American Movie 1999

The funniest movie at the 1999 Sundance Film Festival was not Happy, Texas or Trick or any other high-profile comedy. In fact, in a year when the non-fiction entries were stronger than their fictional counterparts, the film that garnered the biggest guffaws was a documentary. American Movie, the side-splitting story of a determined Wisconsin filmmaker, had audiences rolling in the aisles with its colorful characters and wonderfully eccentric take on the American Dream.

If Edward D. Wood, Jr. had grown up in a Fargo-like setting, he probably would have turned out like Mark Borchardt. A 30-year-old father of three living in the Milwaukee suburb of Menominee Falls, Mark has been obsessively making movies since his early teens. With titles like The More the Scarier and I Blow Up, his oeuvre consists of ultra-low-budget horror shorts, filmed with the help of friends and family.

American Movie, a collaborative effort between director/cinematographer Chris Smith and producer/sound recordist Sarah Price, covers just over two troubled years in Borchardt's life. During that time, Mark attempts to film his magnum opus, a semi-autobiographical drama entitled Northwestern. Lacking funds, Mark decides the solution is to finish his uncompleted horror featurette Coven (which he pronounces like "woven"), sell 3,000 video copies, and use the money to shoot his feature. That Coven is an amateurish oddity of dubious merit doesn't seem to occur to the aspiring auteur.

The many characters we meet are truly memorable. Mark himself is a wired dynamo, a fast-talking obsessive who is blessed with an ability to rope others into his projects — whether on a manic high or a depressed low, he remains steadfastly focused on his films. Inspired not only by horror flicks like Dawn of the Dead and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but also by classics like The Seventh Seal, he is a beer-drinking, good-timing Midwesterner whose ambitions are as fierce as the Wisconsin winter, yet whose talents have more in common with that state's other claim to fame: cheese.

His best friend, Mike, is a long-haired stoner type who sports tie-dyed Led Zeppelin T-shirts and plays neo-classical heavy metal on his acoustic guitar. A slow-talking acid casualty, he would be a completely sad figure were it not for his good-natured personality. Mike spouts some of the most amusing dialogue of the film. When told by Mark that the "original" song he's singing is, in fact, a Black Sabbath tune with just one word changed, Mike replies that he had to get inspiration from somewhere, insisting that it's impossible to simply "make ideas up."

And then there's Uncle Bob. Though he supposedly has almost $300,000 in the bank, Mark's withered uncle lives like a miser in a run-down trailer. Reluctantly coming on board the Northwestern project as an executive producer, he lends Mark a few thousand dollars while constantly offering his negative opinion of the undertaking. For all his complaining, though, it's clear that he is truly fond of Mark and appreciates his company, even as he seems fairly dubious about his prospects as a filmmaker.

Smith and Price do an excellent job of bringing us into Mark's world, providing a never-less-than-fascinating look at a truly independent filmmaker. It is to their credit that the film never mocks Mark or the community of kooky characters that surround and support him. To be sure, these characters' misadventures are frequently hilarious, resulting in a documentary as mirthfully entertaining and heartfelt as Roger & Me or Sherman's March. But it's impossible not to be moved by this story of a driven man and the people who, because of their love of and belief in him, try to help make his dreams come true.