I saw and reviewed James Toback’s Tyson at its world premiere at the 2008 Cannes Film Festival, and the docu-confessional certainly left a lasting impression … for the wrong reasons. Mike Tyson himself walked down the long aisle of the Lumiere theater after the screening to both a rapturous standing ovation from the home crowd, and a dimly heard protest cry of “rapist!” drifting down from the balcony (a female film critic later took credit for the latter). Suffice it to say, that contradiction made that Cannes premiere … uh … memorable, regardless of the content of the film.
Almost a year later, there seem to be as few contrasting voices in regards to Tyson as there are in regards to Tyson within the film itself. The way this non-conventional nonfiction film, and what a cynic might see as the nefarious project behind it, has been accepted by the media virtually unquestioningly, even appreciatively (see the 85% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, higher than the current rating for the latest film from the critically beloved Dardennes brothers), cements that Cannes premiere as a crucial moment in documentary evolution. That night in May, the freak show aesthetic that marks salacious, nonfiction-in-name (if questionably in content) VH1 product like Flava of Love, Celebrity Rehab and Confessions of a Teen Idol, slipped seamlessly into Cannes, en route to a US arthouse release from the same company that brought you very classy recent Oscar nominees Frozen River, Waltz with Bashir and The Class. That night, any remaining distinction between the lowbrow non-fiction of reality TV and the rarefied space of the world’s most revered film festival ceased to exist.










The 2009 Sundance Film Festival doesn’t kick off until Thursday, but there are already a few acquisitions and other news of note to report:




