Tower is a film about the 1966 mass shooting at the University of Texas at Austin. It serves as a reminder that while the frequency of gun violence in the U.S. may be a tragically modern development, mass shootings are sadly not anything new. (Indeed, for the moment at least, this incident still ranks in the top 10 deadliest shootings in U.S. history.)
What makes this documentary distinct is how it presents its subject. There's very little actual film footage from the incident to work with, and only a little more in the way of photos and audio recordings. Some of the survivors gave interviews at various points in their lives, but as these were spread out over a 50 year period, unifying a documentary's sense of time was going to be a real challenge.
Director Keith Maitland decided to ground the story by casting actors in the major roles -- not just for the purpose of recreating the incident, but to actually perform interviews (both archival and new ones) for the camera. Yet even then, he couldn't get the footage he needed to do justice to the story, because he was unable to film a reenactment at the actual location. (He either decided it would be in bad taste, or believed he'd never be given permission in the first place, and reportedly never asked.)
His solution? Animation. The vast majority of this documentary is rotoscope-style animation, painting over both the interviews and the reenactments (which are placed on still backgrounds of the real location). It's a surprisingly effective technique, somehow weaving a magic that makes these events from five decades ago feel current and urgent.
Occasionally, dropped into the animation are brief moments of live-action, and these land like gut punches. The news and home video footage from the day are, interestingly, not even the most impactful moments. Instead, those come when interview subjects, animated as the actors cast to look their age in 1966, are intercut with clips of the actual people, now in their 70s or 80s. If my description is making it sound confusing, be assured that it's crystal clear and potently emotional in context.
It's fascinating to me how such a seemingly artificial construction can lead to a documentary that feels like it puts no artifice at all between the viewer and the emotion. It's quite a trick, though I feel like even to use that word cheapens it a bit. I only wish that the documentary had dared to take more of a point of view beyond just retelling the events. Only in the very final minutes does it dare to brush against the politics of gun control by including footage of more recent mass shootings. If any of the interview subjects had anything to say about how little things have changed over time with regard to guns in the U.S., those comments didn't make it into the film.
Nevertheless, Tower stands as an effective preservation of a dark moment in history. I give it a B+. If you're interested in watching it, it's available to stream from Netflix -- making it easy to get a hold of, though not "easy to watch."
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