By Ben Wright
On one hand a mockumentary, or docudrama or maybe even a docufiction and a hilarious dark humor piece on the other, “Woodpecker” combines laughs, fact and fiction expertly.
The film, presented by the Lucas Theatre’s Southern Circuit Tour of Filmmakers and part of Savannah’s Alternative Cinema Weekend, premiered Jan. 12 at the Lucas Theatre to a modest yet appreciative crowd. The director and co-writer of the film, Alex Karpovsky, was supposed to be in attendance, but was snowbound in Charlotte, N.C.
Nevertheless, the screening continued, and, without the filmmaker’s insight, left the audience wondering what, exactly, was real, and what wasn’t.
“Woodpecker” begins deeply rooted in fact, telling the story of the ivory-billed woodpecker, the largest species of woodpecker in North America, supposedly extinct since the 1940s. A possible sighting near the dying town of Brinkley, Ark. ignites the passions of the apparently robust birding community in the U.S.
Suddenly, the town, described by a Chamber of Commerce employee as almost “third-world” has an answer to their prayers of redemption with the Lord God bird (taken by some as a religious sign, but the name comes from people saying, “Lord God! Look at the size of that bird!”).
Birders, conservationists and eco-tourists descended on the town, which quickly rebranded itself around the ivory-bill, with gift shops, hotels, and a $25 ivory-billed woodpecker haircut. The bird’s existence, however hinges on a grainy, out of focus four-second video and various eyewitnesses.
Enter Jonny (Jon Hyrnes), a housepainter and amateur poet who comes to Brinkley with his newfound, nearly mute friend from Portland, Ore., Wesley (Wesley Yang), determined to be the one who finds the bird.
After reading Connect Savannah’s interview with Karpovsky, I confidently told my friend in the seat next to me that Jonny and Wesley are the only scripted parts of the film.
As the film entered its second act, I became doubtful.
The story of Brinkley is enough for a cut-and-dry documentary in itself, but as Jonny and Wes’ story unfolds, the film becomes something much more. Karpovsky expertly weaves actors into the film (not just Jonny and Wes) to give the film a narrative structure.
It’s hard to find an antagonist in a documentary about a bird, but Karpovsky does deftly with the introduction of Brinkley’s duck-hunting lobby, who can no longer hunt in the now federally-protected bayou. The hunters hang around in the wings, occasionally popping up for an interview, but are enough of a presence to add to the film’s narrative structure.
It’s far too easy to make comparisons to Christopher Guest’s films (“Best in Show,” “Waiting for Guffman”) when reviewing fake documentaries. While Karpovsky retains the best elements of Guest’s films—the bumbling protagonist, ridiculous statements said with deadly seriousness, an almost religious conviction to the task at hand—there’s an extra dimension to “Woodpecker”: reality. “Best in Show” lampoons the dog show circuit by creating a fake dog show and populating it with actors. “Woodpecker” isn’t a send-up of birding or the town of Brinkley.
It’s using a very real place with a very real controversy (deemed “Peckergate” by hardcore birders) and creates a new narrative that blurs the lines between fiction and reality. Much like eponymous subject of the movie, the narrative exists in a murky realm of possible veracity.
The film, like any documentary, cuts between one-on-one interviews and more narrative scenes. Just as the gas begins to run out on a scene, the screen fades to black and starts the cycle again. This gives the film an almost amateur quality, but the expertise of the storytelling prevents it from falling into that trap.
It’s impossible to delve into Jonny’s story without ruining it, but, suffice to say that his obsession is both his downfall and redemption.
As the movie closes with Jonny, head painted in a crude likeness of the ivory-bill’s crest, body covered in glued-on goose down, reciting stilted poetry about the elusive Lord God bird, it’s easy to laugh, but the nagging suspicions about what really happened and what didn’t last a lot longer than the gags.
