Although an ambitious project, Brother Number One successfully portrays a gripping narrative on the victims of the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia and raises unsettling questions on justice and catharsis
The French often referred to Cambodia as the ‘pearl of Asia’, due to its overwhelming beauty. Between 1975 and 1979 however, the Khmer Rouge inflicted one of the gravest genocides in modern history upon the people of Cambodia. In Pol Pot’s scheme for an agrarian utopia, two million Cambodians were starved, worked, or simply beaten to death. During this period one particular ‘security’ facility, infamously known as prison S-21, represented the face of Pol Pot’s regime. Serving as a detention centre, over 20,000 individuals entered the prison during the years of the Khmer Rouge –only a handful ever walked out alive.
Brother Number One charts the story of Rob Hamill whose brother, Kerry, was tortured and executed at the hands of the Khmer Rouge in prison S-21. Although Rob’s quest for answers concerning his brother’s death forms the central concern of the movie, it is also a wider meditation on the trauma of genocide, as viewed through the tribulations of one particular individual and his family.
During a ‘hippie trail’ voyage in the late 70s, the Khmer Rouge authorities intercepted Kerry’s boat and he was transferred to prison S-21 for interrogation. What happened to Kerry when he arrived, and the manner in which he met his end, are important questions Rob must come to terms with, taking him into the heart of Khmer atrocities.
In an unusual perspective for a documentary, the war crimes tribunal, ongoing since 2010, is a significant focus in itself. Through the ‘Civil Parties’ framework at the trial, victims as well as families of victims are permitted to directly confront the accused in court. Rob is invited, as the only Westerner, to address the court in the trial of Kaing Guek Eav, known as Comrade Duch, who presided over prison S-21 when his brother was killed.
The film deserves credit for never losing sight of the Cambodians who suffered at the hands of the Khmer Rouge. In his own meditations upon his brother’s fate, Rob is confronted by equally harrowing stories from other victims and survivors. These contrast powerfully in Rob’s encounters with individuals intimately connected with his brother’s story: the navy commander in charge when his brother’s boat was intercepted, declaring that ‘Pol Pot was good’; the official cameraman at prison S-21, averting his gaze during the atrocities; as well as an interrogator at the prison.
The cumulative vantage points make it difficult at times to absorb the full range of what the documentary is trying to achieve. In its sudden shifts from the 1970s to the present, back to interviews with victims as well as perpetrators, Brother Number One is ambitious in its cinematography. It is utilised extremely effectively however, as the documentary cleverly works through different lenses to present a unity between the events of the 1970s and the present day. The grainy footage of the 1970s is juxtaposed against live, grainy footage of the war crimes tribunal in 2010. Similarly, at times the trial is viewed through more than one lens; instead of a direct camera stream of events, the camera rotates to present the trial through the live images of a TV, or a computer screen. These all serve to make a link between the immediacy of the trial, and the continuity of Rob’s anguish since the 1970s.
Ultimately the documentary achieves in posing unsettling questions. As Comrade Duch attempts to convince us of his genuine remorse and forgiveness, Rob’s story culminates in asking deep questions about the nature of humanity. Is it possible to forgive in the face of incalculable anger?
Image from: http://roxboroghreport.blogspot.com/2012/03/brother-number-one-rob-hamills-search.html