BLOODY SUNDAY
by Chris Dashiell
It seems odd that immediacy - that lack of distance which
makes the experience of a film so much more "real" to an audience -
is often the very thing most lacking in a documentary. Fiction, with
its power of identification, its evocation of shades of experience -
feeling, thought, imagination, or dream - that resists capture by "objective"
reporting, attains immediacy far more readily. This, I think, is why
fiction and nonfiction (our clumsy term for the literature of fact,
betraying its dependence on fiction in its very name) are blended together
more and more by filmmakers and other artists, as well as journalists.
The problem is, although fiction has the advantage of this sense of
immediacy, it tends to lose its power to stimulate political and social
awareness or debate, insofar as conventional narrative forms confine
the audience within a personal framework that keeps political engagement
at arm's length.
In
Bloody Sunday, writer/director Paul Greengrass has solved
this problem in a simple, yet exciting and fruitful way. The film recreates
the events in Derry, Northern Ireland, on the weekend in January 1972
that culminated in tragedy: British soldiers opened fire on demonstrators,
killing thirteen and wounding fourteen others - effectively ending hopes
for peace in the region for over two decades. Instead of following the
usual method of turning real events into drama, Greengrass presents
everything in documentary style, with handheld camera and 16mm photography.
By using the documentary form, but going places and portraying people
in a way only fiction can, he keeps the best of both genres, making
the events seem vividly present.
The
story focuses on Protestant PM Ivan Cooper (James Nesbitt), the main
organizer of the nonviolent civil rights demonstration protesting Unionist
rule and the use of administrative detention without charges or trial
by the British government. The film switches back and forth between
his efforts on the day leading up to the demonstration, other participants
- especially one young man (Allan Gildea) who we sense will be one of
the casualities - and scenes with the British officers and soldiers
who are planning to use the occasion to arrest "hooligans" - the unemployed
youth who throw rocks at soldiers and are prime recruitment material
for the IRA.
Everyone
is caught on the run, without exposition or character background - as
if we were dropped into this tumultuous world like the proverbial fly
on the wall. This "you are there" feeling proves the best
choice of style for depicting a public tragedy. Blackouts between sequences
emphasize the film's experiential quality. Instead of a smooth narrative
surface, we are presented with a discontinuity that highlights the warring
assumptions and points of view. Nobody knows everything that's going
on, and through the fragmentary glimpses, like jagged shards, of action,
the audience sees two opposing forces lumber blindly towards a fateful
clash.
Nesbitt
is wonderful as the harried, brave, and earnest activist Cooper, who
finally becomes overwhelmed by events beyond his control. Greengrass
is also good at showing how the long hours of waiting behind barricades,
under conditions of great pressure and isolation, can play havoc with
a soldier's mind. The commanding officers (Nicholas Farrell and Tim
Pigott-Smith), with their rigid attitudes and responses, are the least
sympathetic figures in the film, but they aren't caricatures. When the
explosion happens, in a lengthy, gutwrenching paroxysm of horror, the
careful build-up of tension through "verité" style attains devastating
impact. One may almost forget that this is a re-creation, and not a
documentary. I felt as if I had actually gone through this terrible
ordeal. The misery and grief of the aftermath is given just the right
running time and emphasis as well.
Based
on eyewitness testimony, Bloody Sunday doesn't attempt the sort
of "fairness" that exculpates all sides from fault. It pulls no punches
in its depiction of the British forces’ actions as inexcusably criminal.
(The picture was of course attacked by the right wing in England.) Soldiers
shot unarmed civilians, and the government whitewashed the whole thing,
even decorating the commanding officers. The film gives voice to the
victims of an atrocity, and tells the story of an historial event that
needs to be remembered. But it succeeds on a wider level as well - attaining
intense immediacy while remaining grounded in a realistic depiction
of social and political forces, it breaks down the walls between documentary
and fiction in a way that allows audiences to access the power and pain
of history as it is happening.
To remain awake during the nightmare of political oppression
is to retain the power of change. Bloody Sunday - bracing, alert,
compassionate, unflinching - helps us remain awake. It is among the
most powerful and important films in recent memory.
©2002 Chris Dashiell
CineScene
