Visions of Eight

The summary at the introduction says it all: 'it's not a summary of sports'. This is the kind of production that is willing to rewrite, rather reinvent, the shape of sports docummentaries. Far from the focus on results of the almanac-format production, this new vision of the tension of obsession, of the muscle stress, of the jump of joy, of the tears of defeat and, in short, the beauty of the design sports can provide, brings us the Expressionist angle the Olympics hides in the shadows of the action that TV images will never be able to catch. More than a masterpiece, each of the eight episodes should be treated as a directing class.

If you want a sports documentary filled with numbers and facts, this is not your film. This is an olympics movie made by artists. Rather than delving into the amount of medals a country or person won or what records were broken, Visions of Eight chooses to delve into abstract and personal aspects of the games: the anticipation before they begin, the human form, the effects of losing, the obsession with winning. Visions of Eight serves as an artists interpretation of these concepts with the games serving only as the backdrop to explore those themes. If that sounds like something you'd like, there's no movie better than this one.

What an incredibly lame documentary. Seven of the eight film makers would have you believe that this particular Olympics was notable for...pole vaulting! Or weight lifting! Only John Schlesinger, to his eternal credit, deals with the 800 lb terrorist in the room. It's as if a team of reporters were covering the unveiling of a new built bridge and in the middle of their coverage the bridge collapses and all but one reporter blithely ignore it.. Simply amazing. And depressing. C minus.

The 1972 Summer Olympic Games, in many ways, were the end of an era. Since 1936, the IOC had required each Local Organizing Committee to submit a documentary film as an historical record of their Games. After Munich, less emphasis was placed upon this and more upon Bud Greenspan's independent efforts. Only one-eighth of this film was directed by a West German; today, an American helms them all.

Munich '72 was the last occasion on which Olympic security could be said to be at all relaxed. The face of terrorism, at least before 9/11, bears the stocking mask of the Black September lookout at 31 Connollystrasse in the Olympic Village. John Schlesinger of "Midnight Cowboy" fame, assigned to film a British marathon runner, incorporates the tragedy into his mini-film as a distraction to the absurdly detached athlete.

After 1936 they all were imitating Leni Riefenstahl. Here, Japanese director Kon Ichikawa, filming his second Olympics, rings a change on the German's pioneering use of slow motion, using three dozen Arriflexes and four miles of film to turn the 100-meter dash into a quarter-hour examination of tortured lungs and leg muscles.

Producer David Wolper's take on this film was that it could have been better and was greatly improved in the editing room. The same could be said of any slice-of-life documentary, sporting or otherwise. The voice-over narrator sounds a lot like David Perry, who would soon become ubiquitous as Bud Greenspan's offscreen announcer. For almost the final time, feature directors got to play documentarian all those years ago.

Here's a very unusual view of the Olympics. It's not the vast number of cameramen involved; that's a given with the Olympics. It's that this movie is credited to eight directors, all of them distinguished: Kon Ichikawa -- back after TOKYO OLYMPIAD; Milos Forman; Claude Lelouch; Yuriy Ozerovnn; Michael Pfleghar; John Schlesinger; and Mai Zetterling. Each of them speaks a brief introduction to his - or her -- segment; and then there's music by Henry Mancini, for more orotund and distinguished than his usual sprightly, rag tunes.

There have been brilliant Olympic movies, and annoying ones, and movies that seemed to be collections that sort of vaguely showed you the exertions while muttering platitudes. The choices made in the production of this one strive valiantly to live up to those ideals, and I think it succeeds.

It's dedicated to the eleven athletes murdered at the Olympics.