficult decision: should they make a straightforward documentary concerned only with transmitting knowledge, or should they use the form to reflect the content of the thinker's work? Is accessiblity the goal of a documentary? And how much can we dilute for accessiblity's sake? I think this is one of the few cases where striking a balance between a dichotomy doesn't work. In "Derrida" the directors were trying to experiment with form and create a new audience for Derrida's work. They wanted to document Derrida's thinking. They wanted to archive the man's presense and present Derrida to a new audience. However, they felt that using the standard documentary/biography format would make Derrida's work superficially accessible. They didn't want to commit such an insult. Yet, they were not willing to alienate the audience. Thus, "Derrida" only registers as a lukewarm essay. The directors took an approach that is sold on today's market as "Self-reflexivity, the dummy's guide to artsy." "Derrida" is a series of vignettes where Derrida explains his relationship to the camera and the process by which his presence is recorded. It is a total exercise in metadiscourse, and unfortunately, this theme provides plenty of stupid irritating gimmicks with which "Derrida" proves not your standard documentary but your undergraduate film school festival The rewarding aspects of this film are not the formal experiments or anything relating to the fact that Derrida is presented as a moving image, but rather watching Derrida speak about the camera, the archive or the image. There are some excellent shots of Derrida at work. We witness his careful footwork in the field of discourse, and the director chooses the very potent passages to outline Derrida's duties as performer for no one and the role of the filmmaker in using Derrida's words to present her story. However, the director tells no story. The film offers very little beyond problematizing the roles of the actors in this production of "Derrida." And, I think what was presented would be best preserved in an essay than the series of vignettes called "Derrida."

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• Terrible

  markobroadhead2010-04-18

  I'll do my best, but nothing can really prepare you for the terribleness of this documentary. You can see Derrida squirm under the facile or pretentious questions posed by the interviewer. Add to this, there are three cameras filming at the same time; frequently when Derrida is in a small room, so that the cameras spend most of the time filming each other. This puts Derrida on the back foot (to use a cricketing term). They fill out the rest of the documentary with footage of him walking or spreading butter on his toast. Quotes are read out from his books that mainly relate to autobiography, but even this simple task is messed up with poor delivery.

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• Only the look and feel of Deconstruction

  dyske2002-10-28

  A documentary can never be anything other than a director's interpretation of the subject. Making a documentary about a philosopher is a particularly difficult proposition; with most other subjects, we welcome and enjoy varying interpretations, but, with philosophy, we tend to resist variance, because the very aim of philosophy, at least until Post-Structuralists came along, has always been to arrive at the Truth. The challenge of a filmmaker here is that either you properly understand the philosopher, or you may potentially embarrass yourself, though, for the audience, either way could be interesting. "Derrida", a documentary by the established filmmaker, Kirby Dick, and a former student of Jacques Derrida, Amy Ziering Kofman, attempts to deconstruct the idea of biography itself, but it fails to do so. It takes only the trappings of deconstruction, stripped of its objectives, and applies it as an editorial gimmick by constantly reminding the audience of the film's own awareness of itself. It frequently steps back in an effort to show its self-awareness, but it actually deconstructs nothing. For example, we see Derrida watching himself being interviewed, and later we see him watching this very footage, thereby creating the effect of two facing mirrors with infinite reflections. The objective of deconstruction is to de-center, that is, to identify the center of the argument--or of the proposed truth--that it relies on in order to make its case. You may argue here that I have just made a logocentric statement by defining what deconstruction is, that I have just centered the definition of deconstruction (note the appearance here of stepping back); you are right (and I'm leaving it at that, because I'm only a hack philosopher.). The film did not succeed in de-centering anything; not the philosopher, the medium, the filmmakers themselves, nor the film itself. Throughout the film, the narrator reads excerpts from his books against the backdrop of abstract footage of Derrida's face and his surroundings. This effectively makes Derrida the chief story-teller of the film. Instead of presenting the filmmakers' interpretations, they hide behind the power of his words, taking no chances at misinterpretation. Derrida is involuntarily made to be the center that secures and stabilizes the film. Ironically, this film that supposedly tries to explore deconstructionism and apply its tools to the medium of filmmaking finds a secure center in Derrida, and he is left un-deconstructed. We can feel the insecurity of the filmmakers in often not knowing what to ask their subject. Derrida, out of his affection for the filmmaker, tries hard to turn Kofman's dull questions into something more interesting. The camera, in effect, takes on the perspective of someone who adores him like a rock star. If the film were aware of its own insecurity, it would have been more interesting. Instead, it simply hides behind its own reverence and awe of the famous philosopher. One way to achieve this deconstruction would have been to hire multiple filmmaking crews where each goes off in its own direction, and presents a 20 minute piece each. The chances are, each will draw a very different picture of Derrida. By presenting them in sequence, the audience will wonder who Derrida really is, and they will inevitably question the process of documentary filmmaking itself, thereby deconstructing not only the idea of Derrida, but also the idea of documentary. Although I have always been an admirer of Ryuichi Sakamoto, his music in this movie was superfluous. The power of his music attached unnecessary, and often inappropriate, emotional values to the images of Derrida. I can't see any justification for emotionally manipulating the audience in this film, unless it was to deconstruct the use of music in film, which it did not. Towards the end of the movie, Derrida tells Amy Ziering Kofman that this will be a good autobiography for her. It should have been, but unfortunately it isn't a biography for either Derrida or Kofman. What this movie is to Derrida's philosophy is analogous to what music video is to a piece of music; the imagery is only superficially juxtaposed to his ideas. It is no more than a pretty way to listen to his words. One redeeming quality of this movie was that I got to see and hear him speak for the first time. After all, I'm a sucker for fame too. If I made a documentary about him, I'm sure I would have been just as nervous and insecure, if not more. In that sense, I have to praise the filmmakers for attempting.

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• "Derrida" is a wonder

  cholbrooke2003-02-06

  I've never written a review on this site, mostly because I find that most reviews are fair and well-meaning that, for the most part, aim to get at the root of the film itself. However, I was compelled to write something about "Derrida," because, for whatever reason, reviewers of the film have largely ignored the filmmakers' intent and, even worse, in some cases, used their review as a platform to air pent-up grievances about this celebrated thinker. Simply put, "Derrida" is a wonder: a disarming, captivating film that alchemizes a seemingly un-filmable subject--the daily life, travels, and thoughts of a brilliant philosopher--into a convincing, wholly cinematic portrait. As the above reviewers suggest, this is no bio-pic. There is no omniscient, James Earl Jones voiceover here. The film doesn't attempt to teach deconstruction, nor does it offer any Ken Burns-like, definitive world view. Instead, co-directors Kirby Dick and Amy Ziering Kofman follow the trail blazed by Frederick Wiseman and the Maysles Brothers--cinema verite pioneers who recognized that voiceover, forced narrative arcs, and easy psychological explanations of character often distort and dilute the truth of a person or event. As the Maysles brothers did in "Salesman" and "Grey Gardens," among other films, Dick and Kofman spent years with their subject, slowly gaining the trust of this notoriously camera-shy man, following him without a narrow agenda, and open to whatever occurred in front of them. In the process, Dick and Kofman successfully capture unguarded moments and unexpected events--including quiet breakfasts, intimate conversations about his family, and revelatory interviews -which, ultimately, challenge our preconceptions of Derrida, while deepening our fascination with his mind and life. Years from now, when Derrida has left us, it will be easy to present a Crossfire-like discussion on the merits and value of his thinking. If inclined, one could even dredge up shady details of his past. However, I would strongly argue that nobody will able to provide the kind of illumination that "Derrida" offers--an unfiltered and tantalizing look at one of the most creative and influential minds of today.

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