Screenpicks

Who Is Bernard Tapie?

(premieres Fri., Nov. 30, 9 p.m., Sundance Channel)

Your first response to the title of this hourlong documentary might well be, "Good question." But in Tapie’s native France, he is, as one commentator puts it, Bill Clinton, Donald Trump and O.J. Simpson rolled into one, a charismatic, slippery businessman turned celebrity turned gangster hero. Modeling himself after Jean Gabin, Tapie styled himself as a chanteur, but never hit it big until he started buying up bankrupt companies and selling off their assets in the ’80s. (So perhaps we should add Chainsaw Al to that list as well.) From there, he turned politician, becoming a favorite of then-President François Mitterand, and managed Marseille’s soccer team to victory in the European Cup, a first for any French squad. From there, it came crashing down after Tapie was convicted of bribing an opposing team to throw a qualifying match, but he was reborn as an actor and remains a hero to working-class Frenchmen who admire the tenacity with which he worked his way out of the slums, a rarity in a country where political success is still largely based on attending the right schools. As one observer puts it, "It’s not a French story; it’s an American story in France."

So, "Who is Bernard Tapie?" is a pretty good question. Marina Zenovich’s film is a bit mistitled, though. It should really be called Bernard and Me. The story of an obsession that began when she saw Tapie in Claude Lelouch’s Men, Women: A User’s Manual, Zenovich’s author-intrusive documentary is as much about her as her ostensible subject — and her numerous unsuccessful attempts to get anywhere near him. At first, Zenovich’s presence is merely irritating; you can only have so much sympathy for her lack of success, considering that she professes to be ignorant of Tapie’s history before her first trip to France and, despite three years of pursuit, never manages to learn more than a few words of French. But as the film continues, the magnitude of her obsession (which, incidentally, she swears has nothing to do with sex) becomes an object in its own right. It’s still, to be honest, a little annoying, but guiltily fascinating as well.

Tenderheaded

(Sun., Dec. 2, 2–7 p.m., $10, Painted Bride Art Center, 215-925-9914, www.paintedbride.org)

Mixed in with a day of stage performances, spoken word and craft demonstrations are a quintet of sisterhood-themed shorts, including Nappy Stories, by the Bride’s Lisa Nelson, and Caran Hartsfield’s Kiss It Up to God, a highlight of the shorts programming at this year’s PFWC.

Project Greenlight

(premieres Sun., Dec. 2, 10 p.m., HBO)

Even if Cinderella stories make you want to be the wicked stepmother, it’s hard not to get sucked in by Project Greenlight. Tied to the online script contest of the same name, the 12-part series, the first two parts of which air back to back Sunday night, goes from pitch session through production with the lucky winner, whose prize is a $1 million Miramax budget and a promise to open the movie "in theaters." (Come Feb. 22, we’ll see exactly what that means.) Episodes 1 and 2 concern themselves with the selection process: culling 250 scripts from more than 10,000 entries, then providing 30 filmmakers with the equipment to make their own scenes, then flying the top 10 to Los Angeles, then narrowing the 10 to three, and the three to one. Presided over by Ben Affleck, Matt Damon and Good Will Hunting producer Chris Moore, the culling process is surprisingly tense, even agonizing; the joy of informing the winner takes a distant back seat to the grueling task of disappointing the losers. (The latter duty gets passed off to Moore in the contest’s final round.) Especially fascinating are the three hourlong pitch sessions that occupy the second episode. Affleck, Damon and Moore are joined by a host of Miramax muckity-mucks — despite the absence of Weinsteins, it’s no farm team — for what comes off as a pretty candid look at the process. (It probably helps that the executives don’t have to worry about insulting anyone, since there’s no fear of recrimination.) The script they end up choosing isn’t, ultimately, everyone’s favorite, but the one with the greatest mix of emotional impact and easily achievable familiarity. (The close runner-up is eventually passed over because his script is too "execution-dependent," meaning there’s no way to tell what the finished movie will be like from looking at the script.) It’s hard to tell if the remaining 10 episodes, which go from preproduction through completion, will pack the same punch. (Only the first four were provided for review.) But you have to admire the thoroughness of the Greenlight concept, which not only capitalizes on the fervor for new filmmakers, but reinforces Miramax’s indie cred at a time when they could sure use some and not incidentally provides six hours of free prerelease publicity. Based on these beginnings, it seems doubtful that Project Greenlight’s debut film will be as interesting as watching it come together, but that’s not so uncommon anyway.

Pie in the Sky: The Brigid Berlin Story

($24.98 DVD/$19.98 VHS)

Though neophyte doc directors Vincent and Shelly Dunn Freemont leave a lot to be desired in terms of coherence, they’ve definitely got the inside scoop on the Warhol years, as evidenced by this biography of Factory regular Brigid Berlin. A wealthy child whose parents tormented her ceaselessly about her weight, Berlin seems driven to obsession and binges by nature: Much of the film’s contemporary footage, set in Berlin’s NYC apartment, concerns her spooning out yogurt and wheat germ by the ounce while talking endlessly about her desire to go downstairs and eat several Key lime pies in a single sitting. (At one point after she falls off the wagon, she weighs herself and discovers she’s gained 10 pounds in three days.) It’s a shame the Freemonts don’t step outside Berlin’s experience to give a fuller picture of her relationship with Warhol, though taped excerpts from their conversations provide ample background. Still, Pie in the Sky’s brief sketch remains just that: a tantalizing glimpse, rather than a full-fledged exploration.