Gates of Heaven (1978)

If you remember, over a year ago I posted my thoughts on a few works by documentary filmmaker Errol Morris. I've been in a cinema funk lately, which explains my lack of posts, but I thought it'd be interesting to revisit some of these films now and capture my thoughts on them.

Gates of Heaven should be a simple movie. A man opens up a pet cemetery, which has its own ups and downs. Halfway through Morris profiles another man who owns a pet cemetery and maintains it along with his sons. Interviews with pet owners are interspersed throughout. Yet, in Morris' hands, something so easy and safe becomes so much more, which is a testament to the power of cinema and moreover, the documentary.

On a basic level, the movie frustrates me to no end. In more than 20 years of watching movies, I've become accustomed to easy answers, and I think we all have. Even a lot of the masters of cinema make their films this way without even thinking. Seeing as how the majority of people would see film not as an artform but as entertainment, this isn't a truly bad thing. Even for others, film does hold that innate quality that makes it an easy escape, and a lot of films are so much better being just that. But Gates of Heaven, like all of Errol Morris' work, doesn't do the work for you, doesn't lay everything on the table, doesn't hold your hand and guide you. It would be easy for him to shoot a scene and say "okay, here's a character and here's what they say, which makes you feel this way and makes you think this" and leave it at that. Cinema in the hands of Morris retains its basic neutrality and presents the subjects and events in a frank and unadorned manner, leaving the viewer to think his own thoughts and feel his own emotions.

While part of my brain rejects this approach, another part is stimulated like it never has been before and immediately goes to work. On a basic emotional level, this results in confusion, frustration and apathy. It leaves me with a feeling that the work is incomplete, that it doesn't do its job. Of course, it takes little thought to realize that those immediate emotion betray and that if anything, Gates of Heaven does its job far too well.

Morris leaves any judgement in the hands of his viewers, which can potentially be disastrous. But, for his films, this works perfectly and is the idea that the rest of the work hangs upon. In Gates of Heaven, I see characters so real and true, like I've rarely seen in cinema, even most documentaries. Look at Cal Harberts and his two sons, Danny and Philip. Philip is older and seems to be an overachiever, motivational tidbits falling out of his mouth as he sits surrounded by his trophies. Yet, we cannot fault him. Danny strikes me as more of an outcast, he prefers to spend his time playing guitar, watching television and learning as much as he can about his trade. And yet, we cannot fault him. Even though we don't see them together or hear them talk much about each other, we know they are brothers, we instantly see their dynamic. This only emerges from Morris' simple, respectful portraits.

If I needed an underlying theme to tie it all together, I would choose the idea of pets, obviously. Seeing the few pet owners interviewed is tragic, silly and heartbreaking all at once. It's easy to laugh at the whole concept, but the movie forces you to think about animals, about pets, maybe about your own pets and forces you to realize how much you actually care for them. This ties you to these people and if you didn't identify with them before, you definitely do now.

I know Roger Ebert is an ecstatic fan of Gates of Heaven, so I've been looking up his writings on the film. Given that Gates of Heaven offers no easy answers, it makes perfect sense to see it on his Sight & Sound choices alongside another notoriously infuriating film, 2001:A Space Odyssey.