Gates of Heaven
1978, United States
Director: Errol Morris
In Gates of Heaven Errol Morris created one of the more unique films, and certainly more unique documentaries, ever made. It’s a study of the rollicking pet cemetery business, built around interviews of faithful pet owners, entrepreneurs, and at least one person that, as far as I could tell, had no relationship whatsoever to the subject. There’s a level of sarcasm to most of these interviews that is faintly to highly amusing; there are also some genuinely touching moments towards the end, but the majority of the screen time is devoted to pretty boring people with pretty pedestrian views on life, death, and the insurance business.
The ongoing debate concerning Gates of Heaven is whether director Morris is playing the concept for comedy, or playing it straight. Roger Ebert, a film critic I greatly admire, has high views on the movie in part due to this apparent ambiguity. In his review he describes how he often screens the film for discussion purposes, and how the audience inevitably grapples with its intended tone. Perhaps the fact that it’s a documentary is throwing people off, but why can’t Gates of Heaven be both funny and serious? Most of the first half is played for laughs and towards the end Morris starts playing it straight. Does that make this a layered, deep movie? With due respects to Ebert, I don’t think so. I’m all for ambiguity, for interpretation, but I don’t see much of that in this film.
Perhaps part of my problem here – the problem that prevents me from feeling about this movie too strongly in one direction or another – is that I really don’t find the pet cemetery business to be all that inherently funny. Even parts that are clearly played up for laughs, such as an old woman crooning at her dog to make it whine in response, have me caught halfway between amusement and annoyance. The funniest part in the movie is also the part that best testifies the film is at least partially sarcastic – a newspaper whirls towards the screen in “breaking news” fashion only to reveal the rather banal announcement that some pet graves are being relocated.
Style: 7
Gates of Heaven has a directorial deftness. Much of its charm derives from the way it intercuts different viewpoints, passing from the success-minded ex-insurance guy to his brother’s rendition of Honky Tonk Women, to a woman choking up over her departed dog. Note, too, the pet paraphernalia in prominent view behind the two squabbling old women, establishing their characters to the audience on an almost subconscious level. In spite of his efforts there’s only so much Morris can do with his material, working within a documentary format.
Substance: 6
You can choose to celebrate the rather quaint philosophical ideas of the people involved in this film; you could also laugh at their queer obsessions and failed business ventures. Personally I have no interest in the former, and not a whole lot for the latter. You could build this film up to be quite a bit deeper or more biting than it actually is, but I see the bulk of it as a succession of disinteresting people expounding on disinteresting ideas. It’s nothing I couldn’t get at a family reunion.
Overall: 6
This is an above-average film due to a few funny and touching moments, but to call it any more than that is a stretch. I like the way Morris brings out the truth of his principals, but I don’t think it compensates for their inherent dullness, or the novel but ultimately unremarkable subject matter.
November 23, 2008 at 1:43 am
The inevitable retort, and my take on the film. Please excuse some lack of detail, as I haven’t watched the film too recently.
We are introduced to many people in the film whose values seem farcical to idiotic. We have the pet owners who have studio potraits of their dear departed pets and who sing with them, the entrepreneur who just wanted to give beloved pets a respectful resting place, the failed businessman who now works at his father’s pet cementary and thinks displaying his trophies will engender respect and emulation, and the ne’er-do-well son who talks of an ambitious music career among the marijuana plants in his bedroom and plays his guitar for his absurd audience of the buried pets in his father’s pet cementary. The overwhelming feeling for me as a viewer is how everyone in the film is pathetic. Is a pet’s resting place really all that important? Does it really need fountains and gardens? And who cares about bowling trophies and portraits of dogs? People who value such things must be shallow and simple.
However, these people are searching for something fundamental. They find love and family in their pets. Everyone needs family. And upon reflection, is a pet cementary all that much more ridiculous than a cementary for human remains? Also, we all want to be respected. Perhaps displaying trophies is a blantant way to try to gain respect, but is flaunting success in a more subtle way make it any less vulgar? Furthermore, don’t we all have dreams we swear we will accomplish but do nothing to fulfill? We may as well be giving futile concerts for the bones of animals, since our “true talents” will never be revealed to the world. We laugh at these fools and realize that we are really laughing at the fraility and ego of humanity. These people petty desires are just grotesque images of our own, debasing our hopes and mocking our dreams.
What we as individuals think is somehow cosmically important (like relationships, success, God) is really only locally important to the individual. And it is okay to think things are important to you, but that’s no reason to think that what is important to you is important to everyone else and to the universe as a whole. My Ph.D. may mean to me just as much as a bowling trophy means to someone else and my family and friends may be akin to an old lady’s pair of dogs. Value is a relative thing to each individual, and any value can be seen as absurd in a certain angle. This film exposes the absurdity of it all.
November 24, 2008 at 2:12 pm
I’m actually surprised that you like the film due to a deeper meaning. When I saw the woman pick up the dog and sing to it, I thought “ok, here’s why Will likes this movie, right here.”
I certainly understand, even if I do not precisely share, your perspective on this film. The ultimate moral you derive from it, about the absurdity of our pursuits, is a good one. But I’m not convinced this film does a particularly good job setting up that interpretation. Does it really feel like Morris is driving us towards that point, the acknowledgement of the absurdity of existence?
It doesn’t to me. I get the impression that he thought he could make a mockumentary out of the subject material, then halfway decided to make it sort of more sentimental, and ultimately mostly lets the material all hang out, without really falling on either side. This film is fundamentally a lot of dull people talking about their lives. They are dull even in the sense that it’s not all that remarkable that they love their pets and want to bury them. If Morris really wanted to emphasize the moral you suggest, I think he would have been better served with a more ridiculous obsession. There’s nothing surprising about the college burnout who still hopes he’ll make it as a musician, or the guy that displays his bowling trophies in his office. We’ve already met these people in our daily lives, and the lesson you describe is brought to us every day, whether we like it or not.
You couldn’t throw a styrofoam cup without hitting people that would gladly talk all about themselves. I think it takes more than filming them to make a great movie.
November 25, 2008 at 12:02 am
You describe the film transitioning from mocking to sentimental. I would take it more in the following way: Morris first gets you to laugh at these people (the “mocking” part), but then displays their sincerity (the “sentimental” part, I suppose) which is jarring in the viewer: I was just laughing at these people, but they are really sincere; should I really be laughing at them? Who am I to judge them?
It sounds like you think Ebert and I are giving Morris too much credit, that we read something into it that the artist did not intend. I guess this is an old debate. Jackson Pollack is well-respected in the art community, but his paintings look like splashed paint on a canvas and no more to me. In the end, I can’t speak for Morris’s intent, but can only describe how the movie affected me. And I loved it.
November 25, 2008 at 1:37 am
I do take issue with one comment:
“I get the impression that he thought he could make a mockumentary out of the subject material, then halfway decided to make it sort of more sentimental…”
This assumes that the film was made linearly, that Morris shot each part of film at a time and each part made the final cut; he made the first half of the movie, changed his mind of his tone midway through, and then made the rest. However, I don’t know of any films (documentary or otherwise) made in this way. After all the footage was shot, Morris could edit it together however he pleased. My guess is that he had the material to make the first half sentimental if wanted, and the second half more a mockumentary if he wanted. But he edited it together in the way that the first half seems mocking, and the second half more “sentimental.” So, it is fair to assume that any change in tone is an intentional action by the filmmaker, considering all the choices he could make, and unfair to say that he changed his mind about the tone midway through. Assuming the change is intentional, you have to consider what the intent of the filmmaker was in changing the tone. I think my theory gives a good reason for this change of tone, even if we can never truly know Morris’s intent.
November 25, 2008 at 4:55 pm
Will says: This assumes that the film was made linearly, that Morris shot each part of film at a time and each part made the final cut; he made the first half of the movie, changed his mind of his tone midway through, and then made the rest.
This is how most people believe movies are made. Even people that know better often struggle with the reality that ending parts of a film could have been filmed months before earlier shots.
Interestingly, if you watch the deleted scenes on the Iron Man DVD, each individual shot is dated so you can see how different shots in the same scene were filmed at different times. Very cool.
November 25, 2008 at 5:34 pm
Two comments:
Sure, he shot everything out of order, but the editing process is still linear. It’s possible he was going for one thing at one point during that process, and then veered in a different direction later on. Writers, for example, might have huge chunks of story complete and still not be sure how they all fit together. Perhaps my understanding of filmmaking is insufficient, but it seems the situations are analogous.
That said, I don’t think that detracts from your points, Will. Clearly Morris was going for particular tones at particular points, and it’s up to the viewer to interpret how successful he was, both in particular moments and in the aggregate. I think on this we would agree.
On the Jackson Pollack comment, I actually think this is a relevant and good analogy. To me, and a great many people, it is difficult to divorce the effectiveness of art from the effort put into the art. I do not, can not, consider a person splattering paint on a canvas to be art. How can you be moved by something that is so transparently random? Obviously that’s an extreme example, but I think the point, to varying degrees, still stands.
November 25, 2008 at 6:07 pm
The editing process is actually NOT linear. Just like in the filming process, sequences may be edited and re-edited out of order. It’s entirely possible to have final cuts of middle-scenes, for example, before the beginning is done.
November 25, 2008 at 6:39 pm
I’m talking about the conceptualization of the story, here. At some point, the creator has to conceptualize his work in a linear fashion, because that’s the way it’s going to be viewed. Unless he’s just going to Pollack his way through it.
November 25, 2008 at 11:43 pm
But the filmmaker has to think about the film as a whole, and thus makes a choice that there will be a tone change in the middle of the film. You can write a story that you think will end one way, but then change the ending. But then you may have to rework the beginning of the story to have it work with the new ending. I still think the idea that Morris just changed his mind on tone midway through and kept the first half’s tone the same (out of laziness, I guess?) despite his change of heart is close to impossible. This change is almost surely intentional.
November 25, 2008 at 11:54 pm
I’m just not convinced that Morris knew, himself, what he was going for when he made it. It seemed like he put together some scenes towards the beginning, and said “well this lays a logical foundation, and we’ll just be really sarcastic with all of it.” Then as he moved on to the latter half, he really wasn’t sure what to do with his remaining material. I don’t think that’s at all impossible.
Obviously none of us will ever know for sure what he intended. But I just don’t feel it, man.
November 26, 2008 at 12:53 pm
Man, you think Morris made this documentary like a fifth grader writes a book report, changing his thesis as he goes along. That seems exceedingly unlikely to me.
November 26, 2008 at 1:29 pm
Hey, I wrote some of my finest stories in fifth grade. I had one where my friends and I invaded Russia in F-14s. I don’t think I’ll ever top the sheer energy, the daring inventiveness, of that work.
To your point: there are millions of films that do not bother to have a thesis in the first place. And this was Morris’ first film, which he made at the tender age of 27. It was half made on a dare (another director promised to eat his shoe if Morris completed it). Morris went on to become quite respected, but forgive me some skepticism as to how this one came together.
And, you know, I don’t hate this film. I just don’t share the deep affection that you and your boy Ebert have for it. My loss, I suppose.
November 26, 2008 at 5:12 pm
Invaded Russia? In 5th grade? The Cold War was over when we were in 5th grade. Why would we be invading Russia? Also, I’m sure Russia had the military power to handle a few F-14s.
November 26, 2008 at 5:21 pm
The Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, and we were in 5th grade in 1990. So at the very least it was still topical. Besides, you need SOMEplace to use your F-14s on…Russia was as good a pick as any back then.
I remember there was so much crap in the introduction that when it came time to finish the story (or the school year ended, or whatever – who knows how it worked back then), we had not actually gotten to Russia yet. So I hastily threw in a few paragraphs about crossing the Pacific Ocean and the mission being a huge success. I guess it was more of a character-driven work.
November 26, 2008 at 5:21 pm
Also, Spielberg directed “The Sugarland Express” when he was 27 and “Jaws” when he was 28. So I’m not sure how “the tender age of 27″ is all that relevant a comment. Bryan Singer completed “The Usual Suspects ” when he was 30.
I have to agree with Will on this one. It seems impossible that Morris set out to make this film with no clue of how he was going to proceed and ended up editing it together in this completely scattershot manner. It’s more likely that he intended to strike two different tones with the film.
November 26, 2008 at 5:34 pm
Fair enough on the age comment. But it was still his first film, which was the main point there.
Have you seen it yet? I actually said he was probably going for different tones in the first and second half, but it’s not so clear a transition or effect as I would have liked. I think you have to see it to determine how tight the overall vision is, which is ultimately what this particular point is about.