ScreenFish

where faith and film are intertwined

World War II

Recon – Moral Questions of War

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“I have had enough.”

How should we think of war? Is it a romantic, idealized story of heroics? Is it hell, as General Sherman said? Do we accept that “all’s fair” in war? Are there rules of morality that we must follow to maintain our humanity? Recon, written and directed by Rob Port, uses a real event in World War II to ask some of these questions. It is interesting that the film is being brought out for Veterans Day, a day we celebrate the military. While the film is not anti-military, is certainly has a perspective that war is a morally troublesome experience.

The film follows four soldiers as they climb an Italian mountain in search of German soldiers. They are being led by an Italian man who claims to be a partisan, but they are never sure of his real loyalties. The four are haunted, to varying degrees, by having seen their sergeant murder a civilian woman. As they make their way up the mountain with the dangers of landmines and snipers, they speak of life and death, of war and justice, of right and wrong.

They are a diverse group—liberal, racist, Jewish, Catholic, different educational levels, different backgrounds. Their perspectives on the murder range widely as well. At times, their differences threaten to bring them to violence. Only their taciturn leader, Corporal Marson, manages to keep them on focus and working together. The constant danger the squad faces as it seeks the enemy and then must find its way back home give the film a familiar war film tension.

This is not just a celebration of bravery—although there is that aspect as we see these soldiers carry out their mission. It also dives into the questions about the nature of war. It is not just the murder of a civilian that is at issue. These soldiers must also make decisions of life and death. They cannot just turn off their morality or their spiritual life. To kill another human is not an inconsequential occurrence. It leaves a spiritual mark. Perhaps some people can live with that, but not everyone. This film highlights the spiritual and emotional injuries that war brings as well as the physical costs.

As the story plays out, eventually Marson will have to decide just what kind of person he is. Can he kill just because it is war, or must he respond as a human—and as a Christian. That choice will have an almost karmic effect when we read the title card post script to the film.

From the times of the early church, war was seen as problematic. Saints Augustine and Thomas Aquinas both spoke of Just War—a recognition that war is inherently evil, but at times necessary. There may be questions whether modern weapons and technology make Just War possible. Part of Just War theory is not only the justice of the cause, but also the justice and morality of how war is carried out. Recon taps into that tradition of thinking of war.

Recon show through Fathom Events on November 10 and releases in limited theaters November 13.

Photos courtesy of Brainstorm Media.

The Keeper -Finding Forgiveness

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Based on a true story, The Keeper, from director Marcus H Rosenmüller, is the story of a German POW who in the post-war years becomes one of the most famous football (soccer to Americans) players in England. Along the way the story looks the difficulty of forgiving both our enemies and ourselves. And there’s a love story.

Bert Trautmann (David Kross) is a German paratrooper who fought most of the war in Poland, earning an Iron Cross. Late in the war, he’s captured by the British and placed in a POW camp in Lancashire. Because he volunteered for the German army and was well decorated, he gets some pretty nasty jobs in the camp. After the war, the POWs were kept there for some time until repatriation could happen.

One day when Jack Friar (John Henshaw) and his daughter Margaret (Freya Mavor) deliver goods to the camp, Friar sees Trautmann tending goal as the prisoners play football. He is exceptional. Friar is the manager of a local football club that is in dire need of improvement. He arranges to have Trautmann work for him so he can use him as a goalie in upcoming matches. The team prospers, and just about the time Trautmann is due to return to Germany, the manager of the Manchester City club offers him a tryout. Around this same time, Trautmann and Margaret marry. (The love story takes up most of the first half of the film.)

It is not easy for a former Nazi to be accepted either by teammates or fans. The issue was multiplied when he began playing in Manchester, which had a sizable Jewish population. In time, a rabbi who had fled Germany wrote an open letter saying that we shouldn’t judge on what we presume, but judge each by their merit. That let Trautmann find some acceptance, and his exceptional play led the team to more victories—eventually winning the FA Cup—a match in which Trautmann played the last 15 minutes with a broken neck.

The film, as is often the case with sports stories, deals with adversity, perseverance, and heroics. But it is also a love story, and that adds another dimension. In fact, this is more love story than sports story. But the issues of adversity, perseverance, and heroics are just as important in that part of the story.

Through the first half of the film, the adversity has to do with Trautmann’s past as a German soldier, and the perception others had of him. As one character tells him, “To me and everyone around me, you’re still the enemy.” Margaret was just as set against Trautmann as everyone else. But as she got to know him, and saw within him someone who had dreams and fears like everyone else, she softened to him.

Later in the film, other problems arise that test Trautmann individually, and him and Margaret as a couple. We learn in bits and pieces through the film some of the ghosts and guilt that haunt Trautmann. Just as Margaret, then fans had to come to term with how they viewed Trautmann’s past, so must he. Often it is much more difficult to forgive oneself that to find forgiveness in others.

There is an interesting side note in this film for people familiar with Christian hymnody (at least for non-British people). In the scene leading up to the famous championship game, we hear the crowd singing “Abide with Me”. It turns out that that is a tradition for the FA Cup Finals dating back to 1927. (I’ve yet to find an explanation.) It seems a strange song to sing prior to a sports match, given that it is a song asking for God’s presence at the time of death. The song is sung again at the end of the film. While the song is included mostly for its association to football, it also fits well at the end of the film because death crops up at various times in the film, as it does throughout our lives. It is a nice reminder of our need for God’s presence, not only when “fast falls the eventide”, but always.

The Keeper is opening in theaters (where open) and on virtual cinema through local arthouses.

Photos courtesy of Beta Cinema.

The Tobacconist – Becoming an Adult

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“We’re not in this world to find answers, but to ask qestions.”

Nikolaus Leytner’s The Tobacconist is a tale of looking for love, finding wisdom, and becoming an adult. As with many coming-of-age films there is movement from innocence to facing harsh realities. How one faces such realities has major consequences.

The film opens with 17 year-old Franz (Simon Monzé) sitting on the bottom of a lake. When he sees lightning flashing, he surfaces and runs home through the forest, past his mother and her lover having sex against a tree. Franz climbs into bed to hide. His mother’s lover decides to take a dip in the lake and is struck by lightning and dies. (A bit Oedipal?) His mother sends Franz off to Vienna to apprentice with Otto (Johannes Krisch), her former lover who runs a tobacco shop.

Otto, who lost a leg in World War I, is cynical, especially now that the Nazis have occupied Austria. Otto’s shop is welcoming to all, even Jews and Communists. (Although Otto is somewhat cold to a Nazi customer.) Otto begins to teach Franz about business, and dealing with people. The first lesson is that the shop is more than a place of business, it is a “temple of pleasure and spirit”. He also begins to help the naïve Franz see what is happening in the world around him.

One of the customers in the shop is Sigmund Freud (Bruno Ganz). When Franz asks the renown psychologist about love and women, Freud admits to being as confused about that as Franz. But he tells Franz you don’t have to understand water before you jump in to a lake. So Franz heads off to meet a girl and chooses Anezka (Emma Drougunova), a beautiful Bohemian who is a bit older and experienced. When she abandons him after a fun evening, he tracks her down to discover she lives in squalor and is a fan dancer. He tries to kindle a relationship, but it never quite takes off.

Meanwhile, the Nazi are beginning to crack down. Everyone is faced with choices to make for how they will survive. Otto is arrested. Freud’s family wants him to emigrate to London. Franz wants to have Anezka run away with him to some place peaceful. Suddenly Franz must take on maturity. But what will that mean? And what will it cost him?

An interesting part of this film, in light of Sigmund Freud being one of the key characters, is possible psychological images: begin underwater, dead animals, a spider that lives in the tobacco shop, and Franz’s many dreams, which Freud encourages him to write down. It might make for an interesting project to watch the film with Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams at hand. But in this film Freud never psychoanalyses Franz or his problems. Rather he serves, along with Otto, as a mentor to a young man who must grow up quickly.

The film tracks Franz’s growing maturity in a variety or ways. One subtle way is through clothing. For the first part of the film, Franz is always wearing short pants or knickers. After Otto’s arrest, when he must now run the shop himself, he begins to wear trousers. But the real coming-of-age moment is when Franz has taken Freud a gift of Havana cigars, Freud shares one with Franz who has not smoked prior to this. In that scene, Freud recognizes Franz as an adult, and perhaps Franz recognizes that for the first time.

As Franz makes his journey from naïveté to maturity, he grows through the wisdom imparted by his two mentors: Otto and Freud. Wisdom is something valued in scripture. But it is never seen as an easy path. In Proverbs, we are reminded that many follow after the siren call of Folly. In Ecclesiastes, the biblical cynic philosopher calls his search for wisdom “an unhappy business that God has given to human beings to be busy with.” In his time in Otto’s “temple of pleasure and spirit” Franz learns many new things. Through the words and actions of his two mentors, Franz begins to see that he must put away the childish part of his life. The world needs him to be involved and to act properly and courageously.

The Tobacconist is available on Virtual Cinema through local art houses.

Photos courtesy of Menemsha Films

Greyhound – Shepherd in the Midst of Wolves

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Open sea. No air cover. U-boats hunting in a pack. 37 merchant marine ships taking supplies and troops to the war in Europe. A handful of destroyers trying to protect the convoy. The man in charge is a first-time captain. Greyhound is primarily an action movie, but it is also a subtle character study of a man facing his self-doubts, fears, and responsibilities. The film is based on a C. S. Forester novel, The Good Shepherd. Forester is best known for the Horatio Hornblower series.

Commander Ernest Krause (Tom Hanks) is a career naval officer, but has never had a command of his own before. With the war going on, he is given a ship, and because of his seniority, he is the leader of a convoy of merchant ships and four destroyers. The task it to get as many as possible safely through the dangerous seas—a five day ordeal. When the U-boats begin their attacks, Krause must rise to the occasion.

Almost the entire film takes place on the bridge of the USS Keeling (codename: Greyhound). During the ongoing battle, there is a sense of both order and chaos as orders are given, repeated, relayed. The continuous threat and cat-and-mouse nature of hunting and being hunted creates a tension that remains throughout the film.  The tension is heightened a bit by the technological challenges of rudimentary radar and sonar, and the lack of easy communication, either between ships or onboard Greyhound.

Through watching this developing battle, we slowly discover the depth of this captain’s character. Hanks (who also wrote the script) is an expert at such roles. He does not tell us about who Krause is; it is all done through his actions and demeanor.

Krause is a devout man, kneeling in prayer before getting in his bunk, or eating (even when meals are bought to him on the bridge). His personal motto is “Yesterday, today, and forever”, taken from Hebrews 13:8. Even in the midst of a battle, he occasionally mutters scriptural phrases to himself. But perhaps the best window into Krause’s character happens after their first encounter with a U-boat.  They manage to sink it with depth charges. When the oil slick appears on the surface, Greyhound’s crew celebrates that they’ve gotten rid of fifty Nazis. Krause, however, is somber, recognizing the loss of fifty souls. That solemnity is seen again when, during a pause in the fighting, he must read the office for burial at sea for crewmembers killed in a battle. We can tell that the worlds of resurrection are important to him, but also a sense of failure at having lost the lives.

What the film isn’t able to do quite as well is share Krause’s introspection. In the midst of battle, he seems well controlled, but we also know that he’s afraid he isn’t doing enough. As I read through production notes, I learned a good deal about Krause (as he appears in the novel). Some of that backstory could have helped us better understand his doubts about himself.

I’m a bit intrigued about not using the novel’s title, because I think that title in itself would have told us about how Krause saw himself as he herded this convoy through wolves seeking to devour them. (And when we hear from the U-boat commander, he is very overt in that metaphor.) It would have also played well with the way Krause understood the Hebrews text. He is a follower of Jesus, and as such sees Jesus as a loving and faithful shepherd in his life. He is also striving to be just as caring and constant for the souls that have been entrusted to him.

Greyhound is available on Apple TV+ July 10.

Return to Hardwick – A Slice of History

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The 93rd Bomber Group was a highly decorated American fighting unit in the Second World War. In Return to Hardwick we revisit a bit of the unit’s history.

Hardwick Aerodrome 104, in England’s East Anglia, was an active airfield from which B-24 bombers would set out on (and hopefully return from) dangerous missions over Germany. Today it is farmland. Two of the three runways still exist on the land, but little else survives from that time. This film gives us a chance to hear stories of what life was like for those bombing crews, and to see some of those veterans and their younger family members as they return for reunions.

For director Michael Sellers this is a personal story. His grandfather took him to one of the reunions many year ago, which kindled in him the interest in the unit’s history. Actually, a good deal of this unit’s history has been preserved, in large part because of local residents who maintain a small museum in one of the old Quonset huts.

The personal aspect becomes clear in scenes of people attending a recent reunion on the site. As veterans tell their stories, or descendants look for special places where their fathers (and in one case, a mother) actually walked and worked during the war, it can become an emotional journey.

Among the things that struck me watching the film was the peace that has settled on that patch of land through the years. The pastoral setting and the green of the crops are a stark contrast to the photos we see of the same place when it was an air base. The two remaining runways, now probably used as roads, are the only evidence that this was a place where war was carried out.

It is also important to note the aging of the veterans. There are only a few left that were part of that unit during the war. It is always important to hear the voices and stories of history when they are available to us. That history is obviously important to the descendants of those who served at Hardwick because it gives them a chance to know their fathers/grandfathers more fully. It also matters to the rest of the world to have a clear picture of what happened in that time and place.

Return to Hardwick is available on VOD.

A Hidden Life: Resisting Evil

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Terrance Malick creates films that are spiritual experiences. Sometimes, it is more about the experience than story. (Personally, I love going through those experiences, but understand why some find it difficult.) In A Hidden Life, Malick creates an experience that relies on the real-life inspirational story of Franz Jägerstätter, an Austrian conscientious objector during World War II. Although it has the traditional plot framework, like many of Malick’s films, it feels more like visual poetry than the prose that makes up the story.

The tone of the film is set at the beginning as strains of Bach’s St. Matthew’s Passion plays over archival footage of Nazi parades and military parades. This dichotomy of the sacred and what is now nearly universally seen as the embodiment of evil speaks to the conflict upon which this film is built. We know from the beginning that this is a story of good and evil. We also know that it will surely be told with a spiritual depth that is rare to find in films.

August Diehl in the film A HIDDEN LIFE. Photo by Reiner Bajo. © 2019 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation All Rights Reserved

Franz Jägerstätter (August Diehl) is a peasant farmer living in an idyllic village in the Alpine foothills. He, his wife Fani (Valerie Pachner), and their three daughters live a happy life in a community that works, plays, and worships together. When Austria is annexed by Germany, Franz, like all Austrians, must report for basic training. Because farmers are important to the war effort, he soon returns home, but the threat of being called up is always on his mind. If he is called up, he will be required to take an oath of allegiance to Adolph Hitler, whom he sees as evil. (The term Antichrist is used about Hitler in the film, but not spoken by Franz. He does seem to agree with the characterization, though.)

As he awaits the possible call up, he and Fani discuss his options. He also becomes known to the community as an anti-Nazi (a stance most of the village disagree with). While others use “Heil Hitler” as a greeting, Franz dissents. He speaks with his parish priest, who is supportive, and even gets an audience with the local bishop, who is less so (perhaps out of fear that Franz might be a Gestapo spy).

August Diehl and Valerie Pachner in the film A HIDDEN LIFE. Photo by Reiner Bajo. © 2019 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation All Rights Reserved

When the call-up comes, Franz reports, but when the time comes to take the oath, he refuses—an act he knows may well lead to his immediate execution. Instead he is arrested and begins a period of months in prison, first in Austria, and then in Berlin. Many, his priest, his lawyer, military people, even other prisoners, make arguments that he should sign the oath and save his life. But in his heart, he must be faithful to himself and his Christian beliefs—even if it could lead to his death.

Meanwhile, back in the village, the Jägerstätter family is being ostracized. Fani and her sister are left to do all the farm work themselves, even when the others in the village help one another in these difficult times. Franz and Fani’s daughters have mud thrown at them by neighboring children.

During this period, we hear, mostly in voice over, the letters between Franz and Fani. The letters are in part love letters, but also an exploration of the faith in God these two people have as they face these trials. The way the letters are read make them seem poetic.

This is a film that has various layers for us to appreciate. As always with Malick films, A Hidden Life is gorgeous. Director of Photography Jeorg Widmer gives us jaw dropping shots of scenery. Even his shots inside prison speak as loudly as the dialogue in the film. The visuals of the film create a visual poetry that underlies the story we are told.

August Diehl in the film A HIDDEN LIFE. Photo by Reiner Bajo. © 2019 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation All Rights Reserved

Like some of Malick’s other films, he allows the visual aspects to help carry the story. The film is in English and German. The German portions are not subtitled, but in reality we don’t need the subtitles. We know perfectly well what is happening, even if we don’t know the words being said. The love letters are often heard as we see scenes from the life the two key characters are living out. Those scenes may not coincide with the words we hear, but they clearly are integrated to the emotional tone of the letters.

A good part of the film is built around those who try to get Franz to submit to the oath. It is not unlike the temptation of Christ or the discussions Job has with his friends. Each one brings a new reason for him to consider: it is really just a formality; no one really takes it seriously; he has a duty to his family to stay alive and support them; he can be assigned hospital duty and not be part of the fighting; no one will know what he is doing so it is a wasted effort; it is his patriotic duty to support his nation; it is biblical to obey those in authority because they have been put there by God. And like Jesus in the wilderness or Job among the ashes. Franz holds firm to his position that he is doing right and his duty to God.

For one who remembers the draft during the Vietnam War, I recognize those arguments, which are similar to those made against conscientious objectors in that period. Like Jägerstätter’s neighbors, there were many during the Vietnam era who considered COs to be cowards and traitors. It was often a difficult path for those who sought to live out their faith in that time by refusing to take part in what they considered an unjust and illegal war.

August Diehl and Valerie Pachner in the film A HIDDEN LIFE. Photo Courtesy of Fox Searchlight Pictures. © 2019 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation All Rights Reserved

In one of his letters Franz writes, “”If I must write… with my hands in chains, I find that much better than if my will were in chains. Neither prison nor chains nor sentence of death can rob a man of the Faith and his free will.” In this he echoes the Apostle Paul, who spoke of himself as an “ambassador in chains”. For Franz, the Nazis might control his body and even take his life, but on a spiritual level, his freedom was his own.

A word should be said about the length of the film. Its running time is three hours. While leaving the theater after seeing this at AFI Fest, I overheard a conversation in which some one asked if it needed to be three hours. I thought that perhaps it didn’t need to be that long, but there is no reason for it not to be that long. And because it is such an immersive and at times meditative experience, the running time could easily be seen as adding to the strength of the film.

Valerie Pachner and August Diehl in the film A HIDDEN LIFE. Photo Courtesy of Fox Searchlight Pictures. © 2019 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation All Rights Reserved

For the record, Franz Jägerstätter was declared a martyr by Pope Benedict XVI and beatified in 2007. It should be noted that the word martyr comes from the Greek word for witness. Franz Jägerstätter servs as a witness to what it means to be faithful in the face of evil. His story was relatively unknown for many years. One argument made by his tempters was that no one would ever know his story, so it was an empty act. But now, his story comes to us with power and faith to speak to how we are called to live in the world when evil often appears in many manifestations that seek to either force us to take part, or at the very least stand silently by.

A Hidden Life was awarded the Prize of the Ecumenical Jury at Cannes.

Photos courtesy of Fox Searchlight Pictures

Memoir of War – Morass of Emotion

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Memoir of War (La Douleur) is a semi-autobiographical story of writer Marguerite Duras recounting her time late in World War II and its aftermath. Duras was a part of the French Resistance and went on after the war to have a career as a writer and a filmmaker (including an Oscar nomination for her screenplay of Hiroshima Mon Amour).

This is a story of Marguerite (Mélanie Thierry) and her angst as she awaits news of her husband Robert Antelme who has been arrested and deported to Dachau. As the film opens (shortly after the war’s end) she is waiting at the train station watching various returnees coming back to Paris, yet Robert is not among them. We then move back to 1944 when she goes to the German Headquarters in Paris to try to get word of where he is. Here too, she waits and waits before anyone will see her. She befriends a Nazi sympathizer, Rabier (Benoît Magimel), in hopes of getting more information, but this is also very dangerous for her Resistance cell.

At about the halfway mark of the film, Paris is liberated. Days, weeks, and months pass as she awaits any news of Robert. All the while one of her cell colleagues, Dionys (Benjamin Biolay) remains constant with her, offering both encouragement and affection.

Because this is a memoir, it is a bit internal. More than anything else we note Marguerite’s emotional state. Throughout the film it seems she never eats—even as others do. While the rest of Paris celebrates the end of the occupation, Marguerite is totally despondent. As a neighbor puts it, “Waiting keeps her alive.” Her pain becomes the center of her life. Others may think she is too consumed by her suffering, but she can see no way out. Dionys asks her at one point, “Are you more attached to your pain or to Robert Antelme?”

For Marguerite in the film, her fear and depression are overwhelming. Even the people around her and their love and attention cannot bring her out of her “slough of despond”. While viewers (and even her friends in the film) may think she is wallowing in sorrow, this is a reminder that often people’s pain can become debilitating. Often all we can do is be present with them. But to be with them is what is called for.

Photos courtesy of Music Box Films

 

The Captain – Responding to Authority

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“Everyone gets their due.”

The power of authority is at the center of The Captain, a German film from Robert Schwentke. But the authority in the film is based in a lie. In spite of that, the authority is perceived as real by everyone involved.

Based on a true story, the film is set in the last two weeks of World War II. Willi Herold (Max Hubacker) is a deserter who barely escapes MPs. He exists by looting farms. When he comes upon a disabled car he finds an officer’s luggage and puts on the uniform and begins to take on the persona of an officer. Freytag (Milan Peschel), another soldier separated from his unit (or maybe another deserter), attaches himself to Herold as his driver and aide. When they come upon other soldiers checking papers, Herold acts aloof and claims to be on orders from Hitler himself. Although he has no proof, no one is willing to challenge him. Soon he gathers a group of soldiers (mostly other deserters) around him. He is essentially a con man who takes advantage of people’s fear.

Ironically, he is called on to deal with a deserter who has been caught looting. To prove his power he executes the deserter. That is the beginning of a spree that will become increasingly violent and sadistic. He and his cohort come to a detention camp filled with deserters. Even though the camp authorities have their doubts, Herold sets up his own brand of summary justice, killing scores with great cruelty. Later Herold and his band move to a nearby town where they continue their lawlessness in the name of the law.

Of course, as viewers we understand just how empty Herold’s authority is. Yet, for those he encounters, it is hard for them to doubt the things he says, even though he has no written proof of anything. Just because he wears that uniform and acts as though he has been given power by the highest authority, people will do as he commands.

However, from time to time we see Freytag, who often tries to stay in the background, as he watches Herold play out his role. Freytag, unlike the other soldiers following Herold, is disapproving of the cruelty. It may be that viewers will want to identify with Freytag and his sense of horror at what he sees happening. But the question the film wants to ask is to what extent do we also stand and watch, while doing nothing to stop what is obviously wrong?

Although it is important to note the historical context of the film, we should not simply think that the cruelty of the Third Reich would make this seem acceptable for the various people that encountered Herold. For the most part, the German people of that time were not much different from the people we encounter each day. They are all just trying to get through the ups and downs of life as we are. When something terrible takes place, we may be disgusted—perhaps even angry—at what we see taking place, but are hesitant to step in and challenge the authority of those doing such things. During the end credits, we see Herold and his gang of thugs in a modern setting, reminding us that this film speaks to today.

Photos courtesy of Music Box Films.

The Girl and the Picture – 1 on 1 Interview with Director Vanessa Roth

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I recently had the chance to talk by phone with Academy Award winner Vanessa Roth about her new short documentary, The Girl and the Picture, that played at the Newport Beach Film Festival. The film tells the story of Madame Xia, who as an eight year old girl survived the Nanjing Massacre (sometimes referred to as the Rape of Nanjing). In that massacre she saw her family murdered by Japanese soldiers. She was seen on film made by John Magee, an American missionary in Nanjing at the time. In The Girl and the Picture, Madame Xia recounts her story for her granddaughter Yuan and great-grandson Yuhan. The film also follows Chris Magee, grandson of John Magee, on his trip to Nanjing to find a new connection with his grandfather, and to meet Madame Xia.

We spoke a bit about the idea of bearing witness, which is central to the film. She recounted about Xia telling her story long ago to John Magee, who recorded this in his journal and diary and later testified at a war crimes tribunal.

She then went on: Later we have Madame Xia telling her story to her granddaughter and great-grandson. And then we also have this stirring witness of her granddaughter writing her grandson who then can pass that down as well. So as much as it’s very specifically about this horrible moment in history of the Nanjing Massacre and this day that her family had been massacred. It is also very much about bearing witness and storytelling itself.

How did you come to this project?

I’d been approached by the USC Shoah Foundation in this past summer. They’d been working with Madame Xia on another project that they were doing with her about testimony. Madame Xia is one of only a hundred living survivors of the Nanjing Massacre left. So it’s very urgent to get as much firsthand storytelling of that moment in history as possible. The Shoah Foundation wanted to expand the work they were doing with the Nanjing Massacre and with Madame Xia in particular to have a film. So I think what I brought to it was that I wanted to do something different than had been done before. Madame Xia didn’t speak about her experience at all until she was in her sixties. But then since then she does speak about it a lot and has been interviewed by a lot of journalists. But I noticed in the footage I’ve seen, what she tells is the moment of the massacre which was very important, but what I really wanted to get into was the idea of family storytelling and legacy and history and how the much more much more personal kind of exploration of what historic moments mean to people.

That family storytelling, I think, is interesting because you structure your film that way coming from a couple different directions. With Madame Xia sharing with her granddaughter and great-grandson, and then with Chris Magee, the grandson of John Magee going back to where his grandfather was. I think the sharing shifts if you’re sharing a story with the world and if you’re sharing the story with your family.

Exactly. I think in families you’re able to ask different questions that a stranger is able to ask or a book is able to get at. Personal moment becomes relatable because we all have relationships with family that I think it’s given that there’s a certain human condition, no matter where we’re from or what generations we’re from, and that’s the kind of thing that can come out in storytelling like this. Grandchildren have different questions of the grandparents because that’s their grandparent. They’re not just looking at it with a lens of “tell me about this one moment”, but as a grandchild, a great-grandchild, you have a certain investment, because it’s you—your own story really. You’re hearing about your family.

With Chris it was a personal journey that he took into the footsteps of his own grandfather. The special think about Chris Magee is he’s actually a filmmaker himself. He’s a cameraman. I wonder about these family connections. How much do we carry with us—our own ancestors’ essence without knowing it. It’s just interesting to me what drove him to become a cameraman himself. He was able to go back to Nanjing and try to see more about his own grandfather.

It’s interesting his perception. For him John Magee was the grandfather. When he gets to Nanjing he is a great hero to be celebrated.

Actually that’s how Chris Magee had grown up, knowing his grandfather actually in that way. He’d been told as he grew up that his grandfather had all these historic films and knew his grandfather, John Magee, had testified at the war tribunals. And he’d known him in this way. And actually what was interesting is when he went back to Nanjing, that’s when he actually connected with him more on a personal level in an interesting way, where he’d kind of only known him through his films. Then when he went to Nanjing and walked in those same footsteps, I think he felt more affected. Then whe he met Madame Xia, I think that it made it even more personal.

How did you find and connect with Chris Magee?

There’s a woman in Canada named Linda Granfield who’s been working on the history of the Magee family. The Magee family is fascinating. She’s been working on that for years and years and years. So she’s really the historian of historians on the Magee family. Then the Magee family archives are actually at the Yale Divinity School. We reached out to both of them and said, “Who down the line in John Magee’s family would be somebody that we could speak with?” I specifically wanted a grandchild to talk to. So we’d been put in touch with one of John Magee’s sons—the last son still living, Hugh Magee. And Hugh put us in touch with Chris and said, “I think Chris is the person that would be a wonderful addition to this film because he’s a cameraman himself. He’s always been very interested in the Nanjing films. He has a deep connection to wanting to know about history and wanting to know Nanjing.”

In the process of making the film is there somewhere you had your own sense of growth or discovery?

Anytime I make any film. This film in particular I set out to make something that was to personalize a moment in history, For me, I really didn’t know about that history at all. I had to do a lot of research to even understand the context of everything. And also it’s another culture, another language. There’s always the self-reflection and the growth that has to has to happen. I wanted to make a film that anyone could relate to, that’s very personable, and to feel that the people in the film, that it was their voice. So for me that was just an extension of the positions I ended up putting myself in with the films I make, being in a culture and language very different from what I know or have known, and to make sure that I’m open to telling the story that presents itself to me and not the story that I go in thinking it will be. The main thing is that it all cemented even more with what I hoped I would have gotten out of making the film, which is this idea and conviction I have that we are all relatable to each other if asked the right questions and  we’re able to tell our stories and asked to tell our stories, and to kind of shatter this idea of otherness that gets created too often.

Ethel & Ernest – Extraordinary Ordinariness

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“There was nothing extraordinary about my Mum and Dad. Nothing dramatic. . .. But they were my parents and I wanted to remember them by doing a picture book.”

British author and illustrator Raymond Briggs told his parent’s very ordinary story in a graphic novel, Ethel & Ernest, which has now been made into an animated film. The film is as simple and unassuming as the two people at its heart. And that is where the emotional power of the film comes from—just seeing the story of people who lived their lives, as nearly all of us do, without fanfare, but still find happiness and love.

Ernest (Jim Broadbent) is a milkman who is both affable and outgoing. Ethel (Brenda Blethyn) was serving as a maid when she met Ernest, and having learned upper-class manners never likes to think of the family as working class. They have very different outlooks. Ernest, a socialist, favors the Labour Party; Ethel supports the Tories. They needle each other about this through the years. Ernest is always up-to-date on world affairs; Ethel usually looks no further than the family needs.

Although the Briggses are very typical, the times they lived in were certainly dramatic. They have a chance meeting in 1928, which leads to courtship, marriage, family. They live through the Great Depression, World War II, and the post-war social shift and spreading affluence. They died within months of each other in 1971. The film leads us through this history, but it is always focused on the love and relationship that gave meaning to their lives. Even when they have a child, the real focus of the film is the relationship of Ernest and Ethel. (After all, it is that child who created the story. He is intent on celebrating these two loving people and has managed to keep himself a minor character in their story.)

When I got the promotion about this film, I thought it sounded like an animated “Masterpiece Theatre”. And it would be a good fit for that PBS series. But unlike the cultural voyeurism of Downton Abbey, Ethel & Ernest is very much the story of everyday people. It is the story of the people who are around us. It is the story of us. Raymond Briggs did not tell their story because they led extraordinary or dramatic lives, but because of the love they shared with each other and with him. That may seem ordinary, but in reality it is the most extraordinary kind of life.

Photos courtesy Ethel & Ernest Productions