Emoticons is a kind of grim, sometimes creepy and often depressing slog through a phenomenon that certainly exists, but bears only a glancing similarity to what's presented. Six women ranging in age from 14-years-old to middle age tell stories of finding solace and companionship in online relationships. Central to each woman's story is emotional pain - one is teased mercilessly at school, one is a rape victim, and one lost her mother to breast cancer, for example. All find something missing from their in-person relationships, compassion and understanding mostly, but all are able to discover some level of fulfillment online.

Doleful interviews of the traditional sort, and also in the form of filmed web-cam chats, comprise most of Emoticons. There's hardly a scrap of music, and many interviewees are allowed ample time to ramble (I'm going to hell to be this petty) in morose, syrupy voices, with lots of dead air in amongst the angst-filled words. Stretches of time are even occasionally employed to watch people simply tapping away at keyboards. It's enervating viewing to say the least.

Filmmaker Heddy Honigmann ultimately wrings a sense of hope out of her arid scenarios, most happily from the heartbreaking story of the girl bullied at school. But it's cold comfort from a blandly presented set of oft-times bland stories. It's also a far cry from detailing real Internet addiction, of the hours, days and relationships lost to the modem - only bullied Saskia betrays any overuse of the medium, and she's a bullied teen, so what do you expect? These women generally use the tool to find a way for healing, and most all of them go on to meet their online friends in real life (IRL for you addicts reading this). Put callously, if watching a slow moving, sometimes creepy, airless, music-less documentary about depressed teenagers writing poetry online depicts Internet addiction, then I'm jonesing for something more fulfilling, and I need a fix.

Luckily the second half of this documentary, There Goes My Heart (directed by co-producer John Appel) gets it right. Appel's wistful vignettes of elderly Dutch heroin addicts contain the fix we need: actual junkies, engaging editing, gorgeous music, humor and beautifully tragic stories.

At the world's first retirement home for aging addicts a small group of elderly folks live in languid pathos. With ages ranging from 53 to 68, this story's characters push the notion of what a senior citizen is, but while shakily cooking heroin in their tiny rooms, they are most definitely Dutch Junkies. Appel crafts a sly, gently revealing documentary that foregoes most documentary clichés. Super-graphics reveal names and ages unobtrusively, but for the most part cameras are just on, with astute editing pulling portraits like wispy trails of blood into a syringe. One-on-one interviews seem hardly there; mostly our seniors appear simply to regale each other in shambolic monologues, (as druggies are often wont to do) allowing fragments of their lives to appear naturally. Subjects do address the camera with specifics, in answer to unheard queries from Appel, yet as these bits are woven into snippets of the daily drama of the home, the result is a lyrical, transparent window into several souls damaged or drugged beyond compare.

Appel captures humor and sorrow in equal measure. A 58-year-old addict named Carmel (and self-proclaimed schizophrenic with multiple personalities) is a tragicomic personage reminiscent of Bette Davis crossed with PJ Harvey. Her tempestuous power to alienate herself from everyone while drawing them all together mimics the camaraderie found among drug buddies, and a tirade during which she switches randomly from Dutch to English and back is fascinating and disturbing.

A number of things make the nut for Appel; sonorous music, stories gripping as only addict's stories are, and editing that perfectly matches the subject. Drawn out shots of shaky hands blindly searching a paper for drug scraps coolly hypnotize before quickly cutting to images of that first hit and delicious rush. Fond, measured takes of a roguish junkie shuffling down a narrow hallway while Nat King Cole croons on the soundtrack are a lilting coda for those living lives long lost.

The pair of stories in Dutch Junkies couldn't be more diametrically opposed. Honigmann's Emoticons uses the notion of Internet chat-room addiction to outline ultimately hopeful tales of women finding connections and healing online. A dry, somnolent atmosphere makes it mostly unrewarding viewing that leaves you aching for something more. That something is John Appel's There Goes My Heart, which provides a touching look at the shattered lives of a handful of aging Dutch heroin addicts living in a group home. Appel's subtle, artful direction reveals a fondness for the human heart and its foibles, rewarding viewers with realistic poignancy and sentimentality. Honigmann's work is a text message, Appel's, more like a song.

The DVD

Video:
Both features are presented in 1.85:1 widescreen ratio with varying qualities of picture presentation occurring in Emoticons. Obviously web-cam stuff is very low-res, though remaining incidental shots and interview sequences sport a fairly sharp look, with good colors. Low light sequences become grainy, seeming to lose resolution, while in general the look is one of a little too much noise reduction here and there, and just sort of a harsh, digital quality. There Goes My Heart looks a level better than Emoticons, with a more defined image, robust colors and a pretty good transfer. Some posterizing appears in this oft-times gauzy feature.

Sound:
Stereo Audio performs in workmanlike manner. Dialog is clear and understandable, and during There Goes My Heart the music sounds beautiful, not competing in the mix with dialog.

Extras:
Two brief (2 short paragraphs) Biographies give text rundowns of each esteemed filmmakers' career. Both have garnered laurels, indicating there's more to Honigmann's oeuvre than displayed here. Trailers for about six other Pathfinder documentaries run the gamut from features on various aspects of sex to domestic violence (among other things). English Subtitles come standard, but no Closed Captioning is available.

Final Thoughts:
This is a truly mixed bag of two documentaries in one, running about two hours in total length. Emoticons takes roughly an hour to swamp your brain with tedium, telling fairly drab stories of women finding hope through the Internet, sans music or much drama. There Goes My Heart takes the same amount of time to beguile you and break your heart with an artful glimpse into the collapsing lives of aging Dutch Junkies. With a 50/50 success rate, we can only recommend you Rent It.

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