五台破相机 5 Broken Cameras(2011)
简介：
- 巴勒斯坦农民埃梅德因为记录小儿成长而开始拍摄视频，但随着儿子长大，以巴冲突亦越演越烈。他们一家所居住的村落不停受到以色列军队来袭，后来更被占据。当家园变成战区，埃梅德和好友走在抗衡以军最前线，以摄像机第一身记录巴勒斯坦农民的和平示威以及军队对平民的暴行，拍摄时经常引起军人的戒心和不满。五年间，埃梅德被打烂了五部摄像机，每部机代表着不同时期的过渡，记录整个战事的变化。电影像是日记般，以私人图像的角度记录着埃梅德与家人如何跌跌碰碰地走过战火当下，同时诉说着巴人对和平的向往。
演员：
影评：
- 本片的素材几乎全部来自 Emad Burnat，本片导演之一，Bil'in 的农民，正如影片中所讲的那样。但没有另一位导演，以色列人Guy Davidi，就不会有此片，更谈不上能广为人知。Guy Davidi帮助Emad组织素材，撰写文本，实际上是替Emad说出了也许Emad自己没有能力表达的东西。Emad只是个普通巴勒斯坦农民，没有Guy Davidi对电影的构想，更重要的，没有Guy Davidi的"国际式的""语言"，那些素材就难以发出适当的、可为世界上其他地方的人们能够理解的声音。
在此特别向看过本片的朋友们推荐下面这篇对Guy Davidi的采访（对Emad Burnat的采访附链接）。Guy Davidi作为同情巴勒斯坦人遭遇的少数以色列人之一，在采访中表达了一些非常令人钦佩的观点，非常值得一读。他特别告诉观众，本片的目的绝不是为激起更多（当然主要是对以色列一方）的仇恨，不是为了继续那个关于谁是真正的受害者的没完没了的游戏，而是关于如何克服自己的仇恨，以非暴力的建设性的方式为和平留下希望。
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Interview With Guy Davidi, “5 Broken Cameras”
POSTED BY JONATHAN ROBBINS ON 5.30.2012
In this interview published in two parts, the co-directors of 5 Broken Cameras, Israeli Guy Davidi (part one) and Palestinian Emad Burnat (part two), discuss their experience working together as activist-filmmakers in the Palestinian town of Bil'in. Both proud of the results of their collaboration and slightly dazed by the strong reception their film has received, the men were generous with their time, and eager to contextualize the events their film documents.
5 Broken Cameras screened at this year's New Directors/New Films festival. It opens today at Film Forum in NYC and in select cities soon. For more information, visit the film's Facebook page.
How did you and Emad [Burnat, co-director] come to work together?
I came to Emad's village, Bil'in in the beginning of the demonstration in 2005, quite early. I was already following what was going on in other villages. In Emad's village they began to find out that the [Israeli army] was going to take their land and they started to initiate this movement. So very fast, Israeli protesters and peace activists started to go there, and these were my friends. Well, “activists,” I like that word better. After I came to the village, we all felt that it was going to be very important. There were really strong relationships between the Israeli activists and the Palestinian villagers. And I started to do what I could, which is making films. I made four films. One of them was spread all over the world and then I made a feature-length documentary about the water issue in the West Bank. And for that film, I stayed in Bil'in for two to three months. So during this period of time, I really got to know the village from the inside, and to know emotionally what it means to live under the occupation. And it also allowed me to work on the text of 5 Broken Cameras. I had known Emad from the start. He was very important, because he was a villager who had a camera. I mean, there were hundreds of journalists from all over the world. There was even a big film made around that time. But Emad was the only one who stayed there during the week, after the demonstrators left. So, when soldiers came during the night or made arrests, he was the only one to film that.
At the time, he didn't want to make a movie. He wasn't a filmmaker, he didn't have training. But as time went on and other films were made about the village, he began to think how long he'd been filming and how much important footage he had. He thought that he should make his own film. In 2009, he approached me and said he wanted to make a film about Bil'in. Well, I think at the time he wanted to make a film about Phil and Adeeb. But I wasn't sure then. The subject was already known. The movement in Bil'in and other villages had been mediatized, so I wasn't sure we could make a new film [about the subject]. The only way we could do it, I thought, was to go through his personal experience of what happened in the village. And I discovered, as I went through his footage, that over the years he had been filming everything, including his family. [From] these images, we could create a personal story, and once Emad realized it was going to be a very new thing [showing] everything that happens in the village, and that this personal footage was necessary to make a movie, he accepted.
Would it be fair to say that much of the footage was filmed before the idea for the project began?
Yes, completely. I knew that as an Israeli, to participate with Emad, a Palestinian, on this film—I mean, I'm a filmmaker, and I have a different background from him, so it was clear to me that I would need to be empowering his voice, to put him in the film as the protagonist. Using his material was very comfortable for me. Even when we shot new scenes from 2009 on, I tried not to be present when Emad was filming. Sometimes we used other people's footage as well. For instance, Phil died, and we tried to get any footage we could of Phil. But 80% of the film is Emad's footage.
How did you fund 5 Broken Cameras?
We had great cooperation with the Greenhouse Development Project. It's a Mediterranean development project, initiated by an Israeli foundation, but it's sponsored by Europeans. So it's a European project. And the film was really formed during these sessions. Then we got European funding from French and Dutch television. And then the New Israel Fund came on, and then Israeli television came on board. And not just with money. They were really enthusiastic about it, and they contributed all along the way. And there was American and Canadian and even Asian funding.
When it came to the finished project, the editing and voice-over, would you say that was mostly your doing? And what does it mean to direct a film when you weren't around while it was being filmed?
When I first met with Emad, there were seven or eight hundred hours of footage. So we had to build a script and focus on storytelling. It wasn't easy for Emad to accept [the idea of] a personal film. But I think I was needed there, as a filmmaker—when we decided to make a personal story, it made my presence, I think, even more important. Because even the voice-overs, even the way they were written, this is from a kind of internal point of view, but it is impossible for a person to have this kind of view of himself, really, without someone from the outside analyzing it. It was very difficult for Emad to understand the way he [had grown], the way his kids [had grown], what was abnormal about the situation—these things were not clear to Emad at all. He needed me to say it and then he accept[ed] it. So I was kind of illuminating parts of his life.
In the beginning of the process, we sat on a rooftop in Bil'in and had a conversation, and out of this the text was born. I wrote it. The poetic style is a bit my way of speaking; Emad is not a talker. But Emad admits that I know things about him where he agrees [after he hears them] and says it's completely right. He needs me to have this reflection about his experience. After 2 years of me editing the film, Emad was kind of looking at the footage for the right moment. And then together we found new material, and he was shooting new stuff as well. After 2 years, I just could not do the editing by myself, and we worked together. And then we decided to do a last editing session in Paris with a French editor, which lasted a month. Her sensibilities had a tremendous influence on the film. I think the construction was already there, but she [helped with] entering into a scene and understanding the delicacy involved. And for me, it was hard, because I'm also part of the story, as an Israeli activist. It was hard to choose what information we needed [in order] to tell the story to an international audience. Her input was very important for that.
Would you give us an example of something in particular?
There was the image of an olive tree cut from the land, and I used it in the beginning of the film, but in this shot we see the houses of the settlements in the background, before we actually visit them. And Veronique said we were crazy not to clarify that the settlement was not part of the village. So these are small, but important details. Because for me it is clear what is the settlement and what is the village. If I see big white buildings, I think it's a settlement immediately.
Would you tell us about your background?
I'm 33. I started doing short films when I was 16, actually. I studied cinema in high school. I'm a writer, basically. At 13, I decided to be a novelist, but I've never written a book. Some years passed and I made some fiction films, but nothing that really got much coverage. Until my twenties, it was very hard for me to work in Israel. I felt that it was a very destructive environment, a very violent environment. Everything I tried to create there did not work—at all. I couldn't create a team or an atmosphere. I started studying cinema at the university, but quit after one year. There is a lot of aggression expressed towards the arts in Israel. I connect it completely with the political situation. We created a culture that is very tough to handle. So I left for Paris and I found time to reflect on my life, and to be able to come back to Israel much more determined and a bit more wise. So in 2002, I started to work as a cameraman in Israel, and very soon as a director. I think when I came back I wanted to go to the West Bank. I could not live in an Israel that was closed off. When I was in Paris, I was walking around the markets speaking with Arabs freely, things that for Israelis are “not permitted.” You know, 'don't speak with Arabs. You don't know what they'll do to you'. I kind of found freedom in Paris and I wanted to express it as well in Israel. And ever since then my life was connected with the West Bank.
Sometimes Paris feels like the intellectual capital of the Middle East, no? So much talk about Middle Eastern politics takes place after the cheese and salad.
Yes, exactly, very much so. It's also very violent. I have a lot of family there, Jewish family. And the Jews in France are very emotional about the conflict. And we saw what just happened in Toulouse [shooting of child and rabbi at Jewish school]. So there's also a lot of hatred from the Arab population there. What happens in Palestine and Israel gets multiplied there. It's really a pity because I found another space in Paris, [with]in my family. Where we have an Arab married to a Jew—something you can almost never find in Israel. So, I found these stories in Paris and I held onto them and that's a good thing. It's important to solve the conflict because it affects other places.
Do your Jewish relative and their Arab spouse talk politics?
Yes, very much. They argue. I think for most of the Arabs, it is very hard to understand the impact of history on the Jews; the intensity of it, and how much it enters into the soul. And for Jews as well, it's hard to understand the connection between different Arabs. Even the [very] fact that there is a kind of connection between Arabs; that when a Palestinian dies in Gaza, someone in Morocco feels it was directed at him personally, in a way. As an Israeli, I'm not a Jew in New York, so I don't identify too much. Too much identification can be dangerous. And that's what creates the problem. For example, people speaking in Egypt about how to save the Palestinians from Israelis. But, you see in our film there is not a single Arab country that contributed funds to the film. Well, that's also because of my presence. But all I'm saying is that the stance is much more important than the real relations, I think.
But I would say that in general, identification is ultimately not a good thing. But empathy is a good and strong thing. Identification is dangerous because these emotions of anger and shame and guilt, I don't think they contribute to building real relations, in most places. And this is how the film is built. We don't want people to identify with Emad and the Palestinians' story by feeling bad for the Palestinians and putting the blame on the Israelis, which is an instinctive reaction. No, I cannot control the audience, but what I try with Emad's voice is not to say, 'I'm a victim, feel sorry for me, help me,' but 'There is suffering where I live, there is injustice and this is how I handle it.' And that's it. It creates a kind of sympathy and empathy for him and the story. And not to try to stimulate more anger. The film is about confronting anger, how Emad confronts it. The whole idea of a non-violent movement is to go on with that idea even when people die around you. You have to confront your emotions and anger. This is also for the audience, for people who will blame the Israelis, or for Israeli audience members who will think I'm trying to represent Emad as the victim. I'm not doing that. It's clear that he is a victim, but he's not trying to play the victim like Israelis are also doing. We're not playing that game of who is the real victim, which is exactly what is blocking progress in the Middle East in general. So we try to erase this discussion and say that one may feel anger and many feelings, but that you should do something constructive with it.
Towards the end of the film, Emad in a voice-over says, “Healing is a challenge in life. It is the victim's sole obligation. By healing, you resist oppression.” Is he describing himself?
Yes, he's definitely a victim. We cannot hide it; it's clear. He is a victim of injustice and a harsh reality. This text is an interesting text. But I think it was written especially for Israelis and for Jews. And for Palestinians, I also think. I think Israelis and Jews are traumatized from what they've seen for many years. Theirs is not a classic hatred that we might have seen in other places in history. I mean, we're damaged and we have to grow from this damage. Emad is taking responsibility as a current victim to say that his kids have to be sane, so he must maintain a kind of normality for them. Because, if not, he will become like the Israelis. I mean, that is my interpretation. I cannot put too many words in his mouth.
You wrote the text?
Yes. It is my interpretation of him in a way. Other people in Palestine told me that. Maybe it was the character in my last film, Interrupted Streams, who told me this. This is the whole idea of the brave people doing the non-violent movement. It is difficult for Israelis and Jews to understand, or to accept, that someone who suffered so much becomes an aggressor. And they just are unwilling to confront it. There is something blocked in our humanity that we cannot understand that.
When trauma is not dealt with, then the shadows flourish and hate grows. But that is the pessimistic result of Zionism. And Zionism itself is already a racist, colonialist expression. It was a colonialist movement, there was racism to it, but the trauma was completely fresh [for the Jews]. It was the constructive movement of people yearning for a place, so not really classic colonialism.
You and Emad are coming from different backgrounds but you have many of the same goals, it seems.
I'm a filmmaker. My role is to understand the reality and the truth. That is not the role of activists. Well, I am an activist in the sense that when I see something, I act. In that sense. Not just taking the camera to tell the truth. Not just to be in my head, but to do things on the ground. But, my most important role is that of filmmaker, and that role is to open up a subject, to refresh it. This is much more important for me as a filmmaker. When I'm in Bil'in, I have my own perspective. For me the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a psychological one. A conflict between emotions; and every individual has to handle a very complex series of complications, backgrounds and history. And I think most activists are trying to find the solution on the ground. I think for most activists, they are concerned [with] solving the issues on the ground, [so that] then we can repair ourselves of trauma and histories. But to me, I think it's more simultaneous; you cannot just change things from the outside or the inside. People have to confront and analyze their ideas, histories and emotions. For Palestinians they have to confront their emotions as victims—it is very apparent to me that they are victims. I think Palestinians are suffering a great deal, so they have a lot of emotions and anger. That's a challenge they have. For the Jews—the Israelis, we have a lot to repair. We are a people of air—
Did you say “error” or “air”?
Air. The air. You know, if the Arabs are the emotion, the water, for me the Jews are the air. They were always responsible for bringing ideas from place to place. They were not a people of the land like the Palestinians. At one point, not just after the Holocaust, they started to think that living in your head is what creates all the problems for them. And that is Zionism, trying to connect to the land. And they are not very successful with it.
If we surveyed 100 Israelis of your generation, how many do you think would be thinking along the same lines as you?
You would have to take much more than 100. In 100, I'll be the only one. In 2004, I was part of a group of activists called Anarchists Against the Wall. This Israeli group was willing to go all the way into the West Bank to be with Palestinians and protect them in very tough situations. And in that time there were so many demonstrations around there. And we were 30 people going around, a very close group, protecting the Palestinians. Because our presence as Israelis was important. And now the army is never sure in a demonstration when there are Israelis there and when not. If you take 100 Israelis and ask them what they think, most of them, or maybe a big part of them, would say I'm a traitor. And some of them would say they are apolitical, or they don't want to get into it. But when you don't have an opinion, you're actually holding the mainstream opinion as your own. And several people would actually support me, but with several caveats. If you ask 1000, you will have a few people who support me completely.
Working with Emad, did you find yourselves rubbing off on one another, or were your lives too different?
For the better and worse, we have different backgrounds, ideas and privileges. I got to have an education, but Emad's was by his own hands. His training in cinema, too. Everything is completely independent. It's very inspiring the way he [has] handled his life, the way he developed during the creation of his film. And from the very beginning, he said, “Guy, I trust you. Take the footage; let's do the film.” But I think most of the time I had carte blanche to go ahead and interpret him. And I think the only important difficulty we had in the creation of the film was dealing with the most personal and intimate moments. In the beginning, it was hard for Emad to go that way. He was thinking about how he would be seen by his community for putting himself at the center of what was really a community-wide movement where everyone has their own stories to tell. And the only one who gets paid respect is the one who pays with his life. But Emad was afraid of putting himself in the center, with so many people suffering, and saying “But me too, I am suffering a lot!”. But I can imagine how he felt with Gibreel [Emad's youngest son] telling him about Phil's death, and thinking about the power of that. But he was not ready to put himself at the center. He had the luck, in a sense, that I pushed him to do it. And I had the luck to understand that it was possible. When I asked him to shoot footage with his wife in very intimate moments, he was afraid to be judged. And I think the most difficult footage was during his house arrest. That material he was hiding from me. I knew that he was arrested, and I always asked how we could make the point of his house arrest. And then after a long while he came to me and told me he had footage. [Under house arrest], he was disturbed and fragile, and he even says that at that moment he doesn't fit the image of a Palestinian hero. He was broken there and that moment was hard for him.
And then he has an accident. What exactly happened?
He was going to work on the other wide of the wall, filming the settlements. And working the land.
He is a farmer?
Yeah, when you're a villager, you always have two occupations. One is always being a farmer. And most of the people are unemployed, so they eat what they grow.
During his accident, he was driving or someone else was driving. And the land was bumpy, and he crashed. We do not say in the film that he crashed into the wall, but it's kind of a funny coincidence. And I think it's not just a coincidence. There was kind of a bad karma and bad energy all around the area.
His internal organs were damaged, he was in a coma for 20 days, and almost died. It was very serious. And he says that if he had been placed in a Palestinian hospital and not an Israeli one, he would have died. Now, he has an implant holding things together. And we see the shot with his big belly at the end with the five cameras.
If you ask Emad about these things, it's really delicate. I have to tell the truth the way the film is built, but I must be delicate with it, and for us to keep a good relationship with all that is going on. If I say that I wrote the text, yes, it is true, but I was inspired by Emad. So there is kind of an atmosphere of doing it together, and that is important for us. It's the truth, but there are moments where, not during the filmmaking but now—since there is a big success for the film—it can be hard. We managed through some hard times and now we're really good. I wrote the text, but it is an interpretation of him. I don't want it to be like the project is accounted for by task, like 'he did that and I did this'. It was something we did together over several years.
How did he get five different cameras?
The second and third he got from a French NGO. I think he got one or two from Israeli activists. And I think at one point he bought one, but the money came from an NGO.
Stay tuned for part two of our interview, in which we speak with Guy Davidi's co-director Emad Burnat...
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Interview With Emad Burnat, “5 Broken Cameras”: - 活着，最简单的解释，活着就是还没死去。然而死亡在生活里的形式多种多样，遗忘，正义公道的缺席，面对强权的无能为力，被剥夺的尊严，疾病伤痛，苦难…
影片在一片催泪弹烟雾里拉开序幕，急促游走混乱的画面里，一个声音，
… i’m losing track … so i film, to hold onto my memories.
用影像抵抗遗忘，抵抗被剥夺的一切，5 broken cameras是一个巴勒斯坦农民用摄像机书写的私人日记。它同样也记录历史，大写的持续进行中的历史教科书里没头没尾的一个名词解释——以巴冲突作为媒体宠爱的热点话题，半个多世纪来围绕它无数影像画面被制造被传播。但影像并不总是事物时空痕迹的直接记录，很多时候影像并不直指真相。在这个媒体读图时代，影像成为另一种形式的遗忘。直播报道深入分析历史回顾访谈辩论，数不清的画面将冲突日常化正常化——是个历史悲剧，因为冲突双方都有理；施暴者和受害人角色随时倒转，所以双方都是受害人。在这些令人倦怠的影像里现实被置于一边，真相被否认，被淹没。
5 broken cameras记录抵抗。抵抗是每周五村里的游行抗议，是夜半村民们赶在以军到来前在自己土地上盖建新房，是含泪的母亲揪住士兵肩膀想夺回被逮捕的儿子。抵抗也是Burnat，面对叫嚣要打断他骨头的以色列定居者，面对家门口全副武装的士兵，举起摄像机。
在这里持续不断日常影像的创作，和持续不断的抵抗融为一体。片里除了村民们面对以色列占领军，卡夫卡式的荒诞日常现实，最惊人的大概就是这些巴勒斯坦农民持续多年日常的创造性抵抗，周五的游行，歌舞相伴的游行队伍，孩子们的口号“i want to sleep !”，爱作秀的Adeeb，喜欢在以军鼻子下激昂即兴演讲的Adeeb, “is always looking for an opportunity to make a scene” ，就连他的鸡也不愿老实待在鸡巢，每天都要上树歇息在枝头。Make a scene, make a film, 抵抗不公，抵抗否认遗忘，抵抗生活里不同形式的死亡。
或大或小，拒绝死亡就是生活里点点滴滴的创造。在片里即使晦暗消沉的时刻，即使Adeeb横倒在地，冲士兵大喊kill me, i wanna die, 没有真正死的欲望，没有殉教烈士天堂里72个处女。5 broken cameras讲述活着，讲述在这个正义公道缺失的世界里，有尊严的活下去的欲望。 - 表现巴以冲突的电影实在不少，然后战争带给普通人的内心创伤却不是电影语言所能表达的，纪录片《五台破摄影机》虽然也不能完全解决这个问题，但至少提供了另一种角度：从铁丝网到混凝土墙，从催泪弹到无尽的死亡，这也许无关事与非，而是关于人性的一场真实的呈现。
导演埃梅德•伯奈特的镜头完全是自主的、朴素的。事情起源于小儿子加百利出生那周，埃梅德的土地被以色列侵占，于是他拿起摄影机开始纪录自己与邻居们的抗争。随着儿子的成长，土地逐渐被蚕食，埃梅德与邻居们为自己的权益进行暴力示威，与以方的军队发生各种冲突，即使为此付出生命也再所不惜。在五年的时间里，埃梅德的摄影机有在示威中被摔坏的，也有在冲突中被子弹打中而坏掉的，而埃梅德自己也因拍摄而被关进监狱。在影片的结局，埃梅德与邻里似乎是获得了胜利，但事实上，以方对巴方土地的侵占却并未停止，矛盾也依然存在，一切都没有解决。
对于导演埃梅德来说，《五台破相机》不仅仅是巴以冲突的缩影，更是他对生活依然存有希望的明证，这正是这部纪录片真正动人之处。 - 剪辑的不错。不过有点“事件化”，虽然是第一人称作为insider叙事，但人性和情感的深度不够..没有村庄的细节、生活、亲密伙伴的所思所想...跟新闻报道一样，被事件化了..以色列人在片子中就是士兵和侵略者的形象，单薄。但整体来说，片子还是很难得的，有历史价值。尤其喜欢片子中的橄榄的部分,很peaceful。