Devils on the Doorstep
by
Chris Dashiell
The tragedy of war is a familiar subject for art - a never-ending one,
it would seem. Sometimes, though, the sheer stupidity of war is a more
potent topic. That's the approach director Jiang Wen has taken in Devils
on the Doorstep, a savage satire that spares no one, least of
all the audience.
In a village in Japanese-occupied northern China in 1944, a peasant
named Ma Dasan (played with nervous intensity by the director himself)
is interrupted in his late night love-making by a knock on the door.
A gunman only identifying himself as "Me" deposits two sacks in Ma Dasan's
hut and tells him that he must take care of the contents until the gunman's
return three days later, on pain of death. In the sacks, bound and gagged,
are a Japanese prisoner of war and his Chinese translator.
While
the Japanese prisoner screams insults at his captors, and the translator
changes them into compliments, the villagers try to figure out what
to do. The three days pass, then three weeks, then three months, but
the mysterious person or persons who deposited the prisoners in the
village do not return. Should they take them to the Japanese authorities?
Kill them? Or keep waiting for the gunmen to return? Tensions rise between
the personalities in the village, with Ma Dasan at the center of controversy,
as the prisoners become more intractable, their presence more difficult
to conceal.
Shot
in black-and-white, which lends the film a stark quality, Devils
on the Doorstep keeps upping the narrative ante until it goes over
the top in violent, horrifying fashion. Jiang doesn't soften his depiction
of the chaotic, hysterical wartime mentality, when anything can happen,
and the worst thing probably will. His narrative method - staccato editing
rhythm, the camera constantly moving - is designed to set you on edge.
The hatred of those who are different from us is one of the film's targets,
but rather than show this willingness to hate as merely ridiculous,
Jiang makes a connection with the underlying fear that is an inevitable
product of war and occupation, and perpetuates itself in endless cycles
and reversals.
The
film was censured by the Chinese Film Bureau, and blocked from being
shown in China, even while it won second prize at Cannes. It's hard
to figure out what the government objected to - surely not for leniency
to the Japanese, who come off terribly in the film. Perhaps it's simply
because the movie has no heroes, and no easy answers.
The
Trials of Henry Kissinger is a documentary directed by Eugene
Jarecki for the BBC, with Alex Gibney adapting the book by Christopher
Hitchens that makes a credible case for trying Kissinger on various
charges, including crimes against humanity. The film takes somewhat
less of a polemical tone than the book, pretending to the kind of impartiality
that people seem to think is required from a documentary. But they couldn't
seem to find anyone to defend Kissinger without qualms except for Alexander
Haig, who makes a total ass of himself, providing the film's main comic
relief.
In
any case, the picture carefully covers three big topics - Southeast
Asia, East Timor, and Chile - and its methodical presentation of evidence,
coupled with very interesting excerpts from interviews with former Kissinger
associates as well as critics like Hitchens and Seymour Hersh, makes
a strong case against the former Secretary of State. The advantage of
a film like this is that, unlike a news show like Nightline, where charges
are hurled about without enough time to make them credible, here the
background detail and accretion of facts can paint a comprehensive picture
without having to resort to rhetoric.
You
may already have heard that Nixon and Kissinger deliberately sabotaged
the Paris peace talks in order to get elected in 1968. Here you are
shown the details of how and why they did it. The atrocities of East
Timor and Chile may have penetrated your consciousness, but here we
are shown Ford and Kissinger's meeting with Suharto, and we hear parts
of the transcript where Timor was discussed, one day before the invasion.
In the case of Chile, there is a fascinating exploration of Kissinger's
personal role in the murder of Rene Schneider, the Chilean army chief
of staff who opposed U.S. plans for a military coup.
At
the screening in Tucson, Hitchens showed up for a panel discussion after
the film. He comes across as quite charming and funny, unafraid to ruffle
anyone's feathers (many in the audience were surprised to find that
he supports war against Iraq), and more than a bit aggressive, which
I suppose comes with the territory. I suggest catching the film if you
can - it's not likely to be shown on public TV, I imagine.
©2003 Chris Dashiell
CineScene
