As the lights came on after Here For Life (2019) last week, a wash of cast (more, subjects or protagonists, as the film’s a documentary) and crew took to the stage to partake in a mass Q&A. What fascinated me most throughout this was how the film clearly meant very different things for its three lead subjects, Errol, Mwiinga and Patrick, they answered their questions in hugely different tones, holding vastly different expressions on their faces, presenting the film as three radically different personal experiences. As they all play, or simply are, themselves in the film they not only perform a version of themselves, but as they watch it back are exposed to that mediation of those selves. Let’s explore these one by one, revealing a few different ways film, and the process of filming, becomes a way to understand oneself.
As a whole, the film follows Errol, Mwiinga and Patrick amongst others, who live in the lower rungs of society, struggling for a living and fitting in—often scraping with the edges of legality in their past. However brought together in a communal space, they share their greatest highs and lows, sharing their memories with us through the screen.
The most remarkably revealing of all of these, for me, was Patrick. A born and bread East Londoner endlessly affiliated with organised crime in the area. He reveals himself like no other, sharing deeply distressed memories from his parents dying, betrayals by friends, and regrets of the repercussions of his crimes. After the screening, as he sat on the stage for the Q&A, he remained remarkably distant, quiet. When passed the microphone he was lost for words, seeming to be reflecting on the self he had seen and only being able to articulate his gratitude for the filmmakers giving him the space to explore himself on camera. As the oldest, at least in his 60s, Patrick seemed to use the experience as a kind of summing up of his lively years—presenting it with pride and shame alike, often through a complex amalgam of the two. Yet a warmth emanated from him. Through this process it seemed as if he had some closure for all his complicated memories, a space to recount these often dark stories without being directly judged. This vulnerability, perhaps not ever fully experienced in another space, reminded me of how revealing the camera is. Not necessarily revealing of the truth, but in creating a vulnerability which incites the deep dive into oneself—forcing an articulation of thoughts and feelings that are often kept in the mind alone. This act of articulation, by subject or creative, is often the site of incredible self-discovery or understanding—especially when protracted over months or years—as one is endlessly exposed to the same recorded stimulus forcing the endless consideration and reconsideration of its contents. As Patrick sat at the front, relatively withdrawn and in his own space, I saw a face deep in thought. Perhaps again reconsidering how this process had changed his thoughts on himself and his past.
Almost conversely, Errol sat at the front completely energised. Willing to chime in on any and all questions, giving by far the most feedback to the audience. He discussed his original conception of the film, after being approached by the filmmakers to be a part of the film. He had envisioned being some kind of hero at the centre of attention, obviously a type reinforced by the predominant form of cinema. Although he is certainly not that in the film, being presented plainly as himself—again delivering some thoughts on his life, past and present—his action on the stage reflected this ideal of the cinematic hero. Everything was there; the boosted ego, the endless acknowledgement of having been seen by everyone and the feeling of celebrity. Of course, on many levels these feelings come from a logical place as, yes, we just watched his face on a huge screen, and he presented (in the film) himself at his best, offering up performances of spoken word and dominating social spaces. This, as becomes immediately clear, heavily contrasts Patrick’s reflective, revealing and vulnerable place on screen. Thus their satisfaction came from almost opposing poles; where Patrick was satisfied by delving into and questioning himself and his past, Errol was pleased to present his improved “new me” to the world—self-confident in himself and of his portrayal.* In many ways Errol, through the screen and his answers, was simply elated by the fact people were looking at him and engaging with him as an attraction worthy of a crowd. This was only furthered by his insistence to perform a short spoken word, in person, after the questions.
Different again, Mwiinga sat relatively unfazed both on the screen and stage. It seemed as if she didn’t utilise the camera for any function, not to reveal herself like Patrick or to become a performer like Errol. She simply seemed to be an authentic self, revealing little parts of herself but without clear intent for those memories to be reflected on or reconsidered. On stage she even quipped, when the process was described as reflective by another, that it “wasn’t like that for me”. In many ways her indifference to the eyes that had seen her, and the camera that was pointed at her, was the most refreshing. She hadn’t utilised the camera as a functional object—she didn’t have a preconceived goal to reach through the process. And perhaps through this she had, internally, gained the most from the process by revealing her truth and then being able to reconsider her true, natural self as she watched it back. Or perhaps I’m being too optimistic, and it’s a sign she gained nothing at all from the process, as there was no process of taking film, or filmed moment, as exceptional. Perhaps she was herself and simply saw her past actions as matter of fact. Either way, the way she didn’t take the appearance of her body on the big screen as a signal of inflated importance was a breath of fresh air, and something I think all of us in the creative industries should remember.
In sum, just below the surface Here For Life—but more specifically the Q&A—asks the question what does it mean to be on the screen? Is it a space to become vulnerable and see oneself, and one’s problems, in a new light? Is it a place where the bodies which emerge gain importance, and are supposed to perform for those who watch? Or is it really just a space like any other, presenting life as it is, holding no inflated importance at all? Of course, it can be any and all of these given the content and form. Which of these embodies cinema, or more specifically documentary, for you?
For me Partick’s understanding rung true for a number of my more recent film projects which deal with more personal topics. But, even when diverging from the personal the process of filming, for me, remains most rewarding when it is one of discovering new and reframing dusty old knowledge of the world.
Here For Life (2019)
0/2/0
2/13
*This is referencing the theme of Errol’s spoken word piece centring on the idea of a new me being better than the old me.