“There’s your dog; your dog’s dead. But where’s the thing that made it move? It had to be something, didn’t it?” - from Gates of Heaven
I finally got to see a movie I've been curious about for years, Errol Morris' 1978 documentary Gates of Heaven. It belatedly showed up on DVD recently, after being impossible to find on video for years. It's the very first movie by Errol Morris, who won an Oscar for his The Fog of War last year. This cult-ish film is about two pet cemeteries - one that's closed, one that's new, the people who run them and the people who use them, and what it all means about life, dying and dogs and cats. Deadpan funny, heartfelt and low-key, it's a unique and interesting flick.
The reason I was so curious about it was pretty much exclusively because one of my favorite critics, Roger Ebert, is a huge fan. He lists the movie as one of his "Top 10" of all time - yet it's one few people have even heard of. In his excellent book, The Great Movies, he features an entire essay on Gates of Heaven, which really whetted my appetite to see it.
Watching Gates was an interesting experience. Few movies we're told are great live up to our impossible expectations in advance. Gates is, like most of Errol Morris' movies I've seen, stark and unadorned. Unlike, say, Michael Moore, Errol Morris is the invisible documentarian, not interested in being the star. Gates features no narration, no questioning at all from Morris - it's entirely his subjects talking, pure observation, in frank, unscripted language about their lives. It makes for compelling viewing, often, although sometimes it becomes the equivalent of being stuck in an elevator with a boor, and other times it's a little confusing not having the ubiquitous narrator telling you what's happening onscreen.
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