'American Movie' Is A Classic Of Contrasting Characters

Chris Smith's 1999 documentary arrived at the end of an era for independent cinema but remains one of the most memorable nonfiction films of the 1990s.

Mike Schank and Mark Borchardt in American Movie

The ‘90s were partly defined by the rise of independent filmmaking, and the last year of the decade brought two significant classics representing the era’s peak moments. One, a faux documentary horror movie, became one of the most financially successful films ever. The other, a nonfiction feature that often feels like mockumentary fiction, chronicles the making of a short horror movie that didn’t end up nearly as famous but found enough of an audience to be deemed a victory. Both of these classics, The Blair Witch Project and American Movie, debuted at Sundance in January 1999, and while the story of the former has gone down in the history books, the tale told in the latter offers more of a snapshot of the times. It does so in the form of a portrait of an artist at odds with the world around him and some personal conflicts within.

While released in 1999, American Movie takes place a couple of years earlier, as it follows Wisconsin filmmaker Mark Borchardt from 1995 through 1997 in his efforts to finish one of his ongoing projects. This was a time when indies were all the rage — a clip from the 1997 Oscars shown in American Movie reminds us how that year’s ceremony was something of an independent film celebration with many nominees existing outside the Hollywood mainstream. It was a time when indie cinema guru John Pierson was enough of a celebrity for film students to recognize him on the street, as I did, and as a result, wound up in an episode of his docuseries Split Screen. A docuseries, by the way, that then went on to spotlight the making of both American Movie (then titled Making Northwestern) and The Blair Witch Project two years before they were unleashed into the world.

By the mid-’90s, creative individuals from around the world (myself, the film student, included) had become inspired by the stories of indie film successes such as Kevin Smith and Quentin Tarantino, who came from nothing, spent everything, and found fame and fortune. Borchardt had already been an amateur filmmaker in his youth, gaining experience writing, directing, and acting in little movies using a super-8 camera, so he wasn’t necessarily a product of the indie cinema boom of the ‘90s. Still, he is one of the era’s many examples who passionately strived but ultimately — even if they achieved some semblance of their dreams — existed in stark contrast to the few who truly triumphed in the industry.

Even Chris Smith, who directed American Movie, has proven to be a huge success in comparison to Borchardt. They are both from Wisconsin, started out making movies in the Midwest far from the hubs of the film industry, and only one of them is today a prolific director, churning out such hits as Tiger King, The Yes Men, Fyre, and in 2024 alone, Devo, Hollywood Con Queen, and Mr. McMahon. Smith is one of today’s most notable documentarians who broke out before the modern “golden era” of nonfiction cinema that began in the early 2000s. With American Movie, though, he was hardly a pioneer. He wasn’t the first person to document the making of a film — though at the time it was rare for a making of doc to get more attention and to be more successful than the production it covers — and the style and format were pretty conventional.

What earned American Movie its Grand Jury Prize at Sundance and immediate status as a cult classic was its characters — and the way that Smith portrayed them, of course. Not that they were unique personalities. American Movie has a lot in common with Grey Gardens when you look at the dynamic between the similarly talkative Borchardt and his relationship with his low-energy elder, Uncle Bill, who is a reluctant participant in the story. They’re like the Little Edie and Big Edie of the indie film world. And Coven is their crumbling Hamptons estate. Borchardt’s brother acknowledges that Mark’s “main asset is really just his mouth, his talking.” That’s an asset that helps him in his filmmaking pursuits and as a lead character in a documentary. Ironically, it also seems that the documentary is a distraction from the task at hand as it gets Borchardt talking more than he would if he’d been alone with the work.

As with the Beales of Grey Gardens, it’s easy to laugh at the characters in American Movie and the things they say and how they say them, but it should be just as easy and more important to feel for them. This film came out at a time when eccentric people were often exploited for laughs in the documentary arena, which is a shame given how earnest they all are here. Sure, there are some funny situations, and sometimes we might be laughing with Borchardt’s sidekick, Mike Schank, rather than at him, but it’s necessary to remember that these are or were real people with real concerns. And there are a lot of serious issues and themes floating through the film. For one thing, it’s almost tragic how Borchardt is always drinking while working on his movies given how unprofessional that is and how disappointing it must have been for Schank, a recovering addict, to witness.