Very well executed

a film so unique, intoxicating and bizarre that it not only demands another viewing, but is also forgivable as a satirical comedy where the jokes eventually take the back seat.

Amazing worth wacthing. So good. Biased but well made with many good points.

One of the worst ways to make a cult movie is to set out to make a cult movie.

A well done documentary about how people react when the people and things they believe in turn out to be an illusion. Being from the 'liberal west coast', I've never understood how football could possibly reach the level of reverence it enjoys elsewhere. But here it is in all its glory... supported by hoards who seem more concerned with sportsball than anything else in their lives -- including justice for abused kids. Well okay, maybe they care for the kids as long as the football games don't stop and no one attacks their coach. For without football, we are nothing.In all fairness, the documentary did include representatives from the non-reverent point of view. But it's witnessing the reactions of people who have so much invested in a sport that has achieved cult status, as well as the mechanics of group think, that make this an interesting doc. A good study in the sort of self-righteous mentality that starts wars. But who am I judge? I'm a west coast liberal. I'd rather do almost anything else than watch football.

I liked this documentary very much. Watching people involved in the unchecked crimes of Jerry Sandusky give their side of the story was much more revealing than reading quotes. Matt Sandusky, Jerry's adopted son, impressed me as thoughtful and sincere. He did his best to be fair to Sandusky, saying that ninety percent of the time he spent with the man was everything a kid would want--association with fame, access to football games, etc.--but the other ten percent "would destroy you." I was shocked when Matt, at the end of the film, said that not one single person from the Sandusky family contacted him after he went public about how Jerry molested him. What kind of people are Dottie and her relatives? If they didn't believe him, you would think someone might want to talk with him and ask him to take back his "lies." But no. That didn't happen.The one thing missing from "Happy Valley" was any mention of the well-known fact that Paterno decided that some of his players who broke into a residence and beat people should not be put into the legal system. Paterno clearly believed that he and his players were above the law. He decided the law-breaking players would clean up the stadium after some games. It's also known that then-President Spanier and other higher-ups in the Athletics Dept. all agreed that Paterno was in charge of things like this. This piece of history is a big deal. It should have been in the documentary.The behavior of some of the residents of Happy Valley was detestable. There's an extended scene in which these idiots don't hesitate to grab a sign from an older man making his negative view of Paterno known at the statue of the coach. A woman who wants a selfie with the statue pushes the man aside with her body. Others get in his face with red-neck-type logic. It's scary to see how conformist the community could be---all worshiping a football program. This film had to be made, and it was made well.

"St. Joe": What Penn State, College Station, and the world called Joe Paterno before the Jerry Sandusky indictment.No one ever called my town, Columbus, "Happy Valley," but when Ohio State defeats Michigan, it's a happy valley indeed. That euphoria over a football program as successful as Penn State under head coach Joe Paterno with its spell cast so widely is the engine that drives a community to miss the signs of crime such as assistant coach Jerry Sandusky's abuse of young boys.Amir Bar-Lev's documentary, Happy Valley, covers the historical bases of Sandusky's conviction on multiple counts and Paterno's eventual firing (and death a few months later) for not doing more to bring justice for the abused boys. Even Sandusky's adopted son, Matt, who is the most talking head in the doc, waits until boys have testified against Sandusky to confess he lied—he was abused.That confession is at the heart of this slowly competent documentary, for it encapsulates the ambivalence of a community so mesmerized by football and its cast of characters that it takes a while to acknowledge some of the actors have feet of clay. Sandusky is easy—he was seen in the showers with boys—but Paterno, the beatified coach (the statue on campus is now gone, as if he were Hussein or Stalin), challenges their understanding of a morality that extends beyond just legally telling a superior about an incident, as Paterno did.Bar-Lev's is as even-handed as could be: the media is held up to harsh light with its aggressive, predatory pursuit of the sensational; the NCAA is never fair enough; and the University, from president on down, can't get it just right.And so it goes—this well done doc, despite the sometimes vacant talking heads, shows few participants not caught up in the hoopla. It sure makes me think Ohio State's Jim Tressel dust up was just a skirmish in an enduring battle for the hearts and souls of students and the communities where they live.

The film does not consider the sources of info. A major player in the film is Matt Sandusky. He is portrayed as almost a hero in the film, without mention of his multiple convictions for assaulting his wife, her protection from abuse orders, his mentions of lying to police for years, as well as none of his brothers and sisters, who shared his room in Sandusky's house. The narrative of the film was decided before it was filmed, and that's not what a documentary should be. The Penn State fan was literally a fanatic, and didn't seem to represent the student population well. This is more of a conceived story than a factual documentary.