THE BATTLE FOR CHILE (Patricio Guzmán, 1975, 1976, 1979)
The following is one of the entries from my list of the 100 greatest films (through 2006) from Africa, Latin America & the Caribbean, which I invite you to visit on this site if you haven’t already done so. — Dennis
On-the-spot documentaries can capture the most unshakable things. Patricio Guzmán’s tripartite The Battle for Chile includes a passage in which, as soldiers fire into a crowd of Allende supporters after Pinochet’s September 11, 1973, military coup, a cameraman films his own death.
The subject of the coup occupies the middle part of Guzmán’s total work, although the first part opens with a snapshot of what after all is the central event toward which the three films thematically gravitate. Through an eclectic collage of materials, including his own footage, news footage, and television interviews of politicians and activists, Guzmán covers populist/socialist Salvador Allende’s election, the organized efforts opposing him, the idea of the coup that crystallizes, the coup and its tumultuous aftermath, including street demonstrations and Allende’s political efforts to effect his reinstatement, the aerial strikes on the presidential palace that kill Allende (“suicide” was the official pronouncement), and organized efforts to overturn Pinochet’s oppressive, murderous rule. Few films convey more powerfully the sense of a nation’s history in and out of the hands of its citizenry.
One of the emerging themes is the disconnect between Allende and his supporters, whose inspiration by their leader may not match Allende’s own political beliefs. In his last days, for example, Allende denied workers the arms that they sought in order to defend him. It is not a stretch to say, regarding the film’s mosaic in which bits and pieces continually spark connections with other bits and pieces, that the deaths of Allende and the cameraman each reflects the other and, in some sense, become one end—that of Chile. Prosaic causality yields to a national vision—a national graveyard.
Guzmán’s masterpiece, full of hope for Chile’s resurrection, honors all of Pinochet’s victims, Allende among them, but not Allende alone.
This entry was posted on November 15, 2007 at 6:57 pm and is filed under Formal Capsule Film Comments. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.
THE BATTLE FOR CHILE (Patricio Guzmán, 1975, 1976, 1979)
The following is one of the entries from my list of the 100 greatest films (through 2006) from Africa, Latin America & the Caribbean, which I invite you to visit on this site if you haven’t already done so. — Dennis
On-the-spot documentaries can capture the most unshakable things. Patricio Guzmán’s tripartite The Battle for Chile includes a passage in which, as soldiers fire into a crowd of Allende supporters after Pinochet’s September 11, 1973, military coup, a cameraman films his own death.
The subject of the coup occupies the middle part of Guzmán’s total work, although the first part opens with a snapshot of what after all is the central event toward which the three films thematically gravitate. Through an eclectic collage of materials, including his own footage, news footage, and television interviews of politicians and activists, Guzmán covers populist/socialist Salvador Allende’s election, the organized efforts opposing him, the idea of the coup that crystallizes, the coup and its tumultuous aftermath, including street demonstrations and Allende’s political efforts to effect his reinstatement, the aerial strikes on the presidential palace that kill Allende (“suicide” was the official pronouncement), and organized efforts to overturn Pinochet’s oppressive, murderous rule. Few films convey more powerfully the sense of a nation’s history in and out of the hands of its citizenry.
One of the emerging themes is the disconnect between Allende and his supporters, whose inspiration by their leader may not match Allende’s own political beliefs. In his last days, for example, Allende denied workers the arms that they sought in order to defend him. It is not a stretch to say, regarding the film’s mosaic in which bits and pieces continually spark connections with other bits and pieces, that the deaths of Allende and the cameraman each reflects the other and, in some sense, become one end—that of Chile. Prosaic causality yields to a national vision—a national graveyard.
Guzmán’s masterpiece, full of hope for Chile’s resurrection, honors all of Pinochet’s victims, Allende among them, but not Allende alone.
This entry was posted on November 15, 2007 at 6:57 pm and is filed under Formal Capsule Film Comments. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.