Docs

Zackary Drucker stars as Agnes in “Framing Agnes,” a doc by Toronto's Chas. Movies. Opinion. 12 ...

One of their tunes is “Masquerade,” a song about “ripping the mask off,” which is what the ASD Band members aim to do as they educate people through music’s shared humanity. And a bonus doc short: Crafted from raw NASA images and audio, Sebastian Ko’s “A Life on Mars” packs decades of research and nearly 10 years of exploration by intrepid Mars rover Curiosity into a six-minute adventure. More recently he’s been helping out in war-torn Ukraine. The doc risks turning into a PSA, but Andrés — who does have a temper — resists cynicism, sacrificing his family life and coming close to burnout as he barrels through danger, red tape and delays to feed hungry mouths. Rawan Tuffaha (vocals), Jackson Begley (guitar/vocals), Ron Adea (keyboards) and Spenser Murray (drums) find friendship and fulfilment as they labour to write and record “Fireflies,” their first EP of original songs. This sentiment is expressed beautifully in Mark Bone’s chronicle of Toronto’s ASD Band, a group of musicians with autistic spectrum disorder (hence the acronym) and ties to the Jake’s House charitable community. Stellar performances all, especially from Zackary Drucker as the title Agnes, a rebellious and resourceful hero of the trans movement who rejects labels: “I think we’re only human if we’re allowed to be anti-heroes,” she says. He returned to Russia a year ago, only to be jailed upon arrival and later accused of terrorism by Putin’s dictatorial regime. Such speculative science came closer to reality in 2018, when Chinese biophysicist He Jiankui announced he’d created the world’s first gene-edited babies, twin girls known only as Lulu and Nana. But what is applauded as progress in science fiction was greeted in real life with considerable alarm expressed by medical ethicists, who fretted about “rogue” research, and by Chinese government officials, who wanted the story controlled and ultimately hushed. It’s a textbook example of how to do investigative docs. They work hard at it, too, with 100 to 130 performances per year and many rehearsals in between, under the watchful eye of Katherine Shortlidge, their leader and fellow dancer. Dinner, wine and a no-holds-barred lesson on racism are served in Patty Ivins’ provocative doc, along with enlightenment or indigestion depending on the recipient. It’s not all fun and philanthropy: health issues, family concerns and at least one ornery husband conspire against joy, forcing some of the dancers to hang up their colourful headpieces.