Iraq in Fragments

Well, I finally found the very best documentary from 2006. This exploration of Iraq is reminiscent of the beautiful ethnographic documentaries (and faux-documentaries) of pioneer Robert J. Flaherty. The images are awe-inspiring and completely indelible. The film is broken into three parts. In the first segment, we follow the life of an 11 year-old Sunni boy in Baghdad. The second depicts Shia Muslims in Southern Iraq, particularly the followers of Moqtada al-Sadr. And the third follows a Kurdish family in Northern Iraq. Unlike Flaherty's documentaries, Longley's film is entirely real. The man spent two years wandering Iraq by himself with a camera starting in April of 2003, less than a month after George W. Bush famously declared that major military operations were complete. He's a white man, and it's stunning that he was able to infiltrate these people and film them on such an intimate level. The first and third segments probably held their own danger, but the second segment is especially impressive. How in Hell was Langley able to accompany Shi'ites as they kidnapped alcohol-peddling shopkeepers? It's mind-boggling. This is a rare documentary that is both informative and incredibly cinematic. As a whole, I think Iraq in Fragments comes pretty close to being a masterpiece. There's a silhouetted sequence of some Kurdish kids burning a tractor tire that is one of the most gorgeous shots I've ever seen. Definitely one of the best films of 2006.

This documentary, shot shortly after the fall of Saddam Hussein, offers some remarkable footage of everyday life in post-war Iraq. What is suffers from slightly is its desire to work as art rather than documentary - there are a lot of fast moving montages, separated from the words of the people being shown, and often they're beautiful and striking; but you find yourself wishing that the film would slow down, and let you form a more definite, precise impression of the world being depicted. Equally, any of the three "fragments" of this film could easily have made a documentary in itself, and while exposition may be a the crime in fiction, I would have liked more of it here - who are these people, and what exactly is their position? But in spite of this, I still enjoyed the film, as an evocative glimpse into lives rarely seen; and knowing that things have got worse not better since it was shot, it's a heartbreaking glimpse as well.

Longley's visually beautiful and emotionally saddening film in three parts, shot during two years spent in Iraq between the immediate aftermath of the invasion in 2003 and 2005, arouses tremendous hopes but ends by quite dashing them. Longley is great with a camera and patient with children and his documentary is full of lovely, yellow-filtered images. But the project to describe post-invasion Iraq is both over-ambitious and reductive. Longley wants to cover what he thinks are the three main divisions of the country -- Sunni, Shiite, and Kurd. But he tries to do this by reducing his focus to children and old people, speeches, and a few scenes of public violence, and the result feels empty.

Most memorable, because most integrated and most eloquently narrated (by the wispy, childish voice of the boy himself), is the first segment about eleven-year-old fatherless Mohammad (his father disappeared after speaking up about Saddam at some time in the past), who lives and works in the Sheikh Omar district of Baghdad. The camera is close up on Mohammad's sweet, expressive young face; or his voice-over declares, "Baghdad used to be beautiful" over shots of the city before the invasion (Longley made a short visit in 2002) and then, "the world is so scary now" as we watch big brown helicopters sputter threateningly overhead.

We never see Mohammad at home, but Longley hung out at the little auto repair shop where Mohammad was working long enough to fade into the tool racks and, astonishingly, to film uninterrupted Mohammad's encounters with his sometimes affectionate but more often abusive boss -- who smacks him and calls him a son of a whore for playing marbles with other boys; for not knowing how to spell his father's name; and finally for even spending time at school, which he is forced to give up to keep the job.

The boss also speechifies a bit about the occupation, which he considers far inferior to the days of Saddam: we can't help seeing this fat bully as a little Saddam lingering on in the Sheikh Omar district. Other voices are cut in throughout the segment with Baghdadis, presumably Sunnis (since that's meant to be the focus of this section), declaring the same things: the Americans just came to set up a military base, they're here for the oil (Mohammad says that too), they have not brought democracy, it's even worse now than under Saddam, everything they say is a lie.

Desperate for a father, Mohammad murmurs repeatedly that his boss loves him but in the end admits he has to escape the abuse. The rationalizing over, he leaves to work at his uncle's larger shop. He may still have his dreams of becoming a pilot and flying to more beautiful countries. Earlier, we watched him at school looking bright and eager as the teacher drilled the children on the words "dar" (house) and "dur" (houses) and how to use them.

Did Mohammad get to go back to school and learn how to write "Haithem" (his father's name)? We don't know, nor do we see his new workplace, or hear from relatives. Why did Longley focus so much time and attention on this boy? There's something heartrending about his little story, but he can't be seen as the future of the country. Alas, he has little future. This picture of Baghdad is vivid, but incomplete.

Parts two and three focus on Moqtada Sadr, Najf, and the movement to empower the Shiite majority and bring religious rule to the country; and on a sheep-herding and brick-making family in Kurdistan. Longley and his interpreter Nadeem gain access to the Moqtada camp through one of his men, thirty-two-year-old Sheikh Aws al-Kafaji, who let them film his activities, strategy meetings, rallies, marches, speeches, religious ceremonies, and an alcohol raid on the local market. There's even footage of a hospital, with a wounded man on a stretcher yelling, "Is this democracy?" "Amrika 'adu Allah," someone declares -- America is the enemy of God. Most noteworthy is footage of Sadr's men (or Kafaji's?) roughing up random people in the market suspected of selling booze and of encounters of Sadr's men with Spanish troops around the Imam Ali Shrine. The rest is a chaos of images, vivid and intense enough, but -- despite clear translations in subtitles of all the speechifying and excerpts from committee meetings -- without any sense of what it all may mean. No doubt about the fact that a lot of this material was dangerous to shoot, and again, Longley's camera-work is superior; this section will serve as excellent stock footage for future historical documentaries of the period.

Things became so dangerous that by September 2004, Longley decided to go north -- Koretan, south of Erbil, a small community of farms and brick ovens. From here on, no more Arabic is spoken, only the Kurdish language. After all the tumult of the Shiite uprising, Longley reverts to a smaller canvas, again focusing on boys, two close friends this time, so intimate they walk hand in hand to school, and their fathers. Mostly we see one of the boys, "Sulei" (Suleiman), an unsmiling youth with a chiseled face who wants to be a doctor, and his aging, bespectacled, chain-smoking father, a shepherd. Sulei talks about struggling to study his hardest to go into medicine, but again, the demands of supporting his aging dad and working both at baking bricks and tending sheep force Sulei to drop out of school -- even sadder than the case of Mohammad in Baghdad, because Sulei had a real desire to be somebody. The picture is the opposite here. Someone mentions Saddam's massacre of Kurds in the Eighties and moving in of Arabs, and the old man says, "God brought America to the Kurds." Quite a contrast to "America is the enemy of God." But again, a lonely boy without a future is no picture of the Kurds.

There are a lot of documentary films about Iraq now. Most of them are about US soldiers in Iraq -- and that's fine. But those films are really more about the US experience than about Iraq as a country.

What IRAQ IN FRAGMENTS does is show the country, the people, that the US has occupied. And it does so with such beauty. I have never seen such a gorgeous documentary as this. The cinematography will knock your socks off. And so will the access Longley has to his film subjects, which is amazing. It's almost like the camera is totally invisible, floating in the air around the people in this film. When the lights came up I was sad; I just wanted it to keep going. Watching this film is like being placed inside Iraq, like magic.

This is stunning film.

Although perhaps it would have had more impact seeing the film right when initially released, when the conflict in Iraq was near its peak of violence, the documentary still offers a highly unique look into the Sunni, Shia, and Kurd conflicts. This is the ultimate slice of life documentary that delves straight into the everyday lives of Iraqis. Its goal isn't to offer some kind captivating narrative, nor to offer any kind of political commentary. It moves at a slow, tranquil pace, loosely structured in three chapters. The filmmaker, James Longley, stays as detached and neutral as possible, yet his camera is always strikingly up close and intimate with his subjects. There is no narration, allowing the people being filmed to fully tell their stories. The craft on display comes from the editing, which is highly stylized -- however, save for a few moments where it was overly jerky, the editing is in my opinion masterful and gives the film such a unique feel and rhythm that I haven't found in any other documentary. This might be a stretch, but at times while watching I felt like this is the kind of documentary that Terrence Malick would make. It's that cinematic! Needless to say, I also thought it was visually stunning.

I imagine many will be turned off by Longley's technique here, but I think if you're in a mellow mood, the film can slowly take hold of you and let you become immersed in the setting and the people's lives. The film offers nothing more than a look into the struggling lives of Iraqi citizens, dealing with foreign occupiers, adjusting after years of oppression, and trying to survive in an intense civil/religious war among each other. We witness their every day lives, the mundane and constant struggle of it all. We listen in on their conversations and interactions. We see them in both happy and sad moments. Ones of despair and chaos. We see brutality and bloodshed. Some have called this film boring, but I found it a very unique, at times fascinating, and always intimate portrait of a great human struggle.

This is an essential film for people interested in the conflict or documentaries as an art-form.