Introduction:
If you haven’t watched Frank, my advice is simple: watch it.
The New Yorker documentary by David Gauvey Herbert is wholesome and heartwarming, reminding us of the good scattered around the world. Herbert is an expert at finding the humanity in the subjects he depicts and subtly convincing the audience why they should care.
Why should the audience care? In Frank, the star is a sweet older man resembling Carl from Up, who has a fantastic story. On the flip side, in Ren Faire for HBO, the audience cares primarily because of how unimaginably insane the cast is.
Now, why should you care about David Gauvey Herbert? His work is quite simply incredible. It is a concoction of entertainment and education that I strongly advise exploring.
Who is David Gauvey Herbert?
I’m a journalist by trade, and I’ve been a magazine journalist for a long time. I write for the New York Times Magazine, Business Week, New York, and Esquire. I’m obsessed with stories, particularly long-form stories set in distinct subcultures. Often, these stories are about people who have risen to become the kingpins of these subcultures, like the porta-potty industry, the lifeguard union in New York, or a weight loss camp for kids in upstate New York that one woman dominated for years. My work is very investigative, often funny, dramatic, Shakespearean, and hard-hitting.
Making Frank was a departure from that because Frank was a beloved litigator, not a tyrannical figure. He was a character full of life, refusing to quit, and that resonated with me. It was a blast spending a year with him.
As a filmmaker and writer, how do you choose what to cover?
I’m interested in stories with a Shakespearean arc that have these tragic figures trapped in worlds they’ve created. The story should be in conversation with its setting. For example, with Ren Faire, there are lots of guys that run companies that they don’t want to leave, but a guy who literally runs a Renaissance Festival where people are in the clothing of the Shakespearean play that it’s modeled after, it’s just too amazing
Or, I wrote this story about the lifeguard union in New York. There’s all this rampant corruption and power brokering in New York City labor politics. And if you’re writing about the librarians union, it wouldn’t be that interesting. But the fact that the lifeguards are supposed to be saving lives at the beach they watch, and yet, there’s this sopranos-level mafia angle to it. That is too delicious a combination.
How do you decide whether a piece should be written or visual?
That’s a good question. Sometimes it’s obvious it should be a documentary because of the archival material and ongoing stakes. If the interesting stuff is in the past, an article might be better. For Frank, focusing on his final years was more compelling than his whole career. You needed to see him in action to really believe his vitality.
With controversial subjects, how do you handle the ethical debate around giving them attention?
It’s hard to answer without specifics, but some people don’t need the oxygen of a documentary unless it’s to interrogate their power or fame. If it’s just to do PR, then no. Many celebrity documentaries today are more PR than journalism, which isn’t what I aim to create.
What core themes or messages did you intend to communicate through Frank?
I was initially interested in him because I couldn’t understand why he was still working. At first, I thought he didn’t know what to do if he retired, but he had plenty of hobbies. It was more that he believed in the power of the law and defending criminals to unearth their goodness. He believed in redemption, an old-school idea that’s hard to find today. It’s a very old-school idea that even if you’ve killed someone, you might have a kernel of goodness that people should help unearth.
He was a protector of this flame that is very hard to find these days, of people who fully believe in redemption, and he didn’t want to give up on that belief.
Frank‘s visual style is quite distinctive, which is impressive given the often mundane settings. What influenced your aesthetic choices, and how did you bring this vision to life?
Our cinematographer, Nate Hurtsellers, is a genius. He shot Ren Faire, which is how I met him. About three years ago, I introduced him to his wife, and he kind of owed me one.
We shot Frank in 4:3 to create a lived-in portrait feel, using spherical lenses for a timeless look. We were very intentional with our shots, especially in his office, which is like a museum to his career. It was important to capture Frank’s majesty at the end of his life.
What’s the most important thing you learned from Frank?
I learned a bunch of things from Frank. He told his office to be kind to one person every day, which I think about a lot.
He also was a big proponent of having daughters, and I have two. I got some pep talks about being a dad to daughters, as he had three daughters.
If you could make a documentary about anyone or anything, what would it be?
I was watching a video about the deepest hole ever dug in Russia, which got so hot near the Earth’s crust that they had to evacuate. There’s weird stuff happening underground, and a horror documentary set in that world would be fascinating.
What’s next for you? Do you have more projects lined up?
I’m working on magazine articles, a scripted show, and I’m definitely on the lookout for another documentary. I don’t know what it is yet, but there’s one coming.
Conclusion:
Some of David’s work is currently being adapted for TV, including stories about corruption in New York’s lifeguard union (Darren Aronofsky/Fox Searchlight), an epic feud between two Little League dads (Jason Bateman/Netflix), and the family drama at an iconic weight-loss camp for kids (Josh Gad/ABC Signature).
Make sure to watch Frank, and stay tuned for his future work.
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