I’ve seen quite a few films lately that are reconstructions of historical events in the recent past, films that stand out for their vigilant practice of exercising every non-fiction filmmaker’s imperative: the freedom to be honest. What connotes “honesty” in documentary and how the blending of fiction (re-enactments) and reality (archival and live interviews) enhance one another to create singular storytelling of a particular event is of course a part of this discussion. In some instances, a filmmaker can, and does, take advantage of the ability to draft the individual who actually lived through those events to not only talk and reflect upon that experience, but to also re-live it for the camera, creating a profoundly moving and memorable (or re-remembered) experience.
There is a new facility in doing a reconstructed historical documentary that, to my mind, is revolutionary for the form. There are still a lot of very stodgy ways of presenting history and historical events: factual television is full of the generic stuthat will show us stilted recreations alongside archival photos and video, narrated by an unctuous “voice” reciting badly written narration.
The featured filmmakers presented here – Ian Olds, director of The Fixer: The Taking of Ajmal Naqshbandi, Greg Barker, director of Sergio, and Anders Østergaard, director of Burma VJ – choose to use various creative tools in their arsenal, not only to re-envision an authentic account of how things went down, but to also cratheir films in very cinematic ways, borrowing much from the narrative tradition. It is a very dynamic, engaging, and, most importantly, highly emotional type of storytelling, providing an intense participatory experience for a viewer. And isn’t that why we go to the movies?
While our corporate media outlets often let important particular (his)stories quickly vanish, these filmmakers and these films are determined to make us remain part of them.
Ian Olds’ latest film, The Fixer, is, in essence, a tribute to a young man – an Afghan journalist and “fixer” and interpreter for foreign journalists from the West – who lost his life by being at the wrong place at the wrong time. One could also say that Ajmal Naqshbandi was born, lived his life and worked in a country, Afghanistan, where a man of his intelligence and dedication could easily become fodder for a wide array of parties with various agendas. The Fixer maintains its primary commitment – to tell the truth – in a very distinctive way. As Olds stated in an interview with Robyn Hillman-Harrigan in The Huffington Post: “I felt that just to focus on loss does a profound disservice to the truth, and to Ajmal. A focus on this devastating loss is something that we as a western audience can relate to, but to focus on this man’s life in the context of what’s really going on in that country, is history empowered.”
The viewer knows from the first few seconds of the film that the main subject has died under some pretty brutal circumstances at the hands of Taliban captors. Olds continues: “. . . he died at a very specic moment, in a specic place.The aim of the film is to invoke this web of history and power in which he was caught, while never losing sight of the man.” Olds’ anti-chronological editing works to great effect. One of the reasons why he starts the film as he does is that he distinctly did not want to use Ajmal’s death as any sort of dramatic device. After knowing the outcome of the featured subject, the rest of the film tries to answer the question: Why? Rather than a strict linear narrative, the film tries to answer the question through ashes back and forth for the sole purpose of “unravelling meaning.”
The unending struggle of a people to make something out of what history has made of them
Olds talks about Afghanistan as a “buffer state,” a land divvied up between various power players, the British Empire, the Russian Empire, etc. He also sees Ajmal as a “buffer” individual, placing himself between the Italians, the Taliban, the Afghan government and the U.S, becoming an analogue for the place within which he resides. Olds told me that he comes from the narrative tradition and planned to make narrative features. But through his work with documentary filmmaker Garrett Scott, he discovered that the context of time and place should be uncompromising: A film “shouldn’t be just a drama unfolding or a certain circumstance or set of circumstances. It should be about an idea.” As Scott taught him, he chooses to parse these ideas with a “cold eye and a warm heart,” an innate sensibility of both the journalist and the artist.
Greg Barker’s Sergio puts the focus on the consummate UN-diplomat Sergio Vieira de Mello. In the last years of his life, de Mello was reluctantly persuaded by Ko Anaan (then Secretary General of the UN), Condoleezza Rice (then US Secretary of State under George W. Bush), and Tony Blair (then British Prime Minister), to take on the position as United Nations ambassador to a freshly invaded Iraq – a war to which de Mello was vehemently opposed. And then died in the midst of that invasion. On August 19th 2003, a deadly bomb struck the UN headquarters in Baghdad where de Mello was working. For the first time in history, the United Nations had become a target of terrorism, with de Mello, the superstar representative of all that the UN purportedly strove to achieve on the world stage, as a victim.
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