the following is documentation of my thoughts. that makes this a documentary. look at the diversity.

It seems to me that we struggled as a class to define “documentary”.  We mentioned how some documentaries suggest an opinion while others are strictly factual, how some are just talking heads while others are in the form of a movie (Charlie Wilson’s War, Game Change, etc.), or even how some are giving you new information about a common item or occurrence in our lives while others are introducing us to an issue totally foreign to us. There’s this diversity in “documentaries” that made it hard for us to decide what they were in only a few words. Hmm… maybe there are different forms of documentaries… so why do we have to do that?

Compare the documentary to literature or film. Some documentaries suggest or subtly imply an opinion. Can’t I say the same thing about movies? Does Supersize Me suggest an opinion any more than Doubt or Crimes and Misdemeanors? Some documentaries are in the form of a story and some are strictly factual. Okay. Books. We have non-fiction. We have historical novels.

If we asked the class “what makes a good book” instead, or to even define what that is, it wouldn’t at all be the same conversation. No one would disagree that documentaries and books have similarities, but when people think about just “books”, they think of that as broad, while a “documentary” is a very specific form of film. Well I disagree. Look, I love that we break “books” down into fiction, non-fiction, historical-fiction, sci-fi, romance, and all the rest. You can think of two books that would definitely be in two totally different sections because they’re so different. On the Duty of Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau and Harry Potter: The Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling. But we could do the same for film, and we could even do the same for documentaries. America: The Story of Us is a re-enactment film with talking heads here and there, Iranian Taboo is a series of real, graphic scenes to desensitize Iranians about a domestic social issue, and Charlie Wilson’s War is a Hollywood movie starring Tom Hanks and Philip Seymour Hoffman (but with no slight deviation from historical truth).

Though documentaries are a subform of film, they still come in different ways. Films and books are subforms of literature, so are you going to tell me they're the same? Can you summarize them both as one thing in only a few words?

face off.

 Forget the circumstances around this image for a minute. To get a better understanding, let’s ignore the context and focus on the content. Doubt is very much about clarity versus uncertainty. Its brilliance is not in that the characters are in this struggle of doubt, but that the audience is in the dark as well. We’re constantly battling between doubt and certainty ourselves. Though we never reach a certain answer, we all come to our conclusions. How? Through the little hints the director chooses to imply their own interpretation. And each character, scene, even moment does it differently. The smallest things—even single frames—can add to our battle of certainty versus doubt. So forget what’s happening in this scene, who’s in it, what she’s doing. Focus only on this still image.

            It’s a close up—notice that the subject of this image takes up the entire foreground (besides the papers, which are blurred out), and that the background is simple, and more importantly, not attention-grabbing. Instead, your attention is entirely on the subject. Her facial expression is very obviously expressing certainty. The way she looks down at you condescendingly, how still her brow is, even the slight wrinkles in her cheek are condescending! But then you have to consider where on the subject your attention is most focused toward. And it’s her eyes. Look at her eyes especially. With the angle the director is using, her eyes are almost perfectly framed. They’re positioned in the upper left intersection of the frame, and not only that, but are looking into the lens. You know that’s where the director wants you to look, and when you do, you’re making eye contact with her. The look she’s giving is right at you. Eye contact is an expression of certainty and honesty. If you were doubtful or dishonest, you would be looking away, and no way would you be this still. No, this face is one of anger, maybe disgust, maybe disappointment, but certainly one of action. One of decisiveness. And that’s the certainty the director perfectly frames, with literally nothing to distract you from it.

            Now switch to Judah. This is from Crimes and Misdemeanors, but imagine the circumstances of this shot are the exact same as the one from Doubt. It’s just a central character looking at some papers. However, the reaction is being caught differently, and it says something about doubt versus certainty.

Again, the background allows you to focus on the subject. But the subject itself is what’s being framed differently, changing how we see his reaction and what it means. This time, our subject is centered, looking straight down. Sure, we can look at the facial expression again and compare it to Sister Aloysius’. This time, his brow is curved downward, his mouth slightly opened and crooked, and instead of coming off certain or condescending, looks worried and concerned. Nothing about his face looks certain. But it was the eyes of Sister Aloysius in the shot from Doubt that was so powerful. So when comparing these two faces, that’s really what we need to focus on. How this shot is framed, his are also looking down, but not directly toward us. We’re angled differently. His eyes are centered this time, but are not looking into the lens. This time, the director doesn’t only draw us to the eyes, but to the entire face as well. His face is much less still, and far more revealing, while it was Sister Aloysius’ eyes that dominated her look of certainty above all else.

Surely, both of their entire faces express certainty in her case and doubt in his, and it isn’t only the eyes that give it away. But a concerned or uncertain face is much more obvious than one that expresses certainty. As I said, his face didn’t rely solely on his eyes, while hers did. In your head, take these images and flip the angles. Imagine looking at Judah from the paper’s point of view. Imagine how his eyes look from that angle. Then do the same for Sister Aloysius at a dead-on angle with her face center-frame. It’s the way she looks at you so condescendingly that expresses certainty, and from this new angle, it’s not there; it just looks like she’s reading. With Judah, yes, he probably still looks worried, but it’s his entire face that’s expressing this worry, and highlighting his entire face rather than only his eyes makes that more apparent. So, their faces were framed and angled entirely differently.

Now you can consider what these shots mean in their contexts. In Doubt, this may be a clue to the audience that she has certainty, while in Crimes and Misdemeanors, you’re being introduced to his uncertainty. Then there’s the thematic context. In comparison, both movies are about the doubts or certainties of moral situations, so perhaps it’s not only a hint to their certainties about the situation, but also about their own moralities. If she has this look of positivity, maybe she’s the character who’s morality is clear, while he’s a character who’s sense of morality is the opposite—uncertain.

the new plight of the native american: bias.

There is no excuse for being insensitive or ignorant to any atrocity at the scale of genocide. We need only to be more educated about the atrocities committed in Germany, Russia, Japan, Rwanda, Darfur, etc. Our understanding needs to be no less than perfectly accurate.

In the United States for example, the prospective on the “plight of the Native American” has changed over time in expedience with our national interest.  When we were conquering new land and expanding a slave-trade economy, we branded the “Indian” as a vicious savage who was in the way of economic expansion and new religious establishment. We committed a genocide that resulted in the deaths of over twenty-six million natives. Soon after, we denied them government, forced them to the west of the Mississippi, and finally, under our government, refused to grant certain Civil Rights. Now, in a more progressive America, these atrocities are obvious and their evils apparent. Certainly the natives still face issues—like mass poverty for example—and with limited assistance from their “American” counterparts.

However, this awareness brought about a new bias. Again, it’s impossible to be overly sensitive to the abusive history the natives endured, but the perception of their culture still is an over-simplification and exaggeration of what their history truly was. Because they’re seen as the victims, they’re now portrayed in movies like Pocahontas or Avatar as totally peaceful societies only interested in unity and somehow environmental protection. In reality, the natives were just as violent as our European ancestors, but simply weren’t as good at it. Look at a map of Europe—kingdoms and nations are compact. Constant competition turned the wheels of European history. England, for instance, was for centuries in constant civil war. France and Germany were also made up of smaller Kingdoms and of course if you go even further back, Rome was rather savage as well. So, these nations and civilizations were constantly developing new weapons and armor to conquer their enemies. Meanwhile, in the Americas or in Africa, tribes were spread out, and only had to develop weapons sophisticated enough to conquer, well, animals. So when experienced Europeans with guns, germs, and steel came to these American shores, it was hardly a fair fight. It wasn’t about who was more savage.

The other new bias mentioned is the connection between these societies with the Earth. In Avatar, the natives are so in tune with the planet, they’re literally connected to it, while the invasive whites were so alien they didn’t even understand or care about basic environmental sciences. But, historically speaking, the natives were no better at farming or irrigation than the Europeans. In fact, they were worse, which is what makes that portrayal just a bias.

Avatar is an interesting example because the natives are meant to be interpreted as a peaceful race while the Americans were cruel and violent aliens. But, when the one American tried to be a native, he was actually better at being a native than the natives! It’s really saying that Americans are really bad when they’re trying to be bad, but when they’re trying to be good, they’re actually better at being good than the natives! Historically, that’s just an absolutely ridiculous thing to say.

Let me be clear. These new perceptions are an obvious step forward. The more educated we are, the more victimized they get—which is the right direction. There is no other way to see it. We only need to caution ourselves and be weary of how our modern media creates certain biases that misinform us about history. The natives were violent. Europeans were just better at it. The natives were not in tune with nature—their societies were, again, due to lack of competition, not as complex and therefore seem closer to our origins—nature. The natives didn’t even ride on horses and hunt buffalo until we taught them how to effectively do both. Horses aren’t even native to the Americas. So while we need to constantly grow our understanding of the plight of the Native Americans, know two things: 1. The Natives have endured constant abuse at catastrophic levels towards their culture and their peoples, and 2. New perceptions can accidentally create new biases towards both Americans and Native Americans.