Swedish enfant terrible Anna Odell uses personal experience in her films to dramatic real-life effect.
In 2009, she first made a name for herself with Unknown, Woman 2009-349701 (Okänd, kvinna 2009-349701), her final art school project, where she staged and filmed a documentary of a psychological breakdown and suicide attempt at Liljeholmsbron, a central bridge in Stockholm, to invite public discourse on mental illness and psychiatric practices in Sweden. In addition to incurring a fine and a conviction for violent resistance to police arrest, fraudulent practice and making a false alarm, Odell became the subject of media scrutiny and public debate.
DOXA at 20
Vancouver’s film festival opened my eyes to the beauty and power of documentary cinema. I’m forever grateful.
Dorothy Woodend is culture editor of The Tyee. Reach her here. SHARES On the eve of DOXA’s Documentary Film Festival’s 20th Anniversary, the festival’s former director of programming Dorothy Woodend, seen here in 2015 in front of a still from
Monsterman, reflects on the good, the bad and the kinda kooky of two decades of documentary cinema.
Photo courtesy of DOXA Documentary Film Festival.
Twenty years ago, documentary films were for nerds. Not cinema snobs, but even nerdier types turtleneck-wearing, herb-tea drinking, no-fun folks. The cinematic equivalent of bran, documentaries were for people who lectured about the Oxford comma, watched PBS exclusively and started every sentence with the words, “Well, actually…”