ScreenFish

where faith and film are intertwined

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Collective – The Press, the State, and Trust

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“The way a state functions can crush people sometimes.”

In 2015 a fire broke out in Colectiv, a Bucharest nightclub. Twenty-seven people died because there was only one exit. The corruption that allowed that to happen enraged the populace and led to the fall of the Romanian government. But after four months, thirty-seven other victims died in hospitals because of infections. Collective, from German-Romanian director Alexander Nanau, takes us into the controversy, the investigation, the governmental response to these new deaths, and the reasons behind those deaths.

We learn that while Romanian officials were telling their people that their hospitals were as good as any in Europe, in reality, they were a disaster. The main problem, we discover, is that the disinfectants that were being sold to hospitals were extremely diluted, making them completely ineffective. The company that made the products provided bribes and kickback to administrators and officials. As the investigation is underway, the owner of the company dies under mysterious circumstances.

Nanau has brought us an observational documentary. There are no interviews or voice overs. Rather the camera allows us to be present for a variety of events. It takes us into the newsroom of Sports Gazette (Gazeta Sporturilor) where Cătălin Tolontan leads a group of investigative reporters. We meet a burn victim who models for art photographs. We go to press conferences with the Minister of Health as he tries to defend the corruption being discovered in hospitals and the government. When a new Minister of Health takes over, he allows Nanau access to his meetings as a way of being transparent.

It may seem a bit strange that the investigation seems to be led by a sports journal. Tolontan had experience with investigative stories dealing with the government, mostly with the Ministry of Sports. His expertise was an important part of why the story ended up in that newspaper, which is among the most read in Romania.

One of the key issues involved in the film in many ways is trust. Whom can we trust? The government spokespeople? The reports from labs who test the disinfectants (those labs are accredited by the government)? The doctors who run the hospitals? The press? The filmmaker?

When Vlad Voiculescu becomes the new Minister of Health halfway through the film, he shows a great amount of trust by allowing Nanau to bring his cameras into his offices. Voiculescu, as an outsider, wants to establish transparency so that the people can have a sense of trust. The idea is that trust will beget trust. Voiculescu seeks to bring reforms to the health care system, but he is challenged by some who want to undermine his efforts.

I should note that the film doesn’t end on a hopeful note. As the new election looms in Romania, Voiculescu is faced with the idea that the reforms he was beginning could vanish when the next government takes over. That election, in 2016, reflected the populism that was also taking place in other countries, including the US and the UK. It may make us wonder about where we place our trusts—as individuals, and as a society.

Collective is the winner of several awards from film festivals around the world. It is Romania’s official submission for Best International Film consideration.

Collective is available in theaters and on VOD.

Photos courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.

The Cave – Hope in a Dark Place

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“Is God really watching?”

Nominated for Best Documentary Feature, The Cave takes us into the darkest of world to show us the smallest light of hope. Director Feras Fayyad received a previous Oscar nomination for his film Last Men in Aleppo. Again we see the destruction that has been happening in Syria and the bravery of some who seek to save others in spite of the risk to their own lives.

Al Ghouta, Syria – Dr. Amani (center) and Dr Alaa (right) in the operating room. (National Geographic)

Between 2013 and 2018, Al Ghouta, Syria was besieged by government and Russian forces. Gas attacks, frequent bombings, lack of food and supplies, created a city of rubble and despair filled with 400,000 people who now have no way out. A small group of doctors, led by Dr. Amani Ballour and Dr. Salim Namour, seeks to tend to the seriously injured in an underground hospital known as The Cave. Dr. Amani serves as the manager of the hospital, as well as continuing her work as a pediatrician, caring for the many children who have been injured in the bombings, and are suffering malnutrition from the lack of food.

The film immerses us into this subterranean world as we follow Dr. Amani. There are times of chaos and pain. There are quiet times when she and another woman can take part in a bit of girl talk about makeup. There are small celebrations, as for Dr. Amani’s 30th birthday which is feted with popcorn that Dr. Salim imagines as pizza with extra cheese. But throughout we see the suffering of the populace that has been under attack for five years. We see the doctors as they face feelings of helplessness. We see the fear that these doctors live with even as they strive to save others.

Al Ghouta, Syria – Dr Amani covers her ears during nearby bombings. (National Geographic)

There is no commentary to accompany the film. It suffers a bit by not giving viewers any context for the conflict or the geopolitical issues that allows such savagery to take place. But even without such explanations we realize that we are watching people who are acting heroically in a dangerous situation. Fayyad sets them (as he did with the White Helmets in Last Men in Aleppo) as lights of hope in a world that seems hopeless.

By focusing on Dr. Amani, this film also has a bit of a feminist bent. It only comes up once in the film, but Syrian society frowns on women working, especially in authority. But in this film we see not only Dr. Amani, but other women (especially Dr. Alaa and nurse Samaher) doing important work and saving lives of many people.

Al Ghouta, Syria – Children recovering with oxygen after a chemical attack. (National Geographic)

The film opens and closes with brief, poetic voice overs by Dr. Amani. They speak of light and hope. One of the lines the struck me was “I wonder if there is any space for justice.” For me this may be the key question that gnaws at me watching this. The UN has declared the siege of Al Ghouta as a war crime against humanity. But will there ever be justice? The film never asks, but I don’t know how viewers cannot ask how the world allows this to go on. Even when the world knows that the government has broken international law by using chemical weapons against its own people, nothing has been done.

National Geographic, who is the distributor for the film, offers some ways to take action at their website for the film. (The film can be screened on the National Geographic app.) I especially recommend reading Dr. Amani’s own account that is linked to there, and to consider signing the petition calling for the world to acknowledge what is happening and act.

Al Ghouta, Syria – Dr Amani amongst rubble. (National Geographic)

Photos courtesy of National Geographic

The Heart of Nuba – A Christian Doctor Lives the Gospel

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What kind of man gives up a life of privilege and comfort to live in a war zone half a world away from his family because the people there need a doctor? The Heart of Nuba is the story of American doctor, Dr. Tom Catena, who works in Mother of Mary Hospital in Sudan, among the Nuba Mountains. It is the only hospital for hundreds of miles, and he is the only doctor. The tagline for the film is: “One doctor. One Hospital. One million patients.”

It is not just that this is a very remote region where typical medical care would be needed. This is a war zone. The president of Sudan, Omar al-Bashir (who has been indicted by the International Criminal Court for war crimes) bombs his own people, targeting innocent people and children. Many of those that Dr. Tom cares for are those severely wounded in such attacks. But he also must deal with leprosy, a small child with kidney cancer, the measles (because the government will not allow vaccines to be brought it), and so much else that grows out of lives of poverty.

Dr. Tom was an Ivy Leaguer who studied engineering, but after graduation chose medical school instead. He loved the idea of being a community doctor—one who comes and becomes a part of the community. He has done that in the extreme by choosing to follow his faith and serving in a Catholic hospital as a kind of missionary.

His faith is a key part of his understanding of what he is doing. We see his early morning trips to the church to pray the rosary. And he reflects upon Jesus telling a man who wanted eternal life to sell all he had and come and follow. Dr. Tom says he tries to live that as best he can. And his life in Sudan is certainly Spartan. While this is indeed an extreme lifestyle, it is challenging to think of how hard that teaching by Jesus was. After all, the questioner went away very sad because of his wealth (and by implication, his attachment to that wealth).

The film is roughly equal parts of inspiration based in the commitment and work that Dr. Tom is doing, and of documenting the atrocities that are taking place in this region. It is not unusual for a panic to begin at the sound of an airplane. The film even records a bombing near the hospital compound itself, immediately behind Dr. Tom’s quarters. This documenting of the war going on here is designed to show us the suffering that doesn’t make our news. It never really delves into why these evil acts fly so far below the media radar, but it calls on us to be more mindful of what is going on in the world.

Beauty and the Dogs – Persisting in a #MeToo World

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“And yet she persisted” is a political statement in the US. It speaks to women seeking a voice to speak to power. But a woman’s persistence takes on a much deeper importance in the Tunisian film Beauty and the Dogs.

University student Miriam (Miriam Al Ferjani) goes to a party where she meets Youssef (Ghanem Zrelli). They go off for a walk. Next, we see her running, with him behind her. In time we see he is trying to comfort her and help her. While they were walking, policemen drove up, took Miriam and raped her.  Moving between clinic, hospital, and police stations, Miriam and Youssef try to document what happened to file a complaint. The night turns into an ever-greater nightmare as Miriam must face bureaucratic hurdles and hostility from those who we think should be her protectors.

The first third of the movie reminded me a bit of the Romanian film The Death of Mr. Lasarescu.  Like the character in that film, Mariam wants help, but faces proper procedures that override simple compassion. First, she is told she can’t be treated because she has no identification (her purse was taken by the rapists), then that there is no one who can examine her, then when the proper doctor is found, she’s told she must first go to the police to report the rape (which, of course, she is afraid to do.)

Her encounters with the police take this into even darker territory. There she is met with disbelief, indifference, hostility, and eventually physical and emotional threats. The first reaction of the police to an accusation against other officers is to circle the wagons. But when the police involved in the rape find her at the station, it becomes even more dangerous for both Miriam and Youssef. The police do everything they can to prevent her from moving forward with this complaint. As the night wears on, Miriam faces exhaustion along with the trauma of rape. Yet, she is not willing to let the police put this aside. She is determined to demand justice for what she has been through.

This story, based on actual events, but with significant artistic license, is a reminder that victims of rape often face all the trials that Miriam faces here. We also know that this is a story that is not limited to far away places. We live in a #MeToo world. For many women justice has been delayed or denied for terrible things they have had to face. It is only now that women are banding together to persist, as Miriam does here, to demand that their voices be heard, their pain acknowledged, and justice be done.

Photos courtesy of Oscilloscope Laboratories