When ex-secretary of war, Robert
MacNamara, apologized to the
world for the war in Vietnam, and particularly for the excessive
bombing that he had ordered in
the north, he rendered an entire
ten years of American history
wasted. It was, he lamented, a
betrayal of everything we had
persuaded the world we stood for.
Ellen Kuras’ documentary The
Betrayal brilliantly exposes the human
effect of America’s betrayal through
a compelling story of one Laotian
family. But this film is so much
more than a history lesson of our
country’s hidden disgrace and the
ugly truth about the Vietnam War;
it is a universal, totally relevant and
multi-layered saga of betrayal—by
country, society, family and lovers.
How a film’s title can cover so
much territory is mind-boggling.
Beyond that, The Betrayal does what
documentaries can do best but which
few filmmakers have the courage to undertake: to lead us on a lifetime journey (23 years) and show history
as families experience it.
Films are storytelling in a medium
that is visual by nature, and Ellen,
an exquisite cameraperson, never
disappoints us. Her visual poetry
is stunning. The camera moves carefully and meaningfully through
the story’s long arc. An ancient
Laotian legend of the coming of the
Eagle of Destruction paired with a
timeless opening scene of children riding the backs of great horned
cattle rendered compliant by the
swirling muddy river in which they
are all engulfed makes us wonder if
the characters will be caught up like this in a rush of history over which
they seem to have little control,
or will they be like these fearless
children using the skills that nature
has given them. The startling and
memorable face of the protagonist,
Thavisouk, is so lovingly caught as
his story unfolds that we know right
off that we will recognize everyone
in this film as if they were our own
family. And how many filmmakers
would dare to tell the climax of the
story with only pictures and music
and end up with a scene full of such
humanity we want to weep? Howard
Shore’s music is a gift that most
documentary filmmakers can only
dream of.
The plot of The Betrayal has the
suspense that fiction films crave— escape, reunion, betrayal, death,
love. Its themes are universal: fear
of abandonment, unfulfilled father/son expectations, teenage rebellion,
parental rejection, a mother’s
undying love. But most importantly,
the family’s story demonstrates the unbelievable capacity we have to
survive throughout the ebb and flow
of life. There were times we found
ourselves aching with their grief
because we understood its causes so
exactly. Such themes have no cultural
boundary.
You cannot have a film about
betrayal without it also being a film
about deep love. Love of homeland
is beautifully conveyed, as is the love
of family. But it’s the bond between
Ellen and her subject Thavi that is for
us, as filmmakers, the most unique
and moving. Thavi’s story truly becomes his story because with time
he also becomes the film’s author,
co-directing, shooting and editing
with Ellen. In this visual art form,
that began with photography’s evil
reputation for ‘stealing the soul of its
subject,’ Ellen’s final magnanimous
collaboration with Thavi felt so right. There was no betrayal here.
In the end, Ellen has given Thavi a
gift—the tools to tell his own tale.
And that is true love.
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D.A. Pennebaker and Chris Hegedus have been making films together for over thirty years. Don't Look Back
featuring Bob Dylan was one of the first documentaries to screen in theaters. Their film The War Room,
following Bill Clinton’s presidential campaign, was nominated for an Academy Award.
