Michael Almereyda’s wonderful documentary William Eggleston in the Real World spends a lot of time noodling around about subjects Eggleston himself, in the closing conversation, professes to neither understand nor much fret about: what do [his] photographs do? How do they affect us? How do we watch them?
Luckily for us, the film doesn’t care to really answer, nor does it care only about that question. Instead, the film without any of that arty detachment follows Eggleston around as he takes pictures, content (mostly) to watch him work, or in the off hours to drink and draw and play music. He’s never terribly well-defined–and that’s actually to my liking, and the film’s effect. Rather than answering, it enacts the issues of art and image; the cinematography echoes and even at times captures the lush colors and compositions of the photographer’s work, and while never telling us exactly what to think it provokes sincere, curious reflection. I really enjoyed this. (Almereyda’s other doc on Sam Shepard–This So-Called Disaster–is also a fine film, about the staging of a play but best when hanging out with the playwright.)