In theory, Al Franken: God Spoke should work just fine. Cobbled together by A-list documentarians Chris Hegedus and Nick Doob (The War Room, A Perfect Candidate) over the lead-up to the 2004 presidential election, the film features Franken in a multitude of elements, each ostensibly vying against the others for superiority in his life: the Saturday Night Live alumnus with a joke for every moment; the devoted husband and father; the touring author and radio talk show host out to undermine the “lies” of “lying liars” Bill O’Reilly, Ann Coulter, Sean Hannity and, ultimately, President George W. Bush; and the political upstart mulling a Senate campaign in his native Minnesota. The dynamics leave room for drama, and the drama makes the doc.
Again, that is theory. And you do not need me to tell you theory is not practice; God Spoke (opening today in New York) proves that even a guy as gregarious and intelligent as Al Franken may make for documentary anemia if the surroundings–not the subject–generate the only tension at hand. Dosing out varying degrees of humor and outrage (an on-air chat with Hannity reveals both qualities; an explosive exchange with conservative radio host Michael Medved exposes only the latter), the filmmakers showcase a liberal reactionary disinclined to make a choice about anything until it is too late–the president is re-elected, Franken’s radio network limps along and the only influence worth acquiring is found to exist solely on Capitol Hill.
And while the title refers to a goofy introductory set piece re-enacting the divine inspiration that led Franken to crusading, the fact is that his story really starts on Nov. 2, 2004–when America rejected John Kerry and when the comic made the wrenching if necessary decision to pursue political change from the inside. By that point in the film, Hegedus and Doob are just winding down. Thus the paradox of God Spoke and of most contemporary liberal activism, really: It loses the plot.
“As a documentary filmmaker who makes films about real-life stories, you sort of have to go on hunches about things,” Hegedus told me during an interview late last month. “This was not as clear-cut as some of our other films. Like The War Room really had a built-in storyline: Will [Bill Clinton] win, or won’t he win? And this was a little more nebulous. But it seemed like Al was at a point of change and was going to take some risks, and that’s always an interesting point to start filming people. … There was something about Al’s determination and faith when Kerry lost that you knew he was going to have to make a decision to take another step and chose another path for himsef. And that became apparent bcaucse of Kerry losing. I don’t know if he would have done that if Kerry had won. It’s interesting to watch somebody look at their life kind of flashing in front of them and making a decision of that magnitude of responsibility. ”

Exactly–which is why I was stunned when Doob explained that he and Hegedus were not likely to continue shooting Franken during these formative months of his Senate campaign. “It’s a more personal story than that,” Doob said. “I could see it if that’s the sort of dramatic arc of it. But I think that what you’re seeing is kind of a change in this person over a period of time, which is what we were looking for. That, I think, is fulfilled. It works in the movie. It wasn’t a movie about John Kerry.”
So I posed the question to Franken: Does this movie work? Does it embody the continuing personal change in your life? Could there–should there–be more?
“There was so much,” Franken said. “I certainly didn’t have the time to think about what the film should be and how it should be edited. I think they did a great job. Now, would I have different things? Sure. Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t given it a tremendous amount of thought because I was powerless over it.” He laughed his huge, halting laugh. “I’m sure they would have allowed me in, but I didn’t have any time. And I like the film. I haven’t given it a tremendous amount of thought. Could it have beeen more about–what did you you want it to be more about? Me getting out the message?”
Well, that, or even just some sort of primary thread: Al Franken, regular guy; or Al Franken, comedian and political figure–
“I think they wanted to do both, and that’s why they did both,” he said. “I think there was probably a four-hour version that would have satisfied you. My kids aren’t in it, which was kind of disappointing to me; my son was at college, and my daughter was teaching. There was stuff with the kids, but it just didn’t show up.”
OK, well what about the audience for this film? Can it play outside the blue states and urban centers where his message is already perceived loud and clear?
“I think that’s a really good question, and I don’t know if…” Franken paused, then sighed. “You know, these things exist after they’re in the theaters. They have these things called DVD’s, and they have this thing called the Internet. And then there’s this thing called BBC, which really isn’t going to help us much in the red states. So I don’t… ”
Then Franken’s mobile phone rang. “Would you forgive me?” he asked. “I just… I don’t know who this is. I’m sorry.” He answered the phone. “Hello? … Yeah? … A Town Car. … Yes. … OK. … Yeah, yeah, please. Thank you.”
Franken hung up. “Yeah, I have no idea,” he continued. “As you know, I’m a marketing genius, but no–I have no idea who’s going to go see this.”
Oh, Al. I love him to death and hope I am wrong, but that makes two of us.

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