The Wolkpack is Equal Parts Fascination and Horror

THE WOLFPACK (2015)

Directed by Crystal Moselle

Magnolia Pictures, 89 minutes, R (language)

* * * *

What if Being There's Chance the Gardener was real? And what if there were seven Chances, all from the same family, each brainwashed with some very odd religious beliefs? Documentary filmmaker Crystal Moselle probes these questions in her fascinating look inside New York City's Angulo family, and the answers are probably not what you'd expect.

The film's title conjures tales and cinematic treatments of feral children such as François Truffaut's The Wild Child (1969), Werner Herzog's The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser  (1974), or Geraldo Olivares' Among Wolves (2010). Most of the cases of children raised by animals and/or without human interaction are mythical (Romulus and Remus), undocumented (Hauser), or hoaxes (The Ostrich Boy, the Syrian Gazelle Boy, Ramu, Amala and Kamala), but several seem to be accurate. One could raise questions about The Wolfpack as a title. The seven Angulo siblings—six brothers and a sister, aged 16 to 24—are not feral, though their sole human contact is each other and they do indeed exhibit pack behavior. Family life is dictated by paterfamilias Oscar, a Peruvian-born convert to Hare Krishna who descends deeper into mysticism (psychosis?) after his marriage to Susanne, an American-born Flower Child.  Oscar comes to view himself as a holy man and guardian against the world's impurities, evils, and materialism. His children are given Sanskrit names such as Bhagavan, Makunda, and Govinda. In addition, they are home schooled, forbidden to cut their hair, and confined to a shabby Lower East Side apartment they exit only once a year (and some years not at all). Oddly, though, Oscar does not forbid television or DVDs, thus the children wile away the time with repeated viewings of blockbusters such as Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, and The Dark Knight Returns. They also produce verbatim scripts and faithfully re-enact the scenes with homemade costumes, props, and scenery. The Angulo children may not have had the holiest of outside input, but they do grow up wildly creative, imaginative, and resourceful.

This is all well and good until the boys reach their teens and Borg-like group-think clashes with emerging individualism. But, like Chance the Gardener, the only social skills they possess are those they infer from TV and film. The first to sneak out of the apartment quickly attracts the attention of police and social workers when he pops in and out of New York shops wearing a Mike Myers mask because he was afraid people would be alarmed by his appearance! When the lads are allowed to go to an actual cinema for the first time, they hit the streets dressed in matching black suits and sunglasses like the ensemble cast of Reservoir Dogs.

Can such children integrate into mainstream society? How will Oscar react as personalities bloom and tresses are trimmed? These are among the unanswered questions; other include: How does this family support itself? Why is Susanne so passive? What do the kids think of Oscar's religious views? How did Moselle find this family and why did it agree to be filmed? It is intimated that there has been abuse—and Oscar is prone to drunkenness—just as it is implied that Susanne might be brainwashed and that daughter Krisna [sic] is developmentally disabled, but these things are never explained. In addition, the time sequencing is quite confusing in places and it's very hard to distinguish between the boys who, for most of the film, look alike and do not (yet) possess individual identities.

Moselle opts for voyeuristic filmmaking within a non-judgmental frame. That's understandable to some degree, as one certainly would not wish to get in the way of such intriguing material. On the other hand, Moselle's approach makes for rocky viewing on a meta level. In essence, we are watching Moselle watch the Angulos who are watching each other, gauging Oscar's reaction, and (occasionally) glimpse the outside world. As a five-times removed audience, though, it's hard not to desire more explanation and resolution. Desire it, but don't expect it. Let it be enough to bear witness to an extraordinary family. You will be fascinated and horrified, hopeful and angry, joyful and sad—probably in equal measures.

Rob Weir

Overlooked Films: Foxcatcher

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FOXCATCHER (2014)

Directed by Bennett Miller

Sony Pictures Classics, 134 minutes, R (Language, violence)

* * *

Do you recall any of the four medals won by US wrestlers at the 1988 Olympics in Seoul (1 gold, 1 silver, 2 bronze)? Of course you don't! You can, however, go to the head of the mat if you've ever heard of Dave and Mark Schultz (who won gold medals in 1984), and–unless you've seen Foxcatcher–you get a golden kneepad if you remember that a du Pont heir murdered Dave in 1996. I mean no disrespect to the athletes, but the reality is that in the United States wrestling is only marginally more in the public eye than polo or biathlon. In many ways, that's a major point of the movie Foxcatcher.

It opens in 1986, just after Mark (Channing Tatum) won a gold at wrestling's world championship in Budapest in the 82 kg division. Back home, fame such as that got you a $20 speaker's fee for high school motivation speeches! Enter John Eleuthère du Pont (Steve Carrell), an addle-brained billionaire living on a sprawling horse farm with his domineering mother, Jean (Vanessa Redgrave) and harboring dreams (delusions?) of reinventing himself as an über patriot and wrestling guru. He's willing to sink some of his considerable resources into making the US wrestling team a symbol of national pride and proceeds to open a state-of-the-art training facility on the manor lands, which he dubs "Foxcatcher." Recruiting Mark to train there is his first coup, but the big fish is Dave (Mark Ruffalo), considered the nation's best coach. Soon Foxcatcher is the de facto Olympic training center for wrestlers. After all, what obscure sportsman could resist the patronage of a sugar daddy, or the lure of living on a sylvan estate?

Foxcatcher is, at heart, about young athletes caught up in a rich sociopath's visions, whims, coke-fueled fantasies, psychotic storms, and barely repressed homosexual yearnings. Du Pont was that special breed of monster that only obscene wealth can produce. As we quickly see, he is a bully, an egoist, and an idiot who pontificates upon things about which he knows nothing–and that's especially the case with wrestling. Even he eventually sees this–especially after Mark leaves the facility and the US wrestling team fails to capture public attention or win a lot of star-spangled glory. When he ultimately murders Dave Schultz, it's because Dave's very competence, popularity, and kindness remind him of what a waste his life has been.  (John du Pont died in prison.)

Director Bennett Miller has probed offbeat characters before, most notably in Capote (2005) and Moneyball (2011). The film's greatest revelation, however, is Steve Carell's acting. Though known as a comic, he gives Chevy Chase a run for the money in the Least Funny Comedian category. If Foxcatcher is any indication, Carell should shift to drama. He rightly garnered a Best Supporting Actor Oscar. His is a nuanced performance that makes us alternatively pity and loathe du Pont. Carell also displays a potpourri of emotions, each convincing within their contexts. Ruffalo is solid as Dave, and gets special kudos for displaying a blue-collar ethos that combines the right balance between being respectful, tough, protective, prodding, and likable. Tatum is less successful as Mark. He does naivety well, but overall is wooden and flat.

Tatum's performance is a weak link, though Foxcatcher has other flaws. Liberties are taken with sequencing, especially in the last 20 minutes, which confusingly elide about 7 years of time. The yes men around du Pont are largely cardboard cutouts and there's too much testosterone on screen. Redgrave seems to have been hired to add gravitas to the cast, as her role is little more than a cameo. It is, however, positively robust compared to the shallow presence of Sienna Miller as Dave's wife, Nancy, who mostly remind us what a great family man Dave is. Miller is an enormously underrated actress, so we must give Golden Piggy Hooves to screenwriters E. Max Frye and Dan Futterman for giving her so little to do.  

The film won a Palme d'Or in 2014, but grossed just $15 million against a budget of $24 million. This is odd, as Foxcatcher is an excellent look at how an unhinged individual finally tumbles. Foxcatcher is certainly worth a rental. You might not change your mind about wrestling, but you'll walk away with newfound respect for Steve Carell.

Rob Weir