Loin du Vietnam (1967)
Chris Marker supervised this collaborative documentary, Far from Vietnam. Contributors include Jean-Luc Godard, Agnes Varda, Alain Resnais, Joris Ivens, Marker, William Klein, and Claude Lelouch. It's a French take on intervention into the affairs of a place formerly ruled by France, but now--in 1967--invaded by and bombed by the United States of America, with President Lyndon Johnson and Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara in the role of imperialist aggressors and, honestly, war criminals responsible for millions of deaths.
That no nations oppose the U.S. militarily on its own territory means it can get away with the daily commission of crimes against humanity and frequent United Nations resolution violations, even as American politicians and news media personalities crow about their country's unparalleled greatness as it pretends to promote democracy worldwide.
Evidence that these beliefs constitute a lie can be seen in every U.S. intervention, every regime change war. Aggressive and murderous criminal behavior and acts by a powerful nation against smaller and poorer nations like Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Lebanon, Granada, Panama, Iraq, Afghanistan, Somalia, Yemen, Pakistan, Libya, Syria, Iran, Venezuela, constitute an ever unfolding indictment against the leaders and foreign policy of a nation obviously bent on world domination. The war in Southeast Asia, heating up in 1964 to final abandonment of the area in 1975, represents a model of how a small, steady, determined guerrilla resistance can wear down and defeat a technologically superior massively destructive power.
The film's sequences, strung together without identifying the directors of each--except the Godard segment, obviously his in that he appears in it--play with the idea of distance from the place being discussed throughout. Only Joris Ivens went to North Vietnam for his segment, a piece focusing on the making of individual air raid shelters, concrete barrels sunk into the sidewalks. Hanoi, like much of North Vietnam, was bombed a great deal during the war. The staggering amount of ordinance coming from the bellies of B-52s points to the psychopathic personalities of those powerful men (many of them Democrats) running the war--also to the monetary gain for weapons manufacturers, a real problem in our time as well. Every missile shot, every bomb dropped, requires a replacement; thus, very nicely dressed wealthy women and men with overarching influence on politicians and the news media benefit from murdering people far over the horizon.
The film shows protests in New York, early anti-war movement activity. There's a carnival atmosphere to sign-holders, face painters, street performance on the subject of napalm, the jeering pro-war citizens on the sidelines, some of them chanting, "Bomb Hanoi! Bomb Hanoi!" As they cheer for something their government is doing already, should they be pleased that ordinary people minding their own business in Asia are getting ripped to pieces while Wall Street profits?
That the movie goes on a bit too long, having made its point well before it ends, is my main criticism. Alain Resnais's sequence of an intellectual in his apartment going on for quite a while about his own inadequacies to fight against injustice is most interesting for the silent dark-haired woman (Karen Blanguernon) listening to him, reclined on his bed. Otherwise, it's a bit maddening, waiting for her to make a remark as he goes over his position. He knows of the horror of Vietnam, but feels helpless to do anything constructive. This comes, too, from a citizen of a country that had fucked with Vietnam in the 1950s and then fucked with Algeria from 1957 to 1962.
I remember Errol Morris's The Fog of War (2003), his interview with Robert McNamara--himself responsible for the mass murder of millions of people. The term, "fog of war," has been used many times by pundits and politicians in the U.S. during our War on Terror, commencing from the 9/11 attacks. McNamara uses it in Morris's film, implying a lack of certitude in knowing what is right and what is wrong in war. He says, "How much evil must we do to do good?"
The answer is obvious: None.
McNamara had to get an MBA from Harvard to learn how to be a complete fucking idiot, using math and science to find the right formula for annihilation.
Loin du Vietnam begins and ends with bombs being loaded from a supply ship onto the USS Kitty Hawk. In packages of six, the weapons hang suspended on wires, swinging about on their way to the aircraft carrier. This loading happens every morning; the ship is busy as it moves through the waters of the Gulf of Tonkin, site of the lie that served Lyndon Johnson as a pretext to begin the war's hot stages.
The most sickening thing about this movie is how the U.S. is still so committed to killing people, while acting innocent. Loin du Vietnam reminds us of the necessity for more anti-war voices in America, for an anti-war movement, for anti-war candidates like Tulsi Gabbard, for an end to the false glorification of a domineering militaristic philosophy.
Vic Neptune
Chris Marker supervised this collaborative documentary, Far from Vietnam. Contributors include Jean-Luc Godard, Agnes Varda, Alain Resnais, Joris Ivens, Marker, William Klein, and Claude Lelouch. It's a French take on intervention into the affairs of a place formerly ruled by France, but now--in 1967--invaded by and bombed by the United States of America, with President Lyndon Johnson and Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara in the role of imperialist aggressors and, honestly, war criminals responsible for millions of deaths.
That no nations oppose the U.S. militarily on its own territory means it can get away with the daily commission of crimes against humanity and frequent United Nations resolution violations, even as American politicians and news media personalities crow about their country's unparalleled greatness as it pretends to promote democracy worldwide.
Evidence that these beliefs constitute a lie can be seen in every U.S. intervention, every regime change war. Aggressive and murderous criminal behavior and acts by a powerful nation against smaller and poorer nations like Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Lebanon, Granada, Panama, Iraq, Afghanistan, Somalia, Yemen, Pakistan, Libya, Syria, Iran, Venezuela, constitute an ever unfolding indictment against the leaders and foreign policy of a nation obviously bent on world domination. The war in Southeast Asia, heating up in 1964 to final abandonment of the area in 1975, represents a model of how a small, steady, determined guerrilla resistance can wear down and defeat a technologically superior massively destructive power.
The film's sequences, strung together without identifying the directors of each--except the Godard segment, obviously his in that he appears in it--play with the idea of distance from the place being discussed throughout. Only Joris Ivens went to North Vietnam for his segment, a piece focusing on the making of individual air raid shelters, concrete barrels sunk into the sidewalks. Hanoi, like much of North Vietnam, was bombed a great deal during the war. The staggering amount of ordinance coming from the bellies of B-52s points to the psychopathic personalities of those powerful men (many of them Democrats) running the war--also to the monetary gain for weapons manufacturers, a real problem in our time as well. Every missile shot, every bomb dropped, requires a replacement; thus, very nicely dressed wealthy women and men with overarching influence on politicians and the news media benefit from murdering people far over the horizon.
The film shows protests in New York, early anti-war movement activity. There's a carnival atmosphere to sign-holders, face painters, street performance on the subject of napalm, the jeering pro-war citizens on the sidelines, some of them chanting, "Bomb Hanoi! Bomb Hanoi!" As they cheer for something their government is doing already, should they be pleased that ordinary people minding their own business in Asia are getting ripped to pieces while Wall Street profits?
That the movie goes on a bit too long, having made its point well before it ends, is my main criticism. Alain Resnais's sequence of an intellectual in his apartment going on for quite a while about his own inadequacies to fight against injustice is most interesting for the silent dark-haired woman (Karen Blanguernon) listening to him, reclined on his bed. Otherwise, it's a bit maddening, waiting for her to make a remark as he goes over his position. He knows of the horror of Vietnam, but feels helpless to do anything constructive. This comes, too, from a citizen of a country that had fucked with Vietnam in the 1950s and then fucked with Algeria from 1957 to 1962.
I remember Errol Morris's The Fog of War (2003), his interview with Robert McNamara--himself responsible for the mass murder of millions of people. The term, "fog of war," has been used many times by pundits and politicians in the U.S. during our War on Terror, commencing from the 9/11 attacks. McNamara uses it in Morris's film, implying a lack of certitude in knowing what is right and what is wrong in war. He says, "How much evil must we do to do good?"
The answer is obvious: None.
McNamara had to get an MBA from Harvard to learn how to be a complete fucking idiot, using math and science to find the right formula for annihilation.
Loin du Vietnam begins and ends with bombs being loaded from a supply ship onto the USS Kitty Hawk. In packages of six, the weapons hang suspended on wires, swinging about on their way to the aircraft carrier. This loading happens every morning; the ship is busy as it moves through the waters of the Gulf of Tonkin, site of the lie that served Lyndon Johnson as a pretext to begin the war's hot stages.
The most sickening thing about this movie is how the U.S. is still so committed to killing people, while acting innocent. Loin du Vietnam reminds us of the necessity for more anti-war voices in America, for an anti-war movement, for anti-war candidates like Tulsi Gabbard, for an end to the false glorification of a domineering militaristic philosophy.
Vic Neptune
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