Tessa Blake's "Five Wives, Three Secretaries and Me" is an odd piece of work which slowly and patiently mesmerizes the viewer, reeling us to a surprisingly poignant ending. Early on in "Five Wives..." I was sure I had the film all figured out -- an often hilarious if somewhat simplistic portrait of the film-maker's father and his wacky, worldly friends. The old coot is an interesting mix of traits: charming, cranky, controlling, creative and -- as one might expect from an 87-year-old southerner -- a racist. But then the film takes a sudden turn for the serious when film-maker/daughter Tessa reveals she lives with a black man. And again, I thought, "oh, I see where this going...a subtle hatchet job on the evils of racism." And again I was surprised to discover that the boyfriend is really only a metaphor for what stands between father and daughter -- not only politics, but age, geography, perspective. One wonders how these two people can ever find a solution. One wonders how this old guy, as the protagonist of a narrative (and make no mistake, this IS a narrative film), can ever evolve enough to effect a change in his world. And herein lies the third surprise of "Five Wives..." Tom Blake, charming old coot that he is, isn't our hero at all -- film-maker Tessa herself is the one we watch change and grow over the course of a few short, rich scenes, and it is Tessa who is able to make the tiniest of changes in her father's world, if only by learning to be herself. The film concludes with a scene that is either devastating or full of hope depending on your perspective...I like to think I know which Tessa had in mind. No matter how you crack it, it's a bittersweet tale at best. This film is perhaps the best personal documentary/memoir I have ever seen -- certainly the best of that new generation of films which includes the very moving "Dear Jesse" and the interesting, if less successful, "Family Secrets." And lest these comments mislead, let me be clear that the film is also a riot, with actual belly-laughs amid the drama. But the real meat here isn't the comedy, it's the intelligent examination of a culture and a family. This is grown-up film-making for a grown-up audience, and it doesn't beg to be liked. Blake is a patient film-maker, and the film evolves with a languid southern speed. It can be agony waiting for molasses to fall from the jar, but the meal is worth the wait.
