Film

(Do) Talk To Strangers

By lzvonek

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

If you are going travel across the country by your lonesome with only a video camera and car in hopes of gathering footage for your next documentary, you better: a.) be unrelenting in your pursuit to capture America’s stories, even if it means trekking deep into the woods with a lonely war veteran who admits Post Traumatic Stress Disorder caused the demise of all his relationships with friends and family; b.) show sympathy, not shock, when a teenager informs you she is expecting a child with her 61-year-old boyfriend; and c.) get used to eating McDonalds.

When Nina Davenport, a curly-haired documentary filmmaker living in New York City, set out on her journey across the United States two months after the Twin Towers toppled, she had but one goal: capture a diverse range of reactions from a diverse range of people. Afraid to fly home to her apartment that overlooked Ground Zero (she was working on a freelance gig in California at the time of the disaster), Davenport instead took to her car that, aside from cheap motels, would be her home for the next six weeks.

“I am genuinely curious about people,” says the animated brunette at the recent screening of the final result, a well-edited documentary titled Parallel Lines, held at East Village’s Two Boots Pioneer Theater. Ironically, the screening, part of the Woodstock Film Festival, is actually the first time New Yorkers have had the opportunity to see the film that’s already made its way around the world. “This is why you make friends,” jokes Davenport, who is an energetic frenzy of hugs and kisses as she greets the many who would pack the theater to capacity.

A beer and pizza Q & A follows the film, and Davenport informally perches herself on a stool in the cozy, psychedelic-like room beneath the theater’s pizza place. She happily answers questions about her third documentary, part of an already distinguished resume for someone only in her 30s. What’s her secret? “I tend to ask too many questions,” she says.

Her unyielding curiosity naturally attracted her to a few rather eccentric characters in Parallel Lines. There’s General Bob, who claims he runs the war in Afghanistan. There’s a Missouri man who picks up cans and eats rabbits for a living because he’s single and, well, he can. There’s the painfully hilarious Grand Canyon park ranger who drops words like “endearing” and “splendor” so many times you wonder what happy pill he’s taking.

But the documentary proves to be as heart-wrenching as it is humorous. “There is no love,” insists one San Diego woman. Another young woman from Oklahoma admits that she is just living day-to-day ever since her boyfriend ran out. “I don’t dream of the future anymore,” she says softly. By traveling to those infinitesimal places on the map, Davenport is able to gather stories that would never find their way to CNN.

The stories radiate with a soupcon of humor, reality, sadness, hope and love, thanks to Davenport’s brilliant knack for knowing when to remain silent and when to gently prod for more. The main trick to getting your subjects to divulge their darkest secrets, she says, is not to go about it in an intimidating Can I film you? sort of way, but rather, just start filming. But toodling around the country talking to random strangers seems a little dangerous for a young woman by herself. “I made it out alive,” Davenport says laughing. In other words: Don’t try this at home.

Ironically, Parallel Lines has received the least welcoming in the United States. Perhaps some view 9/11 stories outdated in 2005. Despite the less-than-friendly interest, though, Davenport has proved that she can hold her own in the overpopulated independent film world. Her first film, Hello Photo, followed her travels throughout India and won a smattering of awards at international film festivals. Davenport’s second film, Always a Bridesmaid, was a lighthearted and personal look at love’s frustrations. With a fourth documentary on the way that, like Parallel Lines, is being funded by the BBC, things are right on track. But the seemingly indefatigable director admits that after traveling across the country gathering footage for Parallel Lines – 8,000 miles during which Davenport talked on her cell phone “a lot” to stay sane – “I totally collapsed when I got home. I couldn’t even look at the footage for six months.”

For more information on the Woodstock Film Festival click here for their website WFF