Review: Alex Gibney's Frank Sinatra documentary delivers it all

With his documentary on Scientology barely out of cinemas and still lingering in many minds, filmmaker Alex Gibney delivers a beautiful follow-up, a four-hour examination of the life of Frank Sinatra, which proves to be as mesmerising as it is flavourful.

Sinatra: All or Nothing at All (Sunday, SBS, 8.45pm) errs on the side of the former - all - and delivers it with a bowl of ice-cream on the side. And unlike a traditional documentary, which blends talking heads and archival footage, this is all Sinatra, with interviews underlaid as audio. It's a departure, but a nice one.

Frank Sinatra (left) and John F. Kennedy.

In that sense, it echoes another recent documentary, Amy, about Amy Winehouse. That film leant heavily on handheld video footage, and brilliantly shrank its interviewees to audio contributors. Sinatra lived in another age, where film was the preferred method of capturing intimate moments. The vision here is rich and nicely textured.

Sinatra is a compelling figure and Gibney manages to capture him nicely. Though the program was made with the co-operation of Sinatra's family, there doesn't seem to be too much conceded ground as a trade-off for access to the very best footage of Sinatra at his best.

The subjects are varied, from Sinatra's children, Nancy and Frank jnr, to a range of figures connected to him, thanks to the inclusion of archival interviews, from Walter Cronkite and Lauren Bacall. The observations are candid and intimate. You get a genuine sense of discovery about the man.

The program also moves out of the music world and explores Sinatra's connections in Washington, and his friendship with John F. Kennedy. There is a lot of sentiment here, and that's difficult to avoid given the complexity and iconic endurance of its subject. But it's beautifully crafted.

Of course, when given the same challenge - that is, all, or nothing at all - not all television programs are created equal. Some opt for the latter, and what you are left with is a line-up of people whose names you barely grasp and a show that answers to the name of The Bachelorette (Ten, Wednesday, 7.30pm).

The thing is, you're not actually supposed to know their names. Biff. Ted. Chad. Brad. It doesn't really matter. They are, essentially, a parade of nobodies, wheeled in to occupy the space left by Narelle, Chanel, Ellie-Sue and Glenys from The Bachelor, who all left, tear-stained, and clutching their roses.

Ten has somehow turned this franchise into a franchise, which is rather miraculous given that in the US it's older than most things on TV. (And American television has Barbara Walters.) But it's popular, which means it matters. At least to those who watch it. To the rest of us, it's a soap opera, within a reality show, within a commercial break.
The premise is this: some poor hapless poppet named Sam Frost is searching for love. And she's come to television to find it. Madness, you think? Well this is her second go around. She's the poor thing who was binned by Blake Garvey from The Bachelor. Remember? No? Thought not.

Well, anyway, having been chewed up by the reality TV machine, she's back for seconds, which tells us two very important things: first, she's a brave, brave, brave, brave girl, and second, if she ever complains that she's a victim of cruel and indifferent TV fame, she basically doesn't have a leg to stand on.