Jon Bois Interview Introduction First Draft

Complete first draft for Filmmaker Magazine.

Over the past eight years, Jon Bois has risen to become one of the key pioneers of documentaries made for the Internet. As the creative director of Secret Base, the YouTube channel of the sports blog network SB Nation, his work across three series — Pretty Good, Chart Party, and now Dorktown, which is co-written by Alex Rubenstein — takes often unconventional and lesser-known sports stories as a jumping off point for increasingly ambitious yet deftly handled portraits of some of Americana's most crucial mainstays. By focusing equally on the minutiae of statistics, the highs and lows of a game, and the many human dramas in sports teams and the cities that surround them, Bois and Rubenstein establish an aching and potent investment in the narratives that they craft, finding continuity and suspense in what might otherwise come across as the arbitrary nature of a career or season. Paired with this attention to narrative construction is Bois's facility as a director, crafting a distinct aesthetic through a combination of voiceover, Muzak, stock footage, and a form of animation generated by placing images and charts in Google Maps and virtually flying around them. These abstract spaces become loci of both familiarity and surprise, the emotional tenor of a moment often determined by a sudden appearance of a visual element that would be mundane in any other circumstance but whose meaning has been made clear by Bois and Rubenstein's pre-established context. While Bois and Rubenstein's work has been deservedly feted since at least his first major Dorktown series The History of the Seattle Mariners in 2020, it wasn't until the second half of 2022 that they began referring to their projects as films, with two features that vividly represent two extremes of their craft. The first was Section 1, a fleet 42-minute piece that covers the events of a single date, December 19, 1976, where loss of life due to a plane crash was avoided due to a lopsided Baltimore Colts-Pittsburgh Steelers game, which emphasized the urgency of the situation and the heroism/sports prowess of both teams. In contrast, The People You're Paying to Be in Shorts is a sprawling two-and-a-half-hour saga chronicling the 2011-12 Charlotte Bobcats, the worst team in NBA history despite being owned by the one and only Michael Jordan, which unfolds in arguably the funniest and most absurd video that Bois has ever made. Both amply capture the peculiar, singular skill, joy, and pathos of one of the most exciting documentary filmmakers working today.

in water First Draft

Complete first draft for In Review Online.

As the star of Hong Sang-soo has improbably grown, the traditional (and often erroneous) stereotypes lobbed against his films have stayed stuck in the mud. None of these are fair, strictly speaking, impressions largely drawn from loglines and ignoring the often-wild differences that arise between his films, especially those in this current period inaugurated sometime around 2018. in water [sic], which unusually (but fittingly) premiered in the Berlinale Encounters section rather than in his customary competition slot, provides a stellar example of how deceptively flexible his approach has become even as his recent concerns about inspiration and creation of art remain constant. At only 61 minutes, in water is Hong's shortest feature yet, and like his other mid-length film from just two years prior, 2021's Introduction (in the Berlinale competition), it stars Shin Seok-ho — the fresh-faced youth who has risen to provide a compelling contrast to past Hongian men — as Seoung-mo, an actor who seeks to direct a short film for the first time. In order to do so, he travels to the rocks of Jeju Island with his friends — Nam-hee, an actress (Kim Seung-yun), and Sang-guk, a former filmmaker (Ha Seong-guk) — in tow. Without a script, they intend to spend a week at a rented house, all paid for by Seoung-mo, as he searches for script material on the beach and in the alleys. Even more than other recent Hong films, its presentation is deceptively spare, with much of the on-screen conversation coming out of two people getting to know each other while the would-be director sits pensively, pondering the surroundings. Even more so than The Novelist's Film, in water explicitly takes Hong's way of artmaking as its raison d'être; he mentioned that he shot the film in a week himself, and his increasing shouldering of almost all production responsibilities mirrors the skeleton crew on display here. So, it's fascinating to see how, if not his mindset, then his process is imparted onto someone on the opposite end of the spectrum in terms of life and experience; while Hong has worked at an unceasing pace, Seoung-mo describes himself as scared, only now finally breaking out of acting to pursue his own inspiration. This perspective does not feel like an imposition: unlike Introduction, there is no adult balance to counterbalance the faces of youth, but the continually adrift director, reflective beyond his years, carves out a world-weary niche all the same. Getting deep into a review of in water without mentioning the film's greatest gambit, shooting most of the film (every exterior and a majority of the interiors) out of focus, might seem foolish, but it does not (and should not) capture everything that distinguishes this film. But it is constantly beautiful, and purposefully inconsistent in the degree to which the shots are out of focus, a slight change in gradation that becomes especially noticeable as the characters are placed or move closer or farther away from the camera. There are certain "pay-offs," but the blur remains principally compelling in its reflection of Hong's own recent eye troubles, which have overlapped with his decision to lens all his films himself. It serves as a constant reminder of his presence, yet one that does not detract from the film in the slightest. Instead, it serves to further essentialize the nigh-archetypal nature of his three young people. At their core, specific characterization matters little in the face of what Hong is interested in exploring, and the depth of feeling, arising from questions relating to a belief in that which exists both within and apart of one's perception, is conveyed as masterfully as ever.