ART HOUSED: LOUDER THAN A BOMB

Meet the Stienmenauts. Clad in green hoodies, cocky, competitive, loud and laughing everywhere they go, this “team” of inner-city Chicago high-schoolers may not look the part of a poet (no beards, peacoats, or apparent mental illnesses to speak of), but their passion for poetry is so intense, it literally possesses their bodies in a virulent form of spoken word known as poetry slam.

In Greg Jacobs and John Siskel’s documentary Louder Than a Bomb, which opened at the Coolidge this past Friday, we follow the Stienmenauts and other Chicago teams as they prepare to compete in the world’s largest slam competition, Louder Than a Bomb.

Inspiring is a word I don’t care for. It’s too sentimental, too sweeping. But this film earns it. In terms of finding the right subjects, Jacobs and Siskel are without a doubt two of the world’s luckiest documentary filmmakers. You can only laugh, sometimes even cry at how strong, bright, and remarkable the young people in this film are.

We listen to Nova, a girl from River Forest High, confidentially relate to us the story of her drunk, abusive father, and the pain and love of raising her diabetic and autistic younger brother alone. Minutes later she’s on stage in front of at least a hundred other students, loud and panting, brave and vulnerable, letting her story be heard in every corner of the room. When she walks off, she’s practically swallowed up in the hugs and praises of other students. It’s only one moment in a film so rich with emotion, it’s almost embarrassing. An outstanding hip-hop soundtrack, dynamic editing, and lack of voice narration keep the film quick and lively to the end, but even a lesser director couldn’t quiet the wonderful noise these poets make.