American Movie: The Making of Northwestern

American Movie: The Making of Northwestern is a film that is painfully funny. You will laugh like loud for 90 minutes all the while feeling guilty about mocking the dreams and aspirations of others less fortunate.

For this is not a mockumentary in the Spinal Tap tradition, exposing the pretensions of Hollywood directors and heavy metal musicians. Rather, it is for real, exposing the tragic mismatch between the American Dream and the reality of life in places like Melipominee Falls, Wisconsin – places, in other words, about as far from Hollywood as could be yet upon which the dream factory and the American way of life (TM) have always depended.

Film-maker Chris Smith's subject is Mark Borchardt, a 30-ish divorcee who himself dreams of being an independent film-maker. His dream project, in gestation for more than a decade, is Northwestern, a heartfelt drama about the world he grew up in – a small-town world characterised a lack of economic and cultural opportunities and drug and – especially – alcohol abuse.

But before Mark can begin Northwestern he must first complete and make money from Coven, his mid-length black and white zero budget horror film, made with family and friends – people like shambling acid casualty turned lottery addict Mike Schank and Uncle Bill, a decrepit miser who lives in a trailer.

Smith really doesn't have to do anything except turn his cameras on Mark, Mike and co. and let them be themselves. And, while acknowledging Mark's manipulativeness, exploitation of his circle and failings as a father, one also can't help feel for him – isn't it often the case that the artists qualities qua artist are inverse to their qualities qua human being, such that Mark is only imitating the best? For the footage we see of Coven does reveal a distinct visual sense. Mark knows what he's doing and it's hardly his fault for lacking money, connections or cultural capital. Put another way, one seriously doubts a Sofia Coppola or Harmony Korine could have done any better in Mark Borchardt's shoes.

And that, ultimately, is why American Movie is such a good documentary: It succeeds in gives you an understanding of another person and way of life and brings out our common humanity in all its futile glory. Or, to paraphrase the film's most memorable – and oft repeated – line, "It's okay, there's something to live for…"