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.