«I begin to wonder why I went into journalism,» says Robert Fisk at the start of This Is Not A Movie , as he runs to the safety of his car after grenade blast near the Iran-Iraq border in 1980. The comment is a wry aside but especially apt, as this portrait of Fisk’s career from shapes up to be a thought-provoking meditation on the uses and limitations of war reporting, as much as it is a glowing tribute to the high-profile British investigative journalist and columnist himself. There is much footage as jolting as the opening, but rather than getting swamped by the sheer immensity of what Fisk has experienced over a decades-long career primarily covering the Middle East, the film adeptly draws out thematic threads about the meaning, or rather futility, of war, and our urge to tell its stories. Conversations with him in the comfort of his Beirut apartment are just as insightful on the nature of his work as what we see on the frontlines; after all, despite Fisk’s obvious bravery, he is not one for shallow bravado.
Contrary to the official line
Notepad in hand, roaming away from his fixer into alleyways, and chatting to locals, Fisk is the quintessential image of the old-school, on-the-ground reporter. If you don’t go to a scene and witness it with your own eyes, «sniff it». Now that so little journalism is fact-checked on the internet, this type is more important than ever — and less respected by profit-preoccupied . . .
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