The Role of Documentaries: This is Not About Michael Moore

I've been privileged to watch some excellent documentaries lately: Kassim the Dream at American Film Institute's Silver Theatre in Silver Spring; Taxi to the Dark Side and Bishar Blues at Busboys and Poets near U Street. The stories presented in these three were all moving enough to enlarge my personal view of the world. A brief description of each:

• Kassim the Dream is the story of a Ugandan immigrant to America who struggles with his boxing career at the same time that he tries to come to terms with his past as a child soldier in the army and the friends, family, and displaced persons left behind.
• Taxi to the Dark Side delves into the horrific practices by the US Army (and the policies that enabled them) in American prisons abroad and at Guantanamo, centering around the story of a taxi driver whose fate is to suffer and die from fatal blows to the legs - all in the name of collecting foreign intelligence.
• Bishar Blues tells the story of the fakirs in Bengal, India, who struggle to transcend religious classification and caste limits in a society that ostracizes them for their earnest practice. Their beliefs celebrate the holiness within people and are a modern manifestation of the human lifestyle of Mohammed (and Jesus, for that matter) before institutional structure began to dominated these ideologies.
  

Though vastly different in subject matter, the obvious common thread is a portrayal of people who have been marginalized, intended to be digested and enjoyed by a broader audience. Is shining the public, artistic light on the small stories then the purpose of most or all documentaries? To explore this idea a bit, I turn to a Chilean documentalist I briefly researched for a Spanish class report on art during Pinochet's reign of terror.

Patricio Guzman is a famed documentalist born in Chile in the 1940s who was left his country when Augusto Pinochet, supported by the United States, took power from Salvador Allende in a coup that ushered in an era of murder and missing persons, quieted journalists, and stolen livelihoods. His first film, La Batalla de Chile (The Battle of Chile) documented the coup and was nominated by CINEASTE, an American magazine on the art and politics of the cinema, as one of the top 10 political films in the world.

Guzman has a lot to say about the importance of the making of documentaries. In Spanish and then in English, two quotes from his website:

"No todos los documentalistas somos cazadores de eventos, sino que también somos poetas, que tratamos de encontrar en el tiempo y espacio reales las huellas de la gente, aún las más ínfimas," y "Un país sin cine documental es como una familia sin album de fotografias."

"Not all makers of documentaries are hunters of current events, rather we are also poets that try to find in contemporary time and space the paths of the people, even the smallest," and "A country without documentary film is like a family without a photo album."

For Chile, his films serve to remember the awful events of the reign of terror that forever changed their lives and their relationship to their home. They are a remembrance that begins to do justice to the desaparecidos, who went missing from their families never to be heard from again (and who probably faced fates as dark as torture and mass, unmarked graves). Here, the documentaries are more than an educational film about people without the glamour to make it into a media dominated by celebrities and economics. You and I are united through these films with a marginalized people through knowledge of their struggle. To return to Kassim, the dramatization of dark events brings emotional release, and enables us to live more humanely like the fakirs of Bengal in Bishar Blues.

Update (19/7/08): A new website is making documentaries available for free viewing online. Kudos to them for using the internets for its most edifying purpose: worldwide distribution!