Nobody's Business (1996, Alan Berliner) (Patreon)

64/100

Fascinating paradox at work here: Berliner's father, Oscar, spends the entire documentary insisting that no audience could possibly give a shit about his boring, uneventful life...and he'd probably have been right, except that his belligerent, grudging semi-cooperation provides the film with its hook. That's not to say that there's nothing inherently interesting about Oscar (I'm gonna call him by his first name, for clarity's sake; "Berliner" signifies Alan, the director), who's a fairly representative first-generation immigrant*; if it's a portrait of (very) slowly shifting cultural attitudes you seek, with each successive dad marginally less toxic, Nobody's Business delivers. There's also genuine sadness in hearing Oscar describe his typical day, which involves so much resigned loneliness that he more or less schedules a chat with his building's doorman, just so that he can exchange words with somebody on days when neither of his kids happens to call. Plus we get compelling insight from Berliner's mother (whose life actually seems more doc-worthy on paper)—it’s quite touching to see her retroactively forgive her son for answering selfishly when asked (by Dad) whether he'd prefer that Mom be unhappy here at home or happy somewhere else apart from him. (Posing that horrific question to a child is itself grounds for divorce.) Mostly, though, it's Oscar's nonstop irascibility that entertains. "Can't you just share my fascination?" Berliner implores after recounting some family history he's uncovered via diligent research. "The answer's no, zero, no, next question." Confronted with virtually any simple factual statement, such as the likelihood of his personal records being stored on microfilm in a Utah vault, the old man demands to know "Proves what? Means what?" It's a comparatively tender moment when he sarcastically apologizes for being unable to work up any enthusiasm. That probably couldn't have sustained a 90-minute feature (and this film can't remotely match First Cousin Once Removed for depth and richness), but Berliner wisely keeps it under an hour and I never did stop laughing. 

* By which I mean he was born in the United States to immigrant parents. Apparently that phrase is also frequently used to describe immigrants themselves, and there's no consensus re: which definition is correct. Though it seems to me that "immigrant" covers the latter just fine.