The physical and metaphysical effect of lightning bolts

Taking on natural phenomena and steering clear the science-for-dopes pitfalls or winded theological sermons is big league stuff. Filmmaker Jennifer Baichwal proves herself a storm-chasing pro in Act of God, a doc that interlaces spectacular visuals with meaty chatter by various luminaries and laymen talking about life after being struck by lightning. Stewing on particulars—the how —is small news compared to examining why the emboldened club of 1-in-700,000 were hit and have since radically altered course. Baichwal chose to interview the latter camp and for that she’ll win over potential skeptics denouncing the work as a shocking flash rather than the riveting submission that it is. Expect the film to catch fire once it goes theatrical.

Author Paul Auster’s interview strategically narrates the film. Few can speak how they write; he is one of those few. At 14, he witnessed a biblical storm brewing at sleep-away camp. The story hammers home the sky’s scarring fury—even now. He reads aloud from his narrative, “It’s as if weapons materialized from the sky.” Auster admits that the moment when he, ducking under a fence, saw a boy blasted by a bolt has “deeply implanted in all the work I’ve done.” The “monumental” moment has found its way into his prose. As if the surge from that night is connected to every character and tale that has been bound and book-shelved.

If Auster has managed to master storytelling from terror, experimental musician Fred Frith is transfixed with sound. For a clinical study, Frith gets fitted for a latex helmet with a spaghetti bowl of wires plugged into a supercomputer while improvising with chopsticks and empty tuna cans strumming his electric guitar. He speaks with his music and it’s hardcore tempest reenactments with spiraling beginnings and whispering ends.

The film gets preachy with ex-infantryman Dannion Brinkley’s overtures about coming back from death after being struck. He’s a do-gooder—helps war vets die with honor and dignity. As he wanders around Las Vegas wearing Elvis-meets-Moses regalia he portrays himself to know both sides of the veil. In Cuba, Santeria-inspired clans parade and sacrifice chickens to appease Shango: the god of thunder and lightning. In a heavily Catholic-dominated sect, it’s compelling to see the faiths intermix without incident. Deep in a Mexican villa, a cross sits atop a mountain where lightning has struck several times. The summit is a resting place for two toddlers who were killed by a thunderbolt. Their undaunted mother is arrested by the sky’s power and turns to religion to make sense of the senseless. “Only He knows. I can’t argue with that,” head shaking, eyes welling.

The doc’s themes deal with both the physical and metaphysical questions behind lightning. Those that have been hit by charcoal-causing close encounter seem forever lit by it; here dogma and science friction indirectly with each other. Paul Auster advocates that the helter skelter stampede in the sky is “something monumental” but doesn’t call it divine. Still, a scientist is consumed with the “mechanics of reality” while poring over the diagnostics of an experimental musician’s struck noggin. The medley of voices and scientific segues offer a balanced stew. The film doesn’t favor one over another, nor does it rule anything out. Most of those touched-by-lightning are tussling with universal questions. The white coats, too. No Eureka moment results, but the terrain covered is far and fruitful.

Distributor: Zeitgeist Films
Director: Jennifer Baichwal
Producers: Jennifer Baichwal and Nick De Pencier
Genre: Documentary
Rating: Unrated
Running time: 76 min.
Release date: November 4 NY