Documentaries draw new genre lines

Author: Dana Walters

While the label "animated documentary" might sound contradictory, almost to the point of seeming oxymoronic, Professor of Japanese Studies Carole Cavanaugh argues that it might embody the most honest version of the documentary genre yet. In her stimulating lecture, "Drawing on Truth: Animated Documentaries from Japan, Iran and Israel," she drew on the film "Waltz with Bashir," Ari Folman's account of trying to recapture his memories from the 1982 Lebanon War, as evidence for the subgenre's exclusive relationship with the concept of "truth" - an idea masquerading as objective and concrete, but that holds more ambiguity than any animated documentary ever could. Indeed, "Waltz with Bashir," a powerful dive into one man's psyche, confirms for a skeptical audience that the "animated documentary" has arrived.

Cavanaugh began reconsidering her conception of the animated film, and of the documentary itself, after viewing "Waltz With Bashir." In her lecture, she commented on other films, like the 1951 children's educational animated film "Duck and Cover," a piece composed with the purpose of teaching children how to respond to an atomic attack, and Errol Morris's 1988 documentary "The Thin Blue Line," which uses extensive recreation to simulate the story of a contested murder. Both of these films fall within the realm of animation, which is only considered permissible for children, and within the realm of documentary, which many believe is only permissible using a "photographic" reality. Cavanaugh, however, contended that with "Waltz with Bashir" entering into the Oscar race - and subsequently the mainstream paradigm of the film world - perhaps the general public is ready for serious animation like the Japanese have been using for years.

In addition to "Bashir," her lecture also referenced "Persepolis," a film based on Marjane Satrapi's graphic novel about her experience growing up during the Iranian revolution, and "Barefoot Gen," a true account of the Hiroshima atomic explosion. All three films confront the problematic representation of national trauma - a difficult conception to grasp because of how it resurrects itself within people's memories. The animated style, therefore, becomes not only a more honest way to represent these stories of mass death and hardship, but furthermore offers improvement over the old style of photographic "reality" of documentation due to its ability to extrapolate into the fantastical and subjective tunnels of the mind.

Cavanaugh, with wit and conversational ease, turned her lecture into a seminar. Leaving more than adequate time for questions, she merely introduced the motivation behind the "animated documentary," and suggested a discussion of its uses in filmmaking instead of presenting a serious and authoritative conclusion upon her research. Although just barely breaking the surface of the style, its history and its current status, Cavanaugh did more than enough to pique the audience's interests, making those in attendance reconsider their own notions of what a documentary should be.

Part of the problem with documentaries, Cavanaugh explained, is that the audience already holds genre expectations. By the end of her lecture, she had made clear that the shifting paradigm that has come with the arrival of "Waltz with Bashir" is one that can make way for a better type of documentary - one in which the audience understands that the truth of movies is always subjective, no matter the genre. Animation, in its ability to stretch the bounds of reality, gives rise to this necessary skepticism - an emotion that should be present at the watching of any film, especially a documentary.