Marwencol is an excellent documentary which tells the story of Mark Hogancamp, who was assaulted by five men outside of a bar and left severely brain damaged after nine days in a coma. He had no memory of his former life. As a form of therapy, Mark slowly builds a 1/6 scale Belgian World War II era town he names after real people; Mark, Wendy and Colleen. He uses dolls to represent himself and his friends and gives them story lines. He eventually photographs his work and after publication in a magazine, his work is discovered by a New York art gallery; this is a simply amazing story. Mark has somehow survived against all odds and Marwencol will almost restore your faith in humanity.

I saw this with a science documentary that bothered me because instead of giving us the worthwhile narrative of the actual events, it invented a narrative of 'discovery' that was bogus and which occluded the cool stuff.This film settled me because it is an intelligent examination of a related but larger issue. What do we care about the nature of an artist? How much does it matter? Does it matter that Vincent was an intriguing soul whose dark letters we have next to his brilliant sunflowers? Surely a life can be artfully lived; but what does it mean for it to be exposed as art?You take your pick and create your own balance, and this film forces you into a disturbing dilemma. The 'outer' story is the one we are seemingly supposed to engage with: a sick but likable man has interesting obsessions that in presentations outside the film are seen as art. This fits the template of documentaries about Robert Crumb, Henry Darger, Bruce Bickford and the dozens of fictionalized films about artists. We love knowing about them, in the delusion that knowing the artist somehow gives access to the magic of their art. In my experience, an artist is often the last person who can do this. He/she even becomes a barrier. (This excludes a class of personal exhibition that uses the body.)Let's just say that what matters here is that the artist is in a situation where his art matters to him, he is a master at framing a scene to richly confer narrative. And he does so with ordinary cameras and dolls.The 'inner' story here is one of tortured lives and simple romances as clarified through simple abstractions of pose. It is all about poses. The artifice that these are dolls in some demented guy's backyard fades away. We don't see much of the artists work, because the filmmaker wants us to see his own. But when we do, it transports. I suspect that if we knew much less, they would matter more. But that balance, that balance is what we strike in our own tortured art of observation.Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

This is a beautiful, respectful, modest treatment of a delicate subject Mark H. -- the victim of a barroom attack by several youths who is left in a coma, forgets his past, and must gradually relearn how to walk, speak, and function. He remains damaged, but creates his own form of therapy in the form of creating an intricate world of action figures living out a detailed story of WWII action. He is an inspiring, creative, charismatic yet fragile protagonist.The movie follows the parallel worlds of Mark's reality and his storytelling, which reflect each other and progress with effective pacing. It is an inspiring tale of self-initiated psychological rehabilitation, where a person who might be pitied reinvents himself and finds redemption and what appears to be a "better" version of himself.There are also very interesting sub-currents of sexuality, sexual identity, justice, catharsis, normalcy, and power struggles in the dual narratives.The movie makers lovingly capture Mark's meticulously created art (including his excellent photography) with beautiful cinematography.Inspiring, beautiful movie.

please note: I don't think there are really any spoilers below - my comments are kept sufficiently vague so as to preclude giving anything away!-------...that this man's story ain't over yet and the film's rather downbeat conclusion, was, I felt, a bit premature, at best. Perhaps I'm overly optimistic (this is not something I'm ever accused of though, lemme point out) but I think better times outside of his backyard "town" await Mark Hogancamp in the big wide world.And even if his life continues along the same lines . . . I have a problem with the film's ending on a more general level - even if the last line spoken comes straight from the horse's mouth - on account of the 'tragic' overtones resulting from its placement at the very end of the movie.Typically in the case of portrayals of such "outsiders" as MH, there is, I suspect/feel, misplaced pity directed at such folks whose unconventional lives and choices might seem to the average person restrictive or even out and out depressing and pathetic. It seems to me, contrarily, that what a "special" person of this sort is up to in his private/fantasy dimension ought not so automatically to be "compared" to various facets of the lives of more ordinary people, finding it lacking. Rather, the art/therapy practice of a person like Mark Hogancamp should be envied as something extra, and extra special, in fact, which option, sadly, is denied most of your so-called average persons, consigned to what Thoreau famously referred to as "quiet desperation"! I, at any rate, do not feel so sorry for Mark Hogencamp, in spite of some of the rough circumstances that form the basis of his existence.He certainly isn't devoid of charm. :)