As Conversations With a Killer: The Charles Manson Tapes hits Netflix, director Joe Berlinger explains why we keep talking about the most-covered case in true-crime history

As Conversations With a Killer: The Charles Manson Tapes hits Netflix, director Joe Berlinger explains why we keep talking about the most-covered case in true-crime history

Hello friends,

One of the first newsletters I ever wrote was about how I was using my fear of sounding like ChatGPT as a motivational tool to level up my writing. Basically: how to make sure everything I write sounds human.

Now, with Substack’s addition of Pangram, readers can run my text through an A.I. detection filter to find out whether it was fully written by A.I., fully written by a human, or some other extremely precise answer like 76% Human, 24% A.I.

We probably need tools like this — they sure are useful to institutions and other well-resourced people — but the problem right now is that A.I. detection tests appear to be about as accurate as lie detector tests.

Which is to say, not at all accurate.

So now, the last step of my newsletter writing process is running it through an app to find out if it is being flagged as A.I. Then I have to guess what I did in my writing to make me fail the test, and rewrite it until I pass.

It’s like a CAPTCHA, but for proving you have a soul.

It’s also a dumb test that’s easy to game.

Once a straight-A student, always a straight-A student.

How it works now:

I write the post, and it’s not until I get to the PUBLISH page that I can run it through the test. The test usually comes up 100% Human but sometimes it’s like, 85% Human, 15% A.I., and I freak out. So I have to go back in.

Sometimes, this results in good edits! I will rewrite stuff that I can admit is a little too generic. I can insert more concrete details. I can use more color. All good stuff that makes it sound — not really more HUMAN, but more like GOOD WRITING, or at least more vivid writing.

The thing I want to point out is that this is a polish pass I might not have the hours or resources to do right now; the newsletter does not make enough money to justify more than a certain number of hours per week on it. But I am a straight-A student, damn it, and sure, if doing the HUMAN test is just forcing me to do more editing: fine.

But sometimes, doing this pass doesn’t get me to 100% Human, and there’s more stuff I have to go back in and change. This is when it gets stupid, IMO. Here I need to look for formatting quirks, or turns of phrase, that happen to be associated with A.I.-generated writing these days. Now I’m just undoing perfectly good writing, just because it seems to be similar to what A.I. writing sounds like currently.

Presumably, those systems learn what “human writing” looks like from reading things humans wrote. Now, humans have to change how we write to satisfy those systems? Also, in case you’re curious: I can ask ChatGPT “make this sound more human” and it does a pretty good job of rewriting to pass the test.

Does any of this make sense??? What are we doing?

Friends: I CHOOSE TO LOL.

I don’t think I should be writing toward a machine that devoured like, all of human civilization, in order to come up with its idea of what 100% HUMAN sounds like. A shark does not become human by eating enough people.

I understand institutions — like universities and edited magazines — need something like this test to see if students are cheating or journalists are not writing their pieces. But for me, do I? Does someone reading my newsletter need it? I don’t know.

This is not a complaint about Pangram specifically. The test may get better. Maybe someday it will become perfectly accurate, or we’ll use some other kind of metadata or watermarking, or maybe we’ll just stop caring about this whole issue and reward writing that strikes us as good and interesting — and simply ignore writing we think is lame and sounds like A.I. Because who cares???

Yeah! Who cares anyway??

I don’t want us all writing toward the machine-administered HUMAN TEST, especially when it’s so unreliable and just makes us do dumb stuff that is not really about being human. As I wrote back in December, good writing will always sound more human than not good writing, but we should all find our own idiosyncratic ways toward that goal.

And anyway, writers have always adjusted their writing to satisfy various systems, right? Marketing logics, house styles, standardized tests, search-engine optimization, MFA programs, genre conventions… many different institutions have always trained writers to write toward particular standards, through both reward and punishment.

The fun new part is that the machine isn’t merely calling your writing unsuccessful, unfashionable or bad. Now it gets to call you A FAILED HUMAN. For what it’s worth, I know teachers and editors need tools like this, but I can say for myself, having played around with this tool: being told by a machine I am not even a human is very insulting, and makes me feel bad about myself, and doesn’t make me love writing more than I did before that.

I probably won’t be continuing to “check” my own writing against Pangram. I have better uses for the final hours before my weekly deadline, other ways to serve the reader instead of passing this dumb test. Again, I always devote as much time to editing my writing to make it as good as possible, within a reasonable timeframe, on a weekly deadline. If I want to be able to spend more time editing and improving each piece, what I need to do is continue to do good work and hope I earn more paid subscriptions to support the time and effort it takes to do it.

ANYWAY,

Pangram says this newsletter is 100% HUMAN.

But I did have to rewrite a couple parts of it to make that happen.

Comings, Goings, & News

Substack Live Alert!
Wednesday 8/19, 4:30pm ET
”How to Make a Small Film Feel Like a Big Deal: Social Media That Moves the Needle”
With Dor Dotson and Matt Delman (Genuine Impression)

Matt and Dor are the experienced social media strategists currently running the Wild Inside social media and marketing strategy. One thing they said that struck me: “For us, the question is always how do we create something special without spending lavishly? We’ve found that having a robust film-specific organic campaign, combined with a targeted ad spend, can move the needle.” On Wednesday, we will talk about how.

Questions I will ask include:

• What does “moving the needle” actually mean — and which numbers matter?

• How do organic content and paid advertising work together? What’s the best move you can make if your ad spend is realistically close to zero?

• When should a film’s social media campaign begin? Should you concentrate on one platform, or try to be everywhere?

• What makes people engage with a post about a film they haven’t seen?

• How much should the filmmaker personally appear in the campaign? Should she, umm, get into it in the comments? Asking for a friend…

• What are the most common mistakes independent filmmakers make on social media?

• And, of course: How did we get over a million people to watch a trailer for an independent documentary about an owl? What can we take away from that kind of engagement?

Wild Inside Theatrical Going Strong in Week 3!

We’ve booked close to 100 theaters now. More sold-out shows — I’ve seen people being turned away!!?! definitely a new experience for me — 100% on RT — most importantly, I am just over the moon with the way audiences are showing up, loving it, laughing, crying, hugging their friends who went to the theater with them, asking smart questions and posting their (mostly) thoughtful responses online. I’ve also been really impressed with & inspired by how well the community engagement work is going. As many on this platform are constantly pointing out, local partnerships are the secret to getting people into theaters. And I’m thrilled the film is providing a platform for local birding / wildlife / conservation groups to get the word out about their important work.

Anyway: most engagements are both BRIEF and HAPPENING RIGHT NOW, so do not delay getting a ticket if you are interested in seeing the movie! ICYMI, I share much more of Flaco’s Odyssey — and our odyssey of releasing it — on Instagram. Also: buy merch: I promise you’ll get compliments on it.

You Know I Hardly Ever Do This: Please Support This Newsletter

FREE SUBSCRIBERS: I LOVE YOU! If you ever find the ideas in this newsletter helpful for your studies, influential on your art-making, just as idle entertainment or even something to hate-read (no judgment, haters are welcome!) — please consider upgrading to paid.

It’s only $6/month to subscribe, and it really does help keep the lights on. Paid subscribers get access to the full unpaywalled archive, including my more time-intensive, instructive, and revealing writing.

PAID SUBSCRIBERS: I LOVE YOU EVEN MORE! If you’ve ever forwarded this newsletter to a non-subscriber because you knew they’d love it (or hate it), or used the newsletter to help with a classroom discussion, or just really love my films and want to help me keep making them… please consider becoming a Founding Member.

You can be a Founding Member by upping your annual subscription of $66 to any number over that — like, you can pay $67 and get to call yourself a Founding Member. (At $240/year, Founding Members also get a one-on-one consultation with me.)

Maybe I’ll open the chat for Founding Members only, would that be fun?

Hello friends,

One of the first newsletters I ever wrote was about how I was using my fear of sounding like ChatGPT as a motivational tool to level up my writing. Basically: how to make sure everything I write sounds human.

Now, with Substack’s addition of Pangram, readers can run my text through an A.I. detection filter to find out whether it was fully written by A.I., fully written by a human, or some other extremely precise answer like 76% Human, 24% A.I.

We probably need tools like this — they sure are useful to institutions and other well-resourced people — but the problem right now is that A.I. detection tests appear to be about as accurate as lie detector tests.

Which is to say, not at all accurate.

So now, the last step of my newsletter writing process is running it through an app to find out if it is being flagged as A.I. Then I have to guess what I did in my writing to make me fail the test, and rewrite it until I pass.

It’s like a CAPTCHA, but for proving you have a soul.

It’s also a dumb test that’s easy to game.

Once a straight-A student, always a straight-A student.

How it works now:

I write the post, and it’s not until I get to the PUBLISH page that I can run it through the test. The test usually comes up 100% Human but sometimes it’s like, 85% Human, 15% A.I., and I freak out. So I have to go back in.

Sometimes, this results in good edits! I will rewrite stuff that I can admit is a little too generic. I can insert more concrete details. I can use more color. All good stuff that makes it sound — not really more HUMAN, but more like GOOD WRITING, or at least more vivid writing.

The thing I want to point out is that this is a polish pass I might not have the hours or resources to do right now; the newsletter does not make enough money to justify more than a certain number of hours per week on it. But I am a straight-A student, damn it, and sure, if doing the HUMAN test is just forcing me to do more editing: fine.

But sometimes, doing this pass doesn’t get me to 100% Human, and there’s more stuff I have to go back in and change. This is when it gets stupid, IMO. Here I need to look for formatting quirks, or turns of phrase, that happen to be associated with A.I.-generated writing these days. Now I’m just undoing perfectly good writing, just because it seems to be similar to what A.I. writing sounds like currently.

Presumably, those systems learn what “human writing” looks like from reading things humans wrote. Now, humans have to change how we write to satisfy those systems? Also, in case you’re curious: I can ask ChatGPT “make this sound more human” and it does a pretty good job of rewriting to pass the test.

Does any of this make sense??? What are we doing?

Friends: I CHOOSE TO LOL.

I don’t think I should be writing toward a machine that devoured like, all of human civilization, in order to come up with its idea of what 100% HUMAN sounds like. A shark does not become human by eating enough people.

I understand institutions — like universities and edited magazines — need something like this test to see if students are cheating or journalists are not writing their pieces. But for me, do I? Does someone reading my newsletter need it? I don’t know.

This is not a complaint about Pangram specifically. The test may get better. Maybe someday it will become perfectly accurate, or we’ll use some other kind of metadata or watermarking, or maybe we’ll just stop caring about this whole issue and reward writing that strikes us as good and interesting — and simply ignore writing we think is lame and sounds like A.I. Because who cares???

Yeah! Who cares anyway??

I don’t want us all writing toward the machine-administered HUMAN TEST, especially when it’s so unreliable and just makes us do dumb stuff that is not really about being human. As I wrote back in December, good writing will always sound more human than not good writing, but we should all find our own idiosyncratic ways toward that goal.

And anyway, writers have always adjusted their writing to satisfy various systems, right? Marketing logics, house styles, standardized tests, search-engine optimization, MFA programs, genre conventions… many different institutions have always trained writers to write toward particular standards, through both reward and punishment.

The fun new part is that the machine isn’t merely calling your writing unsuccessful, unfashionable or bad. Now it gets to call you A FAILED HUMAN. For what it’s worth, I know teachers and editors need tools like this, but I can say for myself, having played around with this tool: being told by a machine I am not even a human is very insulting, and makes me feel bad about myself, and doesn’t make me love writing more than I did before that.

I probably won’t be continuing to “check” my own writing against Pangram. I have better uses for the final hours before my weekly deadline, other ways to serve the reader instead of passing this dumb test. Again, I always devote as much time to editing my writing to make it as good as possible, within a reasonable timeframe, on a weekly deadline. If I want to be able to spend more time editing and improving each piece, what I need to do is continue to do good work and hope I earn more paid subscriptions to support the time and effort it takes to do it.

ANYWAY,

Pangram says this newsletter is 100% HUMAN.

But I did have to rewrite a couple parts of it to make that happen.

Comings, Goings, & News

Substack Live Alert!
Wednesday 8/19, 4:30pm ET
”How to Make a Small Film Feel Like a Big Deal: Social Media That Moves the Needle”
With Dor Dotson and Matt Delman (Genuine Impression)

Matt and Dor are the experienced social media strategists currently running the Wild Inside social media and marketing strategy. One thing they said that struck me: “For us, the question is always how do we create something special without spending lavishly? We’ve found that having a robust film-specific organic campaign, combined with a targeted ad spend, can move the needle.” On Wednesday, we will talk about how.

Questions I will ask include:

• What does “moving the needle” actually mean — and which numbers matter?

• How do organic content and paid advertising work together? What’s the best move you can make if your ad spend is realistically close to zero?

• When should a film’s social media campaign begin? Should you concentrate on one platform, or try to be everywhere?

• What makes people engage with a post about a film they haven’t seen?

• How much should the filmmaker personally appear in the campaign? Should she, umm, get into it in the comments? Asking for a friend…

• What are the most common mistakes independent filmmakers make on social media?

• And, of course: How did we get over a million people to watch a trailer for an independent documentary about an owl? What can we take away from that kind of engagement?

Wild Inside Theatrical Going Strong in Week 3!

We’ve booked close to 100 theaters now. More sold-out shows — I’ve seen people being turned away!!?! definitely a new experience for me — 100% on RT — most importantly, I am just over the moon with the way audiences are showing up, loving it, laughing, crying, hugging their friends who went to the theater with them, asking smart questions and posting their (mostly) thoughtful responses online. I’ve also been really impressed with & inspired by how well the community engagement work is going. As many on this platform are constantly pointing out, local partnerships are the secret to getting people into theaters. And I’m thrilled the film is providing a platform for local birding / wildlife / conservation groups to get the word out about their important work.

Anyway: most engagements are both BRIEF and HAPPENING RIGHT NOW, so do not delay getting a ticket if you are interested in seeing the movie! ICYMI, I share much more of Flaco’s Odyssey — and our odyssey of releasing it — on Instagram. Also: buy merch: I promise you’ll get compliments on it.

You Know I Hardly Ever Do This: Please Support This Newsletter

FREE SUBSCRIBERS: I LOVE YOU! If you ever find the ideas in this newsletter helpful for your studies, influential on your art-making, just as idle entertainment or even something to hate-read (no judgment, haters are welcome!) — please consider upgrading to paid.

It’s only $6/month to subscribe, and it really does help keep the lights on. Paid subscribers get access to the full unpaywalled archive, including my more time-intensive, instructive, and revealing writing.

PAID SUBSCRIBERS: I LOVE YOU EVEN MORE! If you’ve ever forwarded this newsletter to a non-subscriber because you knew they’d love it (or hate it), or used the newsletter to help with a classroom discussion, or just really love my films and want to help me keep making them… please consider becoming a Founding Member.

You can be a Founding Member by upping your annual subscription of $66 to any number over that — like, you can pay $67 and get to call yourself a Founding Member. (At $240/year, Founding Members also get a one-on-one consultation with me.)

Maybe I’ll open the chat for Founding Members only, would that be fun?

In 1982, Robb Moss released Riverdogs, a short documentary about his friends whom he lived and worked with as part of a naturalist community of Grand Canyon adventurers and guides. Twenty years later, he revisited the subjects of Riverdogs for the feature-length film The Same River Twice. Now he’s back with them for The Bend in the River, as he and his characters enter their golden years. I had not seen the first two films, but that wasn’t a problem. Similar to being able to jump into the Up series with any installment, you can enter this trilogy with its third film and get up to speed quickly. Moss includes clips from the previous two documentaries when necessary and relevant for such flashbacks, so there’s no reference point missed.

Unlike the Up documentaries, this series has put a greater distance between installments, and revisiting characters every 20 years instead of seven really breaks life into stages of getting older. This isn’t limited to just nonfiction. Plenty of dramas have made the point of portraying middle-aged reunions of people reflecting on their lives in their twenties. Getting them together in their late sixties and early seventies, the years associated with retirement age, offers another poignant point for deep reflection. “Our legacy has to be more than salad bars and Clinton,” one of the friends remarks, as the film touches on the impact made by that generation, not their nostalgia. Climate change is addressed, as Moss considers the life of the planet and the environment that was so important to these friends half a century ago, parallel to the aging of the people themselves.

But the part of The Bend in the River I found most fascinating deals with the impact of the series itself. Some of the characters reflect on having been recognized in public for their appearances in the previous films, and for one of them, a political career is threatened by statements and actions made on screen. Interestingly enough, Moss shows how the past documentary footage can also be used favorably as well as negatively depending on the extent and context of that material. This documentary is going to resonate more with viewers in the same age bracket as its subjects, but it’s surprisingly profound on themes that affect any of us and, more briefly, on niche ideas concerning the pros and cons of being a documentary subject, which nonfiction nerds like myself can appreciate. Fans of nudism films will also enjoy the old Riverdogs clips.

The opening scene of American Doctor involves a debate between the filmmaker (Poh Si Teng) and one of the documentary’s participants (Dr. Mark Perlmutter) over whether or not to show uncensored images of dead children. It’s the most interesting part of the film and reminded me of so many documentaries in the past that have featured children’s bodies being dug out of rubble, dead babies in hospital rooms, and small caskets being made for the youngest civilian casualties of war. These images are indeed important to show, and are very powerful, but they also seem to be exploited. In documentaries, they’re film props, even if they’re necessary and effective as such. Showing pictures of a murdered child famously sparked the American civil rights movement. Perhaps images of bloodied infants can end a genocide too?

American Doctor is an Oscar-contending documentary about three individuals who fit the film’s title and have traveled to Gaza to offer medical assistance during the current war between Israel and Palestine. Two of the doctors, one of them Jewish, the other the son of Pakistan-born Zoroastrians, are filmed on their latest trip. The third, who is of Palestinian descent, remains in the U.S. after being denied another visit. The documentary’s premise sounds like the setup of a joke involving three men of different religions entering a bar, but is certainly not treated that way. It also sounds as forced as including obligatory footage of dead children. It’s actually more of a coincidence (though the film or its marketing acting as though the Pakistani-American trauma surgeon is himself a true Zoroastrian is a stretch to fit the conceit). And ultimately, it hardly matters what faith or religious ancestry might define these physicians. The point is more that they’re Americans politically and morally opposed to the war and especially to the bombing of hospitals.

Perlmutter and his featured colleagues, Dr. Feroze Sidhwa and Dr. Thaer Ahmad, are heroes for helping to save lives despite the risks of them being the next incidental victims of targeted airstrikes. But this film isn’t about championing their bravery or portraying them in action, à la the subjects of such documentaries as Feras Fayyad’s Last Men in Aleppo and The Cave, the latter of which also involves hospital workers in danger of being bombed. American Doctor is a lot more discussion-driven. These men also make appearances on cable news programs to give witness accounts of what they’ve seen in Gaza. There is a revelatory moment that’s key to the focus of the documentary when one of the film’s stars is hearing a local doctor tell of the death of their child, and Teng keeps the camera on the American the whole time as his eyes well up with tears. I can imagine her wanting to turn the lens toward the audience next, as it’s all about getting a reaction. I can’t deny its effectiveness in doing so.

The opening scene of American Doctor involves a debate between the filmmaker (Poh Si Teng) and one of the documentary’s participants (Dr. Mark Perlmutter) over whether or not to show uncensored images of dead children. It’s the most interesting part of the film and reminded me of so many documentaries in the past that have featured children’s bodies being dug out of rubble, dead babies in hospital rooms, and small caskets being made for the youngest civilian casualties of war. These images are indeed important to show, and are very powerful, but they also seem to be exploited. In documentaries, they’re film props, even if they’re necessary and effective as such. Showing pictures of a murdered child famously sparked the American civil rights movement. Perhaps images of bloodied infants can end a genocide too?

American Doctor is an Oscar-contending documentary about three individuals who fit the film’s title and have traveled to Gaza to offer medical assistance during the current war between Israel and Palestine. Two of the doctors, one of them Jewish, the other the son of Pakistan-born Zoroastrians, are filmed on their latest trip. The third, who is of Palestinian descent, remains in the U.S. after being denied another visit. The documentary’s premise sounds like the setup of a joke involving three men of different religions entering a bar, but is certainly not treated that way. It also sounds as forced as including obligatory footage of dead children. It’s actually more of a coincidence (though the film or its marketing acting as though the Pakistani-American trauma surgeon is himself a true Zoroastrian is a stretch to fit the conceit). And ultimately, it hardly matters what faith or religious ancestry might define these physicians. The point is more that they’re Americans politically and morally opposed to the war and especially to the bombing of hospitals.

Perlmutter and his featured colleagues, Dr. Feroze Sidhwa and Dr. Thaer Ahmad, are heroes for helping to save lives despite the risks of them being the next incidental victims of targeted airstrikes. But this film isn’t about championing their bravery or portraying them in action, à la the subjects of such documentaries as Feras Fayyad’s Last Men in Aleppo and The Cave, the latter of which also involves hospital workers in danger of being bombed. American Doctor is a lot more discussion-driven. These men also make appearances on cable news programs to give witness accounts of what they’ve seen in Gaza. There is a revelatory moment that’s key to the focus of the documentary when one of the film’s stars is hearing a local doctor tell of the death of their child, and Teng keeps the camera on the American the whole time as his eyes well up with tears. I can imagine her wanting to turn the lens toward the audience next, as it’s all about getting a reaction. I can’t deny its effectiveness in doing so.

In 1982, Robb Moss released Riverdogs, a short documentary about his friends whom he lived and worked with as part of a naturalist community of Grand Canyon adventurers and guides. Twenty years later, he revisited the subjects of Riverdogs for the feature-length film The Same River Twice. Now he’s back with them for The Bend in the River, as he and his characters enter their golden years. I had not seen the first two films, but that wasn’t a problem. Similar to being able to jump into the Up series with any installment, you can enter this trilogy with its third film and get up to speed quickly. Moss includes clips from the previous two documentaries when necessary and relevant for such flashbacks, so there’s no reference point missed.

Unlike the Up documentaries, this series has put a greater distance between installments, and revisiting characters every 20 years instead of seven really breaks life into stages of getting older. This isn’t limited to just nonfiction. Plenty of dramas have made the point of portraying middle-aged reunions of people reflecting on their lives in their twenties. Getting them together in their late sixties and early seventies, the years associated with retirement age, offers another poignant point for deep reflection. “Our legacy has to be more than salad bars and Clinton,” one of the friends remarks, as the film touches on the impact made by that generation, not their nostalgia. Climate change is addressed, as Moss considers the life of the planet and the environment that was so important to these friends half a century ago, parallel to the aging of the people themselves.

But the part of The Bend in the River I found most fascinating deals with the impact of the series itself. Some of the characters reflect on having been recognized in public for their appearances in the previous films, and for one of them, a political career is threatened by statements and actions made on screen. Interestingly enough, Moss shows how the past documentary footage can also be used favorably as well as negatively depending on the extent and context of that material. This documentary is going to resonate more with viewers in the same age bracket as its subjects, but it’s surprisingly profound on themes that affect any of us and, more briefly, on niche ideas concerning the pros and cons of being a documentary subject, which nonfiction nerds like myself can appreciate. Fans of nudism films will also enjoy the old Riverdogs clips.

Maite Alberdi, who has already had two documentary features nominated for Academy Awards this decade, is back with another unique nonfiction film. A Child of My Own tells the story of a hospital worker who faked her pregnancy and stole a newborn from the maternity ward to pass off as her own. This woman, Eleonor “Ale” Alejandra Marín Mendoza, gives her side of the case in voiceover as her account is depicted in dramatized fashion with actors and a candy-colored visual scheme. Normally, this level of “reenactment” would turn me off. The performances and production design held my attention, however, even as I wondered if the documentary was going anywhere more interesting than a literal representation.

About halfway into A Child of My Own, the film becomes more conventional, with talking head interviews and footage of the real Mendoza in her present life as she prepares to leave prison (with occasional dramatizations still sprinkled in). This section unveils at least one big twist, though it’s not a concrete rejection of what we’ve heard in the first half. Psychology, belief, and memory are involved as much as truth and lies. Audiences may be split on what they think of Mendoza in the end. The thing about documentaries where the truth is uncertain is that there’s less room for empathy. You can’t be sure of the shoes you’re meant to walk in. So it comes down to whether you sympathize with the subject.

I have watched the ending of A Child of My Own a few times and still haven’t decided what I think of the real Mendoza. I like the portrayed version in the first half of the film a lot, and it may take another full viewing to sync the two up enough to even sympathize with the genuine — or actual, at least — version. As for the film, I’m also not completely decided on whether I like it or love it. I also might grow to dislike it the more I think about its story. But I can’t deny its originality in form and aesthetic, which engaged me unlike anything else I’ve seen this year. Alberdi continues to make singular nonfiction films, and while I haven’t enjoyed them all as much as the Oscars have, I definitely appreciate her creative efforts in this space.

The titular coroner, Dr. Thomas Noguchi, is currently 99 years old. I don’t know how old he was when he was interviewed for Coroner to the Stars, but he was old enough to be thankful he was still alive and able to tell his own story. I prefer having biographical documentary subjects tell their own stories, or at least as much as firsthand familiarity be…

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