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Venice Review: Sam Fuller Documentary ‘A Fuller Life’

Venice Review: Sam Fuller Documentary 'A Fuller Life'

Like most right-minded film fans we’re big fans of Sam Fuller (check out our list of essential films from the director). Kicking of his career as a crime reporter and novelist, Fuller soon found his way to Hollywood and after serving in World War Two as an infantryman, became a film director. Generally favoring low-budget and independently-produced pictures, but not averse to working within the studio system (he had a good relationship with Daryl Zanuck), he knocked out a string of genre classics — from “Pickup On South Street” and “Forty Guns” to “Shock Corridor” and his epic autobiographical masterpiece “The Big Red One” — that quietly influenced many of your favourite directors.

So to say we were excited to see “A Fuller Life” tucked away in the Venice program would be an understatement. Directed by the great filmmaker’s daughter Samantha, a former glass artist, it promised to dig into the man’s fascinating life and tremendous work, to mark what would have been his 101st birthday earlier this month. The film isn’t, however, quite what we were expecting. Running just over 80 minutes, it’s essentially an adaptation of Fuller’s memoir of the same name, divided into chapters, with a selection of famous names reading the filmmaker’s prose. Some, like William Friedkin and Wim Wenders (who cast Fuller Sr in his film “The American Friend“) were friends, some, like Jennifer Beals, Mark Hamill and Bill Duke, were collaborators, and some, like Tim Roth and James Franco (because James Franco is in everything) are admirers.

Their readings play out over a mix of archive footage, clips from his work, rostrum camera stills and, most interestingly, home movies shot by Fuller himself, including some of his wartime experiences. His childhood work as a newsboy and subsequent career as a crime writer are dealt with fairly briskly but the bulk of the film, and the best material, deals with his time in the Second World War. This was where he was involved in the D-Day landings, had a hilarious and touching encounter at a USO show with Marlene Dietrich and helped liberate a concentration camp, both of which can be glimpsed in footage shot by Fuller.

Unfortunately this means that there’s only fifteen minutes or so at the end to deal with the forty-odd year career in film, which means that masterpieces like “Shock Corridor” and “The Naked Kiss” are mostly passed over, with only his opus “The Big Red One” getting a fair shake. This is in keeping with both the source material and the man — Fuller was unpretentious about his work and didn’t like to discuss it much, but it seems fair to wish for a little more insight into the movies.

Similarly, by focusing exclusively on his own perspective and not including interviews with those that knew him, the film essentially comes across as a star-studded audiobook. Not a particularly good audiobook either — some readers are more natural than others, and many of their readings seem to have been filmed in one take; Franco, for instance, noticeably flubs his lines at one point.

Still, Fuller fans will get a real kick out of it, especially if they haven’t read the source material, while it’s also worth it for the casually curious viewer if only for the hugely impressive WWII footage. Perhaps more importantly, the film works very well as a daughter’s tribute to her father as a man, and that seems to be exactly what it set out to be. [C+]

Browse through all our coverage of the 2013 Venice Film Festival to date by clicking here. 

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Pig Bodine

So the reviewer gave it a C+ but also initially misidentified the titles of THREE of Fuller's films, even as he called them "classics" and "masterpieces." Not sure how to take that. One is a brain fart, two is a shame, but three really makes me wonder if he's familiar with the subject.

Would've loved to have seen what he did with a title like "Dead Pigeon on Beethoven Street." "Live Dove on Mozart Avenue"?

Taylor Jones

Franco really wants us to take him seriously as an artist, I guess. Everything this guy creates had its inception from an artist much larger (and canonized as "Great") than himself, i.e., Faulkner, McCarthy, Crane, C.K. Williams, Van Sant. How do festival audiences stifle their groans when they expect to see an appreciation of Samuel Fuller only to have Franco appear and speak of his influence on his art? He seems to think his ubiquity is performance art (on the nature of celebrity or somesuch) too while cashing easy checks. Find your own voice and a single pie, man. These literary adaptations reek of him reading these two books this one time; basically the cinematic equivalent of consciously elevating a copy of "Gravity's Rainbow" on the subway. But I suppose grousing about Franco is as tired as Franco is himself. Obviously there's a reason there's a picture of James Franco leading a review of a documentary about Samuel Fuller.


Hmm. not a great grade, but still curious.

Rip Torn

The trifecta of "Four Guns", "Pickup On Fourth Street", and "Killer's Kiss" =


the film was called FORTY GUNS, not four guns.

Dick Schitz

I know bloggers aren't journalists, but a semblance of professionalism (i.e. proofreading!) would go a long way…

Ham On Rye

Ummmm, it's "Pickup On SOUTH Street", not "Fourth"


Killer's Kiss is a Kubrick film. The Naked Kiss?

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