War Photography: Movie vs Reality

Via The Real Frame: War Photography on Screen - The Real Frame

May 21, 2024 by David Butow David Butow –

As if the political tension in the United States couldn’t get any higher, this spring a new movie depicting a full-scale, near-future civil war in the country is filling theaters and drawing good reviews. The film, “Civil War”, directed by Englishman Alex Garland, (“The Beach”, “Ex Machina”), imagines that the country is ruled by a quasi-dictator serving his third term as president. The opposing side is comprised of a well-organized and equipped army of rebels (called the “Western Alliance”), that is on the move to Washington, D.C. to remove him from power.

The main point of the movie is, I think, to force audiences to confront the possibility, however remote, that something like this could actually happen. The U.S., despite illusions of “exceptionalism,” is fundamentally no different from any other empire that can break down and/or break apart. This is big stuff, but the POV of this terrible scenario is told through the narrow experiences of a group of four journalists, principally two still photographers played by Kirsten Dunst and Cailee Spaeny.

It’s rare that photojournalists are the main protagonists in a film, they’re usually quirky side characters like Dennis Hopper’s idiosyncratic portrayal of a half-crazed Vietnam War photographer in “Apocalypse Now.” But putting them in the center of the plot requires detail of their working habits, and more importantly, into the emotional and ethical challenges they face as they make their way through one violent situation after another. The whole raison d’être of them being there is questioned. Are they after the thrill or some greater good? What is the role of journalistic observers in conflict? I can’t say those questions are deeply examined but they are certainly put up on the metaphorical blackboard (or video projector if you prefer).

If you haven’t seen the film but might go, be aware there is a lot of violence depicted, sometimes rather realistically and without the heavy music and other mood overlays we’re used to in Hollywood movies. I found this starkness jarring, but effective. Another thing I thought the film did rather well was show how quickly things can happen, often when you’re not expecting them, and also how chaos and semi-normalcy can exist in proximities much closer than you might expect.

Conversely, I thought there were some things about the journalists the filmmakers definitely got wrong, but how many movies have I seen where the main characters are lawyers, doctors, cops or soldiers? I imagine that people in those professions, who are used to being depicted on screen, don’t usually overanalyze every misleading detail. But the photojournalistic community, never shy about taking itself seriously, and with a rare spotlight on its profession, has had a lot to say about “Civil War.”

The best commentary I’ve seen is in the video here. It features a thoughtful interview with photojournalists Lynsey Addario, Peter van Agmatel, Ron Haviv and John Moore. These four have about as much experience covering conflicts as any photographers working today, and they are all highly intelligent and deeply reflective about those experiences. In addition, the photographer Mohamed El Masri, speaking with the assistance of a translator, describes the specific danger and challenges with covering the war in Gaza.

They’ll tell you what they thought of the movie, but more important, how they think about the role of the press, and what it is really like to witness, record and communicate terrible acts of violence.

The haunting power of old photographs

More than just forgotten light ... Confederate soldiers as they fell near the Burnside bridge, Maryland, in 1862. Photograph: Matthew Brady/Alexander Gardner

Via The Guardian

Johnathan Jones on Art

The haunting power of old photographs

Really look at a photograph of the American civil war and you can be swept on a hallucinatory journey to the heart of a battle

Old photographs have a compelling power. I am talking about really old photographs, from the early days of the medium in the 19th century. Here is light from more than a hundred years ago caught by a camera; here are the faces of the long dead as they really were: the face of Charles Baudelaire, the face of Oscar Wilde.

But how much meaning can a photograph hold? How much depth is there in these flat renderings of silver and black that happened to be caught on ancient chemically prepared plates and preserved? Inexhaustible meaning and daunting depth, it turns out, when you know how to look and how to show these historic pictures.

I recently saw, for the first time, Ken Burns's documentary series The American Civil War. It is well known that the American civil war was one of the first wars to be recorded by photographers. Matthew Brady and other photographers followed the armies in wagons that contained their hefty equipment. They photographed the aftermath of slaughter, the twisted bodies lying in fields.

But it takes Burns's extraordinary eye and technical mastery to reveal all that photography can show of the horrific war that ended slavery in America. For one thing, the sheer range of photographs that Burns discovered in the archives defies belief. Thousands of images have been lost, yet he seems to find records of every place, skirmish and character. It is eerie to watch what comes to feel like a contemporary film of the war, a live newsreel of events from long ago. But the reason it is so haunting is that Burns does not just passively film the images, he digs into them, excavates their secrets.

In one visual coup, the film tells us that future general Ulysses S Grant worked in the family store before the war. Impressively, we are shown a photograph of the Grant family business at the time. But then Burns closes in on a detail: a man standing outside, the image enlarged to reveal that we are seeing Grant himself, hanging about in the days when he was a nobody.

The civil war is full of jaw-dropping images. It becomes hallucinatory, a deathly journey into the heart of the battle: you are there. Photographs, this film revealed to me, are not cold relics of forgotten light; they are landscapes that you can explore as if they were three-dimensional spaces. The civil war is still happening, and will continue to happen for as long as these shadowy imprints survive. This is also true of the pictures of our own time. A photograph is a world frozen, that imagination can warm into life.