Film Sequence Blog (The Killing Fields)

The sequence I chose is from 23:44-27:20. It starts off with Pran waking Sydney up, bringing him coffee and a telegraph. The article Sydney and Pran wrote about the accidental bombings was on the first page of The New York Times. The director utilizes low-key lighting for this scene: Pran approaches Sydney with his wife’s concerns. While Sydney makes light of the subject, Pran’s face shows his worry, but he says nothing about his own opinions. Pran stoicism shows his deep loyalty to Sydney; he would never abandon him. As they talk about what the future may bring, the camera zooms into close-ups on their faces and racking focus; when Sydney speaks, the part of Pran’s face in the shot is out of focus, but when Pran starts to speak the focus switches to him and Sydney is then out of focus. This scene shows the close connection between the characters; Pran enters Sydney’s room to wake him up and remind shim “not to go back to sleep” as he leaves Sydney to prepare for the day. The two men are equals in this shadowy room with sparse décor. When Sydney learns of the story’s prominence in the newspaper, he says, “we must be doing something right”.
The sequence continues from the dark, quiet, private indoor setting to a chaotic outdoor setting through a sound bridge. Sydney talks about the Khmer Rouge’s advancement, but he is not yet in the camera shot; we see their jeep driving through the smoky city as fires rage. Sydney curses as he talks about how American involvement has caused suffering for Cambodians. This emphasizes the fault Sydney finds with American policies, as does the wide-angle lens that allows the viewer to see the many refugees filing into the city, fleeing from the insurgents. As they drive through the green countryside, a young soldier with pink flowers in his machine gun asks Sydney about American cars. He is depicted as an innocent boy; the close up on his face when Pran gives him a Mercedes symbol reveals his gleeful expression. When they reach the base, machine gun-wielding soldiers run past carts pulled by oxen and the soldiers are using a Coca-Cola factory for a war base; the conflicting interests of both the West and the East are evident in this sequence. An American soldier embraces a Cambodian soldier and their voices continue as the camera jumps around (off-screen sound) to different happenings; a wounded soldier smoking a cigarette, soldiers roasting a stray dog to eat, racks and racks of Coca-Cola bottle. The Cambodian soldier switches from his native tongue to English when he asks the soldier “Are we winning?” The director uses shallow focus to highlight Pran’s nervous facial expression; his worry from the earlier scene has carried over to this exchange. The camera then brings Sydney back to focus (racking focus) in a medium close up of the two men; they exchange concerned looks. Their close bond is reflected here; the men are reading each other’s thoughts. In more off-screen sound manipulation, the soldiers are discussing defensive plans when a bomb hits the factory.

Response to the film, The Killing Fields

Watching The Killing Fields, I was struck me by the subtle references to America. Interwoven throughout the film, these references hint at the horrid consequences of the Western involvement in Cambodia. When Sydney and Pran investigate Neak Luong in 1973 after a B-52 accidentally dropped 20-plus bombs on the refugee packed city, the camera scans the scene of wounded refugees and soldiers as a soldier listens to “Band on the Run” by Paul McCartney on a radio. In the midst of all this destruction and suffering, Western pop culture reminds the viewer of just who is responsible for this mess. Another example is the Coca-Cola factory being used as a military base for wounded Cambodian soldiers; bloody soldiers are outstretched on and propped up against crates of Coke bottles. When the American embassy evacuates Cambodia, the helicopters fly into the smoke-filled sky as a soldier takes down the American flag. As the capital falls to the Khmer Rouge, a French man at the embassy utters wistfully, “Adieu l’ancienne regime”: goodbye to the West, goodbye to the old, beautiful, gentle Cambodia. Throughout the film, the West is associated with death and danger: after the insurgents take over, any Cambodian who knows English and French is at risk of execution. Pran is constantly tested to see if he will respond to French commands or English questions. The comrades ask the group in English that those who were once doctors, professors, and other middle-class professions to confess and be forgiven by “Ungar”. Those who confess are embraced in front of the group, but executed under the cover of darkness.
The effects that most resonated with me when viewing this film were sound effects. Sydney listens to heartbreaking opera music when he misses Pran and watches coverage of Cambodia on the TV after he returns to America. The music is dramatic when Pran must decide to stay in Cambodia or leave with his family, suspenseful when he is trying to escape the killing fields. Children constantly scream and cry when Sydney and Pran hunt down war stories but when the mass exodus begins and we see Pran in the killing fields, there is only silence. No screaming children, no crying victims. Pran remarks that the best way to survive is to stay silent. The only noise is from the insurgent leaders who use loudspeakers to propagate the new government and convince the Cambdians of memory disease and the death of God.

Sydney Schanberg's articles for the NYTimes

Reading these articles, I find it very interesting that we hear only one journalist’s opinions and thoughts. Obviously Cambodia was not a safe place for anyone, let alone an American, to be in, and Sydney H. Schanberg was very brave to stay past the American evacuation. He offers us a unique look into what was really going on; it took years for Congress to realize that American troops were bombing Cambodia and another year for Congress to realize that Secretary of State Henry Kissinger ignored a Cambodian plea for peace negotiations, but Schanberg reports on real time happenings in the remaining “Lol Non Cambodia” and gives voice to the Cambodian refugees. However, his bias does shine through even in his more news-y stories. He employs pathos frequently, in particular with his titles and pictures, and states his opinion as fact, especially when he talks about the opinions of the Cambodian people or Cambodia stationed diplomats in regards to the apparent failings of the American government. Sometimes he seems completely against the American involvement in Cambodia, but at other times he does agree that there seems to be no right plan of action; along with the diplomats, maybe he too believes “we got them into this mess we can’t abandon them now” (Apr 10). So many of his articles cited the interminable waiting game the people of Neak Luong or Phnom Penh were forced to play. For five years, the insurgents slowly took more and more land, and the people were forced to flee inward, leaving their homes and lands in the countryside for the protection of the city. The government lost supply route after supply route as the number of people needing food, water and medical supplies increased. The country was basically starved to death, and the citizens were so used to it that they didn’t even flinch when a headless body of an insurgent floated down the river! While Schanberg does try to give us insight to how the people really felt, I think reading the Killing Fields will be a more accurate depiction of Cambodian sentiments.

Twilight Production starring Anna Deavere Smith

I assumed the video would not be that different from the book, but if I thought I understood different perspectives in the book, it was nothing compared to the production. Smith’s portrayal of so many different characters was beyond impressive. She switches from a female Beverly Hills real estate agent to a male Mexican victim of police brutality seamlessly. Each character has a unique way of speaking, of expressing emotion, of being. Smith somehow makes every character unique and different, even though she is the only actress in the whole production. Some characters, like Angela King and Charles Lloyd, were nothing like I thought they would be. However, I didn’t mind losing the fantastical image I had developed, because her interpretation was so rich and vivid.
The way she wove the other clips and the music and the footage into the narrative added a lot of drama to the story. For example, in the Josie Morales segment, the music came in right as Josie started talking about her dream. In her dream, the officers were acquitted. She emphasizes that she wasn’t thinking that the officers would be acquitted, that it was never something that occurred to her consciously. She insinuates that an acquittal, the result that in fact becomes truth, was so absurd as to be only possible in a dream. This is emphasized by the eerie, mystical music in the background.
Another especially interesting part of the production was when Smith interweaves Chief Gates’ interview with Mrs. June Park’s interview. Smith juxtaposes Mrs. June Park’s interview, her angry, hopeless wonderings about her husband’s death and musings on how he was well-known for giving money to the community and working with the police, with Chief Gates’ interview and his attempts to defend his actions as the riots were starting up. It makes for a very interesting experience. In reading Gates’ interview I felt some sympathy for him, but next to Mrs. June Park’s heartbreak and despair, any sympathy I had for him disappeared.

Twilight by Anna Deavere Smith

In her introduction, Anna Deavere Smith writes, “This book is first and foremost a document of what an actress heard in Los Angeles” (xxiv). In her interviews, she seeks out many different responses to the riots. Smith believes “words are not an end in themselves,” rather, words are “a means to evoking the character of the person who spoke them” (xxiii-xxiv). Something I noticed is that in each of the interviews, the person’s voice shines through their words, whether it is the diction used, the stutters, the snaps, the repetition, or the hand slaps. Their personality is evident in what they are saying. By acknowledging the voice of these people, Smith gives their emotions, their experiences worth and meaning. Like Lou Cannon, Smith recognizes that there are many sides to every story. There is no one voice that Smith feels sums up the experience; all the responses are equally important because they are genuine and real. Just as no one factor caused the riots, no one person’s reaction is “right” or “best”. One example of this is in Chief Gates’s interview. In the news coverage of Gates in The New York Times articles we read, Gates gives only terse, one-word answers. Smith, however, allows him the chance to speak eloquently and passionately. Though Cannon points out that Gates mishandled the riots and was by no means infallible, Gates resents becoming the scapegoat. He defies the media’s representation of him: “Who told you this? What gave you this idea? You don’t know me. You don’t have any idea what I’ve done” (185-6). Gates argues that he was once the “most popular Republican in Los Angeles and Los Angeles County” and then suddenly he was the national symbol of police oppression (186). At the time of the Rodney King beating he was in Washington, DC receiving recognition for his forty-three years of civic service. The president declared him “a national hero” one day, and the next he is vilified across the country (187). In his response, his passion, biases, and motivations are laid bare, and it is much easier for me to understand how and why he made the decisions he did at the time.