In the world of filmmaking, reality is often distorted beyond recognition. And so, for truth, we turn to documentaries. This can be a dangerous move, considering the “spin factor” of last year’s Fahrenheit 9/11 and the embarrassing response, FahrenHYPE 9/11. But with films like Born into Brothels, the genre’s integrity is still being upheld.
The opening moments of the film wind through the alleys of Calcutta’s red light district, taking in the images. Shot entirely through a red filter, it’s an interesting m?lange of angle and speed changes, freeze frames and blurring. But symbolically, the picture we are left with is bleak, grimy and seedy. For countless women who “work the line” and their children, this is home.
When photojournalist and filmmaker Zana Briski came to Calcutta in 1997, her goal was to study and capture through photography the lives of prostitutes. She found the task more difficult than she had anticipated. In a country where prostitutes live outside the law, she was strange and foreign, and her intentions were suspect. Fascinated by her camera, though, one group of people did embrace her: the children.
And thus began the personal project of Briski and co-director Ross Kauffman-to give the children cameras, photography lessons and the hope of a future. Their project succeeded remarkably. With subject matter so prurient and so delicate, it would be tempting for the filmmakers to hide in alleyways in order to capture candid footage of the sordid events. They resist, however, and with taste and foresight choose instead to focus on the more touching details of the children’s lives, and the beautiful photos they take.
Indeed, the most compelling aspect of the film is the children themselves. A talented and lively group of eight, their observations and insights provide us with the most intimate and unique details of life inside the brothels. Their remarks are hardly those of the average child, but rather reflect a maturity, sensibility and wisdom well beyond their years. That is not to say they don’t have fun; often the best photos came from a silly day at the beach, the zoo or even a teasing hand in front of the lens.
One of the most moving scenes in the film takes place on a bus after a day at the beach. In a beautiful and eerie moment, the focus blurs and the shade turns red. In slow-motion, the girls dance in their saris, rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the bus while a haunting Hindi chant foreshadows their return to the oppression of the district.
It is this oppression from which Briski seeks to save the children. Through gallery exhibits, a photography seminar in Holland for one lucky boy, medical exams and, most importantly, schooling, these children are offered a once in a lifetime opportunity to escape the squalor. It is interesting to note that in the film, Briski claims that she is only a photographer, not a social worker, and there is only so much she can do.
Perhaps she is being modest, or perhaps she didn’t realize the impact this film would have on its viewers. The organization that developed out of her vision, Kids with Cameras, is now international in scope, serving children in Haiti, Jerusalem, Cairo and, of course, Calcutta. The film itself has also won 27 major film festival awards, and is nominated for Best Documentary for the 77th Academy Awards, an honor it clearly deserves.
While critics made note of the ongoing problems of the Calcutta brothels, this project offers no promises for a happy ending. It is an honest and humble film, aware of the limited ability we all have to change the world around us, while avoiding using this as an excuse for inaction. This may be the movie’s greatest lesson: no matter how few can be saved, the process of trying is vital.
