Frederick Wiseman, who turned 84 this week, is one of the great heroes of independent filmmaking. Since 1967, and without once relinquishing his right to final cut, Wiseman has directed 38 documentary features and two filmed theatrical pieces. His films cost next to nothing by Hollywood standards, and few have required crews of more than a dozen people, production and postproduction combined.
Also significant are the film’s references to the distant future. The final scene records a lecture in one of the science halls, where a professor speculates about what technology will be like in another millennium, “if we make it that far.” In another sequence, coming shortly before the climax, Wiseman peeks in on rehearsals for a campus production of Our Town. The scene being rehearsed shows Thornton Wilder’s stage manager discussing the creation of a town time capsule. He might as well be describing Wiseman’s mission when he says, “Babylon once had two million people in it, but all we know about them are the names of the kings, some copies of wheat contracts, and the sales of slaves. Yet every night, all those families sat down to supper, and the father came home from his work, and smoke went up the chimney . . . So, people a thousand years from now, this is the way we were in our marrying, our work, our living, and our dying.”
Characteristic of Wiseman’s long films, At Berkeley never feels judgmental of the people it documents. Because the director excels at finding continuity between institutions and individuals, every person here (no matter how briefly he or she appears onscreen) seems as complicated as the entire system. This is especially true of an early scene that, running 22 minutes, is one of the longest in Wiseman’s entire filmography. Set in another public policy class, it finds a roomful of students debating the antitax philosophy that’s grown so prominent in the Republican Party. Predictably, several students use the time to sound off on hard-line conservatives, until one female student turns the tables. She speaks of growing up black and working-class, building up to the assertion, “Nobody wanted to pay taxes to send me to school. Why should I care if nobody wants to pay taxes to send you to school?”
Directed by Frederick Wiseman. 244 min. See listings for showtimes. Gene Siskel Film Center, 164 N. State, 312-846-2800, $11, siskelfilmcenter.org.
