BRIGHT LEAVES

There is a wonderful warmth to Ross McElwee's documentaries. Going on a film journey with him feels like fitting snugly into the corduroy pocket of a travelling companion, and going wherever he takes you. Calling his films "autobiographical documentaries," McElwee tends to wander from his focus, whether it be the tobacco industry in Bright Leaves, or a Civil War general in Sherman's March. On his tangents, he muses about things, life, and whatnot, and includes vignettes with his friends and family, while narrating the film with droll humor. It is these touches that make his documentaries such a pleasure.

In Bright Leaves, McElwee investigates the bigger picture of the tobacco industry in North Carolina, his home state, and the folks that live there. In the smaller picture though, he reminisces about his father, who was a beloved doctor, and his son, who is growing up in front of the camera's lens. He checks in on friends who are having a hard time kicking their smoking habit. He talks to a tobacco farmer that staunchly feels that her tobacco farm has no direct correlation to her beloved mother dying of cancer from smoking just the week before. He catches up with former patients of his father, who wax poetic about the man who they considered as a friend.

McElwee comes across a 1950 film called Bright Leaf, starring Gary Cooper, Lauren Bacall, and Patricia Neal, which he and his cousin believe is based on the McElwee family lore. You see, Ross has something of a personal investment in his research of the tobacco industry. His own great-grandfather was a tobacco baron that created a brand called "Durham Bull". Sound familiar? Well, a competitor supposedly stole his recipe, renamed it Bull Durham, became rich off it, and pretty much destroyed Ancestor McElwee's career and potential fortune. The successful guy happened to be someone named Duke (as in the university!).

The mishaps and humorous asides give Bright Leaves its charm. A yippy little dog chases McElwee as he wanders across the screen, "ruining the shot." A film historian does his interview while insisting that he push McElwee around on a wheelchair. McElwee's ex-schoolteacher Charleen once again makes an appearance, if only to mock Ross for growing up in the equivalent of the Duke mansion's outhouse. (At the screening, McElwee jokingly said that the Sundance Film Festival blames McElwee's Sherman's March for singlehandedly encouraging thousands of would-be filmmakers to make autobiographical documentaries.)

Bright Leaves ends up being about more than a controversial industry that supports one state's economy. It is about pride in a region's identity, despite the fact that tobacco is, in a way, enslaving and killing the very people who are reaping its rewards. But the film, at the same time, isn't overly critical. McElwee even admits in one scene how alluring and frankly erotic smoking is, especially in social situations. Many people he talks to want to quit, but sheepishly admit that they love smoking too much. Just as North Carolina will always be a part of Ross McElwee's identity, it is also as if the state itself will never be able to shake tobacco from its blood.