iraq

Battleground: 21 Days on the Empire's Edge

Battleground: 21 Days on the Empire’s Edge (Canada/USA, 2004, Director: Stephen Marshall, 84 minutes): Most of the doc­u­ment­aries pro­duced about the Iraq war (and also, for that matter, the Vietnam War) have really been about ourselves. Our motives, our politics, our guilt. What Stephen Marshall has done in Battleground is let us see the war from the per­spective of ordinary Iraqis. This is even more remark­able when it’s noted that Marshall, one of the founders of the Guerrilla News Network, admits that much of his pre­vious work was “agit­prop”, slanted and polem­ical. That this film, shot over three weeks in late 2003, is so bal­anced is thanks in part to a little bit of serendipity.

On the plane to Jordan, Marshall sits next to Farhan (or “Frank” as he now calls him­self), a beefy Iraqi-American on his way back to try to find the family he left behind after the first Iraq war. Heeding the encour­age­ment of the first President Bush after Iraq’s army had been pushed out of Kuwait, Farhan joined other Shia Muslims in rising up against the regime of Saddam Hussein. But when Saddam began air­strikes against the rebels, the Americans did nothing, and 100,000 Iraqis per­ished. Farhan was lucky. He was shot and tor­tured, but man­aged to get out of the country with the help of some American sol­diers. Fearful of reprisals against his family, he spent 13 years in America without making con­tact and now he’s returning, not knowing even if any of his family are left alive. This storyline alone would have made a com­pel­ling and heart­breaking film, but Marshall weaves Farhan’s story throughout the film, including sev­eral tear­fully joyous reunions.

There is also Raed Jarrar, an engineer (and incid­ent­ally, one of Iraq’s most famous blog­gers) mon­it­oring the pres­ence of depleted uranium in American shells used against Iraqi tar­gets. With his Geiger counter, he goes from place to place trying to warn people away from areas of con­tam­in­a­tion, but with little suc­cess. Poor Iraqis melt down the shells and tank wrecks to sell for scrap iron. Contaminated scrap iron.

Then there is the female trans­lator who longs for a return to the days of Saddam, arguing with the Egyptian busi­nessman who thinks the American defeat of Iraq will help it join other “losers” like Germany and Japan into devel­oping into an eco­nomic power­house. And the American tank com­mander who cyn­ic­ally pre­dicts that the war isn’t about demo­cracy or oil, but about geo­pol­it­ical stra­tegic interests, “over the next fifty to a hun­dred years.”

One thing stood about all the Iraqis in the film. Like any other cul­ture, and espe­cially one with thou­sands of years of his­tory, the Iraqis are a very proud people. The worst thing about the cur­rent occu­pa­tion is that it is humi­li­ating for the Iraqis. First they were humi­li­ated by Saddam, and now by the Americans. This is some­thing that the American army doesn’t seem to under­stand yet, how powerful this feeling is, espe­cially when it becomes a ral­lying point for the insur­gency. Even though there are lots of polit­ical, ethnic and reli­gious fac­tions in the country, they may yet unite around a shared sense of humi­li­ation, and then things could get even uglier.

All in all, this was a riv­eting journey into a war zone. And instead of focus­sing on the explo­sions, as our simple-minded media have been doing, the film feeds the hunger of viewers like me to see real Iraqis, living their lives under such incred­ible pres­sures. There are all kinds of opin­ions, from full sup­port of the Americans to out­right hos­tility, but people are eager to speak their minds. One of the film’s most moving moments came near the end, when a man said (in my rough para­phrase), “The Iraqis are not the enemies of America. America should stop cre­ating enemies for itself and instead create friends. You can never feel safe in the world if you don’t create friends instead of enemies.” I only hope this film helps even a little bit.

Watch the trailer for the film here.

10/10(10/10)

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Story of a Beautiful Country (South Africa/Canada, Director: Khalo Matabane) — This was a dis­ap­point­ment. Billed as a road movie through the new South Africa (and today marks ten years since the first demo­cratic mul­tiracial elec­tions in the country), it ended up stranding us inside a taxi watching the dir­ector con­verse with people either a little crazy (like the unre­formed mil­itant Afrikaner with his M-16) or a little drunk (like the end­less inter­view with an inter­ra­cial couple it looked like the dir­ector met at a nightclub). There was some real insight from a few, and a lot of point­less jabber from most. The truth is that South Africa is a beau­tiful country, and so a lot of striking images were cap­tured, even through the wind­screen, but as a doc­u­mentary, this failed to live up to my expect­a­tions. (6/10)

Army of One (Canada, Director: Sarah Goodman) — Canadian Sarah Goodman was living in New York around the time of 9/11, and noticed the long lineups at army recruiting centres after the tragedy. In this too-short film, she fol­lows three volun­teers for more than two years, through basic training and beyond. Of the three, only one is still in the army (and the dir­ector informed us at the screening that now-Sergeant Miller has returned home safely from Iraq). We follow the three as they try to find a pur­pose in their lives, one that the army prom­ises but fails to deliver. The film ends a bit abruptly. I would have loved to see even more. It brought back my own brief exper­i­ences in the Canadian mil­itary, and sharpened the deep ambi­val­ence I have about the way the army molds people to do a job nobody wants to talk about. There are a lot of good people in the mil­itary, and a lot of good things. But there are also many things that aren’t talked about in the recruiting centres, and this film uncovers and lays them bare. (9/10)

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