Reflecting Our Past at 2022 Hot Docs
Visual storytelling is a predominant form of artistic expression to provide audiences a glimpse into everyday lives. Unlike music and literature, photography and film are modes where audiences observe how the medium’s stories can be similar to their own through the sense of sight. In non-fiction filmmaking, documentaries serve as a bridge between maker and viewer in discovering how we reflect on our precious, life-changing moments. Whether it is a day in the life of slice, a verite doc that follows months or even years in the making, or a conventional talking-head doc, the various forms of the medium create a space for the documentary participants to look back at life.
Still from Only the Wind. Courtesy of Zofia Kowalewska
An array of minimalistic and formalistic presentations of sharing different lives was displayed at Hot Docs 2022, the festival’s first in-person edition since 2019. In its present timeline, Only the Wind is a fly on the wall film that follows 92-year-old Zdzisław, exiled by the Soviets in World War II, returns and reunites with the people and spaces that have a profound effect on him in a remote village in Kazakhstan. In addition, Zdzisław brings his granddaughter, director Zofia Kowalewska, along with, allowing her to be in his shoes at the places that shape him. In her second film with her grandfather after her IDFA '16 short doc Close Ties (about Zdzisław and his spouse's 45th anniversary), Zofia inserts a structure that enhances the present moment's strength. She films her grandfather in a delicately strolled manner to imply his aging when his contemporary surroundings are mobile. It is easy to recognize how Kazakhstan has changed in 70 years from the slight decay of the wall's colors at Zdzisław friend Jakow's home and a newly developed monitor of arrivals at a train station.
"It's starting to look like it. But there's still shrubbery here. There was not a single bush where we lived," said Zdzisław when looking at the landscapes on the train with Zofia. While the physical spaces have changed due to technological advancements and climate, the memories, events, and personalities have not. In this family collaboration, Zdzisław and Zofia contribute an accord of history on screen through subtle long recalling moments that happen by nature. They do not use buzz words that are central to the themes of reclamation and discovery. Instead, they let the people they introduce on-screen immerse the audience into an emotional, melancholy expedition. Zdzisław gazes into the landscapes at what used to exist, such as a church and a cemetery. His reactions to the places' absences elaborate on the things that he and his past family and friends cherish. As Zdzisław looks back at a pre-urbanized Kazakhstan, he moves forward into seeing the optimistic chances of the places and people that Zdzisław and the bright future that he made for Zofia. While the filmmaker is an on-screen character in this family tale, director Oeke Hoogendijk is not a primarily on-screen character when she centers her Holocaust surviving mother Lous in Housewitz.
Still from Housewitz. Courtesy of Oeke Hoogendijk
In Housewitz, Lous is afraid of the outside world due to her agoraphobia that was caused by her traumatic experiences during the Holocaust. As a result, she has not stepped out of her home for decades. Her primary method of staying up to date with the current world is her television sets and cat. In displaying the literal interior life of Lous, she glances at the frame(s) as they are her only form of a social relationship that she has outside of her kids. Besides the television screen, most of the film’s footage is through stationary webcams that Oeke installs as part of Lous’s request in Oeke’s compromise of showing Lous’s authentic self. Within this setup, the static shots evince the unknown dread. It engulfs her apprehensive turpitude about reliving a life at home. The film’s first TV shot is imprinted by including the shelves and books surrounding the frame. In the frame, the audience sees a train’s point of view of riding on the tracks. As the train embarks in its path, Oeke pushes the camera on the screen simultaneously. As a result, it exhibits a multi-dimensional enthrallment of despairful yet ebullient trepidation as Lous explains her journey that led to her circumstances.
When the camera reaches its planned destination, the train continues to operate; the image becomes slightly overexposed and pixelated. Though the picture may not be in its best quality, the details happening on screen make it poignant and tragically nostalgic for Lous. It reminds me of Shoah from its harrowing accounts and entails the harmful mundane life of Holocaust survivors. The shots present on the television insert the viewer into Lous’s sight and angst in seeing her surroundings. The film’s exterior house shots ingrain an evocative, ghoulish intruder that manifests Lous’ inner demons. Oeke’s snapshot of her mother’s disquietude and the bittersweet journey is heightened by a blend of her ever-lasting pain and playful-to-the-camera attitude when she recalls her peak informative memories. As Oeke can’t teach an old dog new tricks, Lous will remain the lovable, witty self that embodies an apprehensive rose yet courageous gem. She accepts the loneliness of being agoraphobic. She connects her past to the contemporary by illuminating her house’s mess with her glimmering flaws.
Still from For Your Peace of Mind, Make Your Own Museum. Courtesy of Pilar Moreno and Ana Endrara
In a symbolic approach, Pilar Moreno and Ana Endrara’s For Your Peace of Mind, Make Your Own Museum presents a moving albeit unconventional story of the ongoing spirit of Senobia Cerrud and the transformation of her house into The Museum of Antiquities of All Species. By using five women (Marta, Ofilda, Delfina, Dominga, and Librada, and not on screen together) wearing the same blue dress filled with floral designs, they corroborate the meanings of Senobia’s legacy and say that the dress reminds them of Senobia. As they search for it, Pilar and Ana present the artifacts that are preserved in the museum. Each artifact has its own sound design that draws the viewer into their world. For example, ringing is present in the shot of a bell, and a ringtone is heard in the shot of a phone. While the film has a collective demeanor in preserving Senobia’s history, the film serves as a memoir for the space. From the rust on the mug, the dust on a 1935 phone, and the desaturation of a treasure chest-type case, audiences see how objects age without their possessor. Those decaying traits are notable signs of the objects’ lack of care, aging, and enduring nature of being hidden from the disposers.
Despite the abstract efforts executed successfully in both storylines, the two threads are ill-advisedly placed overall. Due to the slightly abrupt jumps from the main storyline of the women conserving Senobia's journey to the artifacts' subplot, Pilar and Ana unintentionally create incohesive holes. Though the directors try to connect the storylines through voice overs from the interviews, they, unfortunately, miss the opportunity of having the women together when they interact with the artifacts. The film's philosophy of having a lot of singularities (individual shots of the objects that play like a slideshow) hinders the ghostly presence in the house/museum. Some of the character transitions lead to unintentional restarts in the story and exhaust the mystical, spiritual aesthetic as promised in the film. Eventually, the film discovers the end of times through closeups of the participants' wrinkling skin and their works on the objects. This unexpected binding of the two threads compliments each other for bringing back to the opening scene. This final act also shows the vulnerability and stakes for the participants that were not as highly established in its earlier portions. As a result, the film absorbs a hidden, uneven meaning of one's relationship with space.
Still from 2nd Chance. Courtesy of Showtime Documentary Films
On the formalistic side, 2nd Chance features accounts of various relationships to describe body armor company Second Chance founder Richard Davis. After including non-professional actors in his Neorealist-style films Man Push Cart and Chop Shop, Oscar-nominated filmmaker Ramin Bahrani finds the meaning of Davis's virtue after an officer died while wearing Davis's vest in his feature documentary debut. Though Davis intends to save lives through his invention, the outcomes of the controversial events will impact how people perceive Davis. Past films on the subject matter, such as Us Kids and The Price of Freedom, often have a diplomatic, strict tone in examining the sociological effects of gun culture in the United States. In 2nd Chance, Bahrani presents an equally such doc while bringing in a one-two absurdist humourous punch to Davis's inner workings of Second Chance as a celebrity to the police and gun industry, entrepreneur, and filmmaker. In addition, his films, such as Second Chance vs. U.A.P., have a subtle farce in their dialogue and blocking that makes the political entertainment and audiences complicity question why Davis would shoot himself 192 times.
2nd Chance entails Richard in both the past and the present (unlike Only the Wind, Housewitz, and From Your Peace of Mind, Make Your Own Museum) as audiences see footage from Davis's past to the present that is sewn together through Bahrani's unreliable narration. That voiceover manipulates audiences in deciding if they should empathize and agree with Davis that his bulletproof vest is a possible solution on protection. While the family members and business partners will have their own beliefs about Richard, the outside masses will perceive Richard from his works and the attention he garners from the press. Notably, one film he made follows a real-life inspired event of participants Clifford Washington almost killing Aaron Westrick. However, the film's version of Washington (who's Black in real life) is White, while Westrick's White racial trait is intact in the movie. The casting choice obscures the history behind its inspiration and implies Davis's beliefs and values. It makes us question the impact on the films' messaging and how history is reflected when film, as a mass communications and historically colonized tool, is used as a central reference point.
Even though 2nd Chance sends unflinching, gripping waves into human psychology, the movie is unfocused within its many sectors behind Second Chance. It is organized through 8 chapters to get across the many backstories of the enterprise. At times, the intertitles interrupt the flow of the journey when it has to bring up a storyline that goes in another direction after its previous remark. Yet, despite its sloppy editing, 2nd Chance induces a robust human connection and the meaning of fate when we reconcile. The reunions evoke people's mistakes and forgiveness. Those reflections unveil the people and the humanity behind their actions. Only the Wind, Housewitz, For Your Peace of Mind, Make Your Own Museum, and 2nd Chance interrogates one's life in this realm of exploring the human condition. Yet, no matter the approach and how close the filmmaker is to their participants, documentaries serve a purpose in searching the places that make who we are and introspecting those accounts, either through one's self or from many people that can affirm the events or stances.