"Truth" In Documentary Filmmaking

Upon opening this morning’s Sunday Arts section of the Boston Globe I found a brief article by the documentary filmmaker Errol Morris discussing how documentary film was at its core largely about distinguishing between what is “true” and what is “false” and of course inviting us to ask and figure out this question for ourselves. The seriousness of this task is plain, both in regards to truth in documentary filmmaking and just generally “truth in life”; “truth” – whatever that may be – inhabits a realm of questioning which demands our attention every day of our lives if we are to live informed and engaged with others. With respect to film, it is often assumed and expected that there is a close relationship between truth and documentary film, and that one necessarily leads to the other, or that the existence of one is somehow proof of the existence of the other. The problems with such an interpretation are varied and complex but equally important to the wider discourse.

It seems unwise to expect the truth from any documentary film regardless of who created it and the methods used, though this does not necessarily mean that the documentary is not partially or wholly true (if being 100% true was even possible). Far too often the rhetoric used to distinguish “narrative or fiction film” and “documentary film” is grounded in this binary of “fact” and “fiction” which in their most filtered and watered down forms do more harm than good.  When someone says that a documentary is true, what are they referring to exactly? And as Morris points out, the boundaries between the two are often quite blurry.

For example, the two camps of fiction filmmaking and non-fiction (documentary) filmmaking share the similarity of being highly manipulative. There is no subtle way to convey this point, and no way around this point. For example, editing is the process during which individual shots are composed together to essentially create a cohesive sense of meaning and narrative – and this process is rooted in manipulation. This is why two completely un-related images can be composed together to create a new, third image, which suddenly means something greater than the first two shots taken individually. There is meaning via association. Now consider a feature length documentary film, and consider thousands of previously independent moments and elements strung together to create a new whole which is labeled “documentary” and assumed to be “true”. Consider that every single element of picture and sound have been taken into consideration and evaluated for how they work in relation to one another. Are they effective in conveying the filmmaker’s intention?

An influential yet often unseen relationship exists between the filmmaker, the film, and the audience in that each to a certain degree must be held responsible for the role they are playing in this dynamic. For example, my intentions guiding the decisions made in constructing a story are manifested in the particular characteristics of the finished work. The audience inevitably brings their own set of expectations and intentions behind watching such work, which either clash or harmonize in some fashion with the film, and thus with myself. By engaging with my film, the audience is entering into a dialogue with me, the filmmaker. And of course this is an infinitely complex relationship.

As an audience member I usually do not want to contemplate the multitude of ways in which I am being manipulated and directed at any given moment of the film I am watching. To be reminded of this reality too easily shatters the illusion that I have immersed myself in, and suddenly this intimate relationship between the filmmaker, the film, and myself, is threatened; the dialogue is broken momentarily. Furthermore, whether you are aware of the ways in which you are being manipulated or not – you are being manipulated regardless. Such a truth is at least cause for a moment of reflection is it not?

So there is a self-consciousness of sorts that hangs over the dynamic of filmmaker, film, and audience; in most cases we prefer to be naïve witnesses so as to save us from ourselves. But then does this not prove problematic when in our naiveté we sacrifice an informed, skeptical eye for the momentary bliss of ignorance or even worse – expectations rooted in fallacy? 

To expect that what one is watching is true is to essentially enter into the role of the witness with blinders on; more seriously so if such an expectation is merely a symptom of the belief that the term documentary is somehow naturally synonymous with the term truth (which seems to be largely a cultural phenomenon?). In thinking that the two are synonymous, one ignores the fact that both terms represent vastly complex and distinct fields of practice and knowledge.  There are very real consequences, though not always apparent, in over-looking such complexities. For this reason, it may be wiser to expect the un-expected if you wish to expect anything at all – that is, to remain open and skeptical.

At the same time both the filmmaker and the audience has the freedom to choose what “truth” means to them. Such a definition for the filmmaker may be the basis upon which an ethical framework is built, or may dictate the practical parameters of filming a subject. And for the audience such a definition of truth could have any number of ramifications from affecting the lens through which each scene is interpreted to simply resulting in a “like” or “dislike” of the film. Some viewers might for instance feel that a heavy reliance on re-enactments in documentary filmmaking is too constructed and believe that nothing more than a vérité, “fly on the wall” camera can capture truth. Some filmmakers may choose to not record interviews with subjects because these set-ups may feel in-authentic. When it comes to methods of capturing truth the debate will forever rage on.

While a skeptical stance has no real bearing on the ultimate truthfulness of whatever film one is watching, such a stance is important because most often we overlook just how invasive and persuasive our own positions as witnesses are, and no, I am not suggesting that we must try and adopt a false sense of objectivity. Rather, it can be these moments of skepticism which offer a bit of respite from the relentless currents of more habitual and sometimes authoritarian ways of thinking; sometimes one of these moments is all that is needed to catalyze a question where before there was none, or to ask a better question, or to see a little more clearly of oneself.

Regardless of one’s definition and preference of the so called truth, being a more careful witness allows for richer more layered interpretation and a more fulfilling moment by moment dialogue with the subject material and filmmaker and this stands true regardless of how truthful this work may actually be. When all is said and done the effectiveness of a film is not necessarily contingent upon the truth, though it certainly could be. And if documentary films are made with the intent not only to inspire feeling and question truth, but to expand and enrich the discourses in which they inhabit, then it is the collective responsibility of this community of storytellers and witnesses to stop for even a moment and take note of the nature of their engagement, and reconsider, if need be, all of that which is so often glossed over or taken for granted to be true.

 

 

 

 

Learning By Doing

Throughout the production of this film I tried when I could to write reflections of my experience. Here is a little that was written in June of 2011, right after the first intensive shooting session with Kenneth at his home in Woodstock, NY. What's most interesting of course is looking back on these words and making note of what was truly seen and not seen at that time. At any given moment we see only what our vision allows - it is often later that we realize just how blind in certain areas we truly were. Nevertheless, aside from their romanticism, these words are a testament to my focus and determination when it came to making an honest film with heart.

June 27, 2011

"How can I explain it with words? When people ask me how shooting went, what do I say? Is there even a way of expressing all of what happened with mere words? I’ll try.

Simply, it was another example of learning by doing, which I have fully encouraged for a number of years now as the most intense, fulfilling, and eye-opening form of learning. Even though Krishnamurti would say that learning is not experiential, as that would be the gathering of knowledge, but occurs only when we are fully present, I would argue for a hybrid version; when I say learning by doing, it is in the “doing” that I am expecting one to be as present as they possibly can be. One can do something without being present. I can press record on the camera but my mind can simultaneously be a year down the road worrying wether or not the shot will work or not. 
 

So my experience was to the fullest extent an example of learning by doing. But it was also an extreme example because I was living with my subject. It was the most emotionally and mentally intense learning experience I’ve ever had, because all who were involved tried to offer 100% of their being in ever moment we shared together. 
 

Ken is a friend, part of the family, a business associate, and also just another subject in one of my films. On the last day right before I left, Ken confessed that never in his 70 years of living and working had he ever experienced a working relationship like the one we had created over the span of two weeks. This is profound. This acknowledgment proves that by being compassionate, truthful, and loving with one another in the arena of making art, not only can great art happen, but people can change and change dramatically for the better. 
 

So in this extreme form of learning by doing, as in the doing was being done by people with honest and loving intentions, the experience not only teaches but it becomes transcendent. This means that although all of the players involved are working towards making a film, the experience becomes far greater than making a film. In fact, the film may even become an afterthought when compared to the tremendously powerful nature of the experience. There is no doubt that the experience influences the work in every way, meaning the positive and what we may see as negative moments all work together to create the art. But when lives are changed, though the art is a part of it, it becomes peripheral and instead a record of what happens when individuals embark on such an immersive experience together. When an experience is truly transcendental, it can have the power to alter human conditioning, to begin the rewiring of old and faulty programing. In this sense, the experience is truly healing and can be unlike any other.
 

Have I conveyed the experience in words yet? I don’t think I have expressed the full extent of what the above experience means. The experience I had shooting for two weeks in Woodstock is in the specific sense an experience unique to those two weeks, to those involved, to the space where the work was carried out, and in this sense, the experience is impossible to replicate. But in the general sense of the experience, I do not believe it is only achievable by some, rather reachable by all, as long as those involved understand the fullest extent of the commitments needed. 
 

This makes me think of all those around the world at any given moment who are engaging in a collaborative experience with others. The experience is not limited to art, but open to anything and everything we humans can think up. This is precisely because the nature of the experience is not determined by the end goal, but instead by those individuals involved and their intentions. 
 

I am not speaking of an unreachable or even unrealistic way of being. I am simply speaking of what can be achieved when everyone involved understands a few basic principals: That they are not and never the center of the experience, rather a necessary part of the whole. That fear is useless, and only when trust is mutual will the real work have the freedom to blossom. That letting the ego take control can be potentially deadly to the individual and the group as a whole, for as we know, one rotten egg can easily and quickly ruin the group. I am not saying the ego should be crushed, but it should be observed cautiously and respectively. The ego is usually a large part of an individual’s drive for success, and success is not a bad thing. But when this becomes a priority, or rather an expectation, it will blind those from doing the real work. And lastly that the work, which is a product of the whole, needs its freedom, and thus no great expectations should be placed on it either.
 

I understand that it is impossible for me to witness all of the millions of collaborations that are going on at any given moment in time. And I understand that many collaborations are already succeeding because all those involved already understand some or all of what I am writing here. 
 

But I am also aware of many collaborations, many experiences, many meetings of the minds that do not succeed, or even if they do, they do not reach their fullest potential. This means that those involved might not get as much out of the experience as they could: They don’t learn as much as they could, or they realize the experience has passed them by without giving them much notice. It is for these experiences and these individuals that I write this now, because I know that a fuller and more loving experience is just around the corner even if no one knows it exists. 
 

I worry that I’ve gotten a little too abstract with the writing here. But I fear that just saying, “Be loving,” doesn’t quite explain it all either. What is most important to understand is that this experience I speak of is attainable by all, you just need to open up your heart, surrender yourself, give all of yourself over to the other(s), be honest with yourself and those you are working with, and expect nothing. 
 

You can guarantee a few things: Shit will happen, your plan will fall through in some way or another, wonderful things will happen that you could have never planned for, and you might feel at one point or another like all is lost. But the good work can only be achieved with a little or a great deal of hardship. Nothing great is ever achieved easily, and I suppose it is up to you to arrive at what your definition of “great” is. 
 

You must lose yourself to find yourself. Throw away what you knew to be true and you just might discover a little glimmer of absolute, transcendent, beautiful truth."

Nearly Locked

I am excited to announce that a locked cut of On Guardian Mountain is within reach. Ken's story will have a running time of approximately 68 minutes comprised of 70 + hours of footage shot between 2011-2015. It is strange to think of how many different types of spaces the editing of this film has occupied over the last three years from writing transcriptions late at night in the Ithaca College library and assembling early threads in my studio apartment looking out over Cayuga Lake, to Marlena's house where numerous binge-editing sessions led to the first and second cuts, and finally to my own basement and never ending occupation of the dining room table (thank you Mom for putting up with that mess!).

That one story could slowly be constructed over such a length of time and in the context of such a variety of life circumstances is reason enough to pause - the multiplicity of life seemed to perpetually prevent the necessary focus and hinder the completion of the film, while at the same time it provided a richness and distance from the piece which I do think was ultimately of much benefit to the film.

Just as we are expressions of all that has come before us, and all that we've experienced, the finished cut will be a reflection of all these many moments throughout time. Moments where I drifted very far away from Guardian Mountain and Ken, and moments where I was so invested in the footage and the story that I felt as if I was drowning within in it, and blinded by it. 

One thing is certain: editing this film has been one of the greatest learning experiences of my life. For the first time I feel as if I have a decent sense of what it means to construct a story and shoot with an edit in mind. And at the end of the day it has been a total pleasure getting to put this jigsaw puzzle together. 

More updates to come soon!

 

Scoring Underway

Scoring has begun! I am very excited to introduce Angus MacRae who will be crafting the music for On Guardian Mountain.

Angus MacRae is a London based composer and musician. He originally trained as a pianist and went on to graduate with a degree in music from Nottingham University. He has since collaborated with award-winning filmmakers, choreographers, theatre directors, animators and photographers from across Europe and beyond. 

You can check out his work here.


The First!

This is hopefully the first of many posts. I will do my best at updating folks as we near the end of post-production with On Guardian Mountain and head into the next phase of the vast unknown. Perhaps this too can be an outlet for my own processing when it comes to making sense of the last five years. There are many things I wish to say, and many feelings I'd like to articulate regarding the making of this film and at the moment I have few words. So with time, and space, I plan to elaborate.

We do have a live Official Facebook Page as well as an Official Twitter Page. 

Till next time,

Cory Tomascoff