While Larry set out to reopen his father's dream, he soon finds himself settling into other restaurants where he continued to make his beloved onion rings. Whether you're a foodie or not, onions rings can't carry a film, and the audience is quickly made aware that Larry, in particular, is not a good film subject. Quiet and unassuming, it's more than obvious that he wants to be left alone to fry his onion rings, content to lives his days out in the kitchen and spend time at home with his older sister, Linda.
A film novice with an addictive personality, Capp is both unwilling and unable to accept Larry for who he is. Therefore, what happens next is a wild goose chase to deliver the "perfect" documentary. The movie begins barreling down a path of confounding edits, poor judgment, and a clear infatuation with notoriety.
Though there is a warm layer of human interest that runs throughout the film, much of The Ringmaster is an engaging train wreck. In what becomes a three-plus-year saga, we watch Larry and then Capp's producing partners become increasingly determined to distance themselves with his manic compulsion to find the perfect ending as the director throws more and money into an already sinking shift.
Well-meaning, watching Capp inject himself into the film and Larry's life was cringing worthy. As the film's subject morphs, it shapes out to be the story of a rich kid, ambling along to find his life's purpose without having a true game plan or direction. It's incredibly uncomfortable as Capp pushes a clearly uncomfortable Larry toward opportunities he never asked for.
Since there is so much awry with The Ringmaster from the documentary and the subject's relationship to audio and editing, it should have gone up in flames. However, by handing the film over to Newberg and Molly Dworsky and taking a step back and finding the film within the film, the audience is left with an eye-opening saga about obsession, access, and the craft of storytelling.
The Ringmaster is currently on Amazon Prime.