GREATER SOUTHBRIDGE Rating: Director: Rod Murphy Producers: Kate Murphy and John Hunt Story: Rod Murphy, Justin Earls, Scott B. Morgan Director of Photography: Cast: N/A

Review by: Warren Curry
3/2/03

Some viewers will have a tough time discerning if director Rod Murphy's documentary Greater Southbridge is an in-poor-taste black comedy or a sensitive vehicle of social concern. At first glance, either reaction would appear to be valid, but the more one truly thinks about this film, the more one is inclined to arrive at the latter conclusion. Armed with an old home video camera (as the opening title cards state), Murphy initially embarked on this project in hopes to better understand the hometown he never completely grasped, Southbridge, Massachusetts. As with most documentaries, a point-of-view is firmly established, and the aspect of Southbridge that Murphy is most interested in exploring is the apparently large population of mentally ill and downtrodden who reside in the community of 17,000, which lies 90 minutes southwest of Boston.

Utilizing the talking heads approach, the film uncovers a small town in financial remission, where the residents don't have much else to look forward to except getting drunk and/or stoned on the weekend. Southbridge, the film conveys, is an easy place to remain stuck, and the subjects interviewed seem divided on whether the town is a good or bad place to live. We're exposed to a bit of the town's history and learn that a good deal of the economic hardship is due to eyeglass manufacturing giant, American Optical, closing there Southbridge factory in the late 1980s. The town also has seen a recent spurt in racially diversity, as a large Puerto Rican population has settled in and has been met with some expected hostility.

What makes Greater Southbridge so unique is the colorful array of characters who share their views about the town. Two people in particular, Jerry Sciensnewski and Wayne Foskett, are the main subjects in the film, and learning about these people can inspire sorrow and laughter, but is always quite fascinating. Wayne a.k.a. "The Lone Wolf," a Vietnam vet, who includes his likes as Chuck Norris and conspiracies, provides wildly offbeat humor in his ramblings in which he claims, among other things, that he is a member of an organization of "12th degree black belts" which also includes Paul Newman and Robert Redford, and that back in 'Nam, he could crush a bullet fired from a .357 with his palm. His views on race relations in Southbridge are a bit stinging, as he shows blatant contempt for the Puerto Rican population, warning to even watch the nice ones or you'll wind up with "a blade stuck in your back."

An infinitely more sympathetic and congenial figure, Jerry a.k.a "Mr. Southbridge" is a genuine man about town, who elicits the help of many of the locals. Aside from the government check he receives every month (which leaves him with $30 after he pays his rent), Jerry makes ends meet by taking advantage of the state's bottle return law, collecting large quantities of empty cans and bottles, while repeatedly admonishing that, "five cents is not a joke. Money doesn't grow on trees."

A little more than halfway through, the film takes a sad turn when we learn that an older Southbridge resident named Harry Shaw, who we've met several times earlier in the doc, has vanished. An interview with his wife and acquaintances illustrate that Harry had fallen into a state of depression when he learned that doctor's believed his wife might be stricken with cancer. The suddenly sullen mood is a bit surprising given the upbeat nature of the material that preceded it.

Undoubtedly, there will be those who scorn this film for being nothing more than the filmmakers trotting out and exploiting a collection of helpless people. I can understand this assessment, but feel it's a decidedly incorrect perception. Aside from the filmmakers coming to the aid of Jerry at the end and delivering to him a literal truckload of empty cans, Murphy and crew deal with these people like few others are willing to -- as human beings. While it's true that those afflicted with mental illness should be treated with an extra amount of sensitivity, most people would rather not encounter them that all; almost as if neglect is the proper treatment. Murphy shows that he's truly a friend to Jerry and respects the man enough to not handle him exclusively with kid gloves.

Running around 85 minutes, Greater Southbridge isn't necessarily too long, but does feel repetitive. Often times a question will be introduced and we'll receive a few more answers than necessary. When the film takes its downbeat turn, it can start to feel redundant. A few other scenes could also be trimmed, primarily to maintain the sense of rhythm the film establishes early on.

The soundtrack is a huge bonus, with the music setting a bright tone. Scott B. Morgan's (who I should note shares the "a film by" credit with Murphy) dynamic editing keeps the film focused and progressing at a nice pace. Murphy and Morgan toy with the low budget nature of the project, purposely including "amateurish" moments that most would have left on the cutting room floor. It definitely adds charm to this movie.

Greater Southbridge is a fun, entertaining film, which also has something to say, even though the message may not be comfortably spelled out enough for some. Love it or loathe it, it's a solidly assembled documentary that I can easily envision gaining a cult-type following, although its appeal should transcend such limitations.