Rethinking Documentary Film: The Juxtapositon of Animated Documentary Rebutted

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Rethinking Documentary Film: The Juxtapositon of Animated Documentary Rebutted

Stefan Joppe 2018

University of Amsterdam MA Thesis Film Studies

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i. Preface

This thesis is written as the final project of the Film Studies Master program at the University of Amsterdam. It was started early 2018 and finished June of the same year. The subject of the thesis, animated documentary, came to my interest during a number of classes and seminars that I have taken through my years as a Bachelor student, studying Media and Culture and even more so during the Master program. It was especially during an elective course in my Bachelor program that I became engaged with documentary film theory. Later on I became fascinated with the concept of animated documentary. I have wanted to write about this unique area within documentary film for a while and finally saw the opportunity to do so. I have previously worked on some of the ideas that I present here during other classes, such as my Documentary Imagination seminar. For example, I have built upon segments I have written for an essay on interactive documentary and have employed research I have previously done regarding documentary reenactments.

The idea that documentary film needs to be objective as possible, or should only portray ultimate truths has always bothered me. Now, I will use my research to try and convince people otherwise. Animation, unlike live action, is clearly not an objective

photographic image, which is why it stands out so much within the documentary genre. I have had enjoyable discussions during seminars regarding animation in documentary and if certain films could even be considered documentaries. This thesis, then, is a culmination of ideas I have previously engaged with while creating presentations and essays, while reading, and during group discussions.

Doing research for and writing this thesis, though fun, was not easy, as it has been a while since I have written any material of this length. However, I have come out of this experience with a sense of discovery. It has been my aim to convey this sense of discovery throughout this thesis. Animated documentary is a very compelling phenomenon within the world of film – and documentary especially. It puts the entire genre upside down. My hope is that I have been able to convey my arguments and that this might help point people in a certain academic direction, open their eyes to new approaches, introduce someone to new ideas concerning (documentary/animated) film, or even to simply introduce someone to a certain film, filmmaker, or writer. This thesis marks the end of my time as a Master student at the University of Amsterdam and is the apotheosis of the subjects and ideas I engaged with the most. I am pleased and thankful to have had the opportunity to write about something I enjoy.

I would also like to thank my teachers and thesis supervisor at the University of Amsterdam for their guidance, knowledge, and inspiration.

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ii. Abstract

Animation and documentary are two terms that might not go well together at first impression. Documentary should show the real world, and animation obviously does not depict that. However, this is based on preconceived notions of what a documentary should be without regarding what it could be. Many documentaries adhere to standard definitions of

documentary, with traditional elements such as voice-overs, talking heads, and a general aim to stay as close to ‘reality’ as possible. Documentaries that implement animation expose a different core of the genre. They reveal how documentaries are capable of portraying subjective experiences, instead of relaying objective information. Where the boundaries between fiction and nonfiction elements are blurry, new considerations arise concerning the genre of documentary film. The boundary between a fiction film and a documentary film is perhaps only to be found in how a filmmaker defines their film. The inherent reflexivity and performativity found in animated documentaries expose that authenticity and ‘truth’ could be found through showing subjective experiences, instead of ‘objective’ facts. Animation is capable of elevating the genre to a channel for emotion and mental states, for example for marginalized social groups or people that deal with mental health issues. It also continues to establish new channels through which we can teach and learn about the world and the people that reside within.

iii. Keywords

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While the genres of animation and documentary by themselves are not particularly controversial, when these are brought together they do not appear to mesh well. This juxtaposition feels unnatural due to preconceptions in regards to the genre of documentary, which classically saw these two genres as being diametrically opposed. At the end of this thesis it should be clear that these two categories are able to accomplish great things together. It is my ambition to challenge standard documentary definitions surrounding its truth claim, its objective nature, and the indexical bond with reality that documentary film is supposed to have. A classical definition of documentary film puts the emphasis on this relationship of the image to the real (actual) world. This, however, limits the confines of the genre to only one type of documentary, while there are many other types of documentary that offer knowledge about the world in completely different manner. Throughout this thesis I will discuss different types of documentary film and how the animated documentary is situated within these types. I will refer to the different modes of documentary established by Bill Nichols since these remain relevant and useful even when trying to complicate and/or nuance the genre

boundaries. Animated documentaryi_{, however, is not a clear-cut subgenre that can easily be} placed within pre-existing categories. This is because animation is a technique that can be implemented in a documentary film in a variety of ways. A film can be mostly live-action with some animated segments or it can be mostly animated. When talking about an “animated documentary” it will have to mostly contain animation. A movie such as Life, Animated (2016, dir. Roger Ross Williams) would typically not be described as an “animated

documentary” though it does contain important animated segments. Tower (2016, dir. Keith Maitland) is mostly animated, but its animated scenes are interjected with moments of stock footage live-action. Later on in the film, there are some live-action talking heads. Therefore, it is not simply “animated documentaries” that are relevant for this thesis, but more so the application of any method of animation inside documentary film. My thesis adds to the existing scholarship by moving the discussion away from (re-) categorizing animation to reimaging the roles of authenticity, indexicality, and aesthetics in documentary film. It is not that this discussion has not been fruitful – laying out the groundwork by comparing to

existing categorizations opens up new insights and ideas – it is now time to view the animated documentary as a driving force within the genre of documentary film itself. The usage of animation opens up a realm of previously undiscovered possibilities that this thesis will help to explore.

1.1 Historical Perspectives

i_{According to Charles Forceville, the animated documentary is sometimes referred to as “animentary”. However, in almost all}

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When searching for literature on animation in documentary film it would seem as if this genre is brand new. Most academic discussion takes place after 2010, which makes sense since animation has become a more popular method for documentary filmmakers, due to its

accessibility. It has become a lot easier to use animation in comparison to the 20th century due to computer imaging techniques. Even though most animated documentaries are made in recent years, it can be traced back all the way to the 1918 film The Sinking of the Lusitania (dir. Windsor McCay), a short propaganda film of a German attack on a British ocean liner: RMS Lusitania. It portrayed a recreation of this event, created with cel technology. This film is considered to be the first animated film and it uses animation for the simple reason of not having actual footage of the event (and perhaps also not being able to recreate it in a live-action documentary). This is a valid, albeit not a theoretically engaging function for resorting to animation in documentary film, since it does not especially challenge any ideas about defining documentary. While the reason might not call for much discussion, that does not have to be the case for its effects on the final result. Director Winsor McCay might not have set out to revolutionize the documentary film genre; after all it had just come into existence. However, he did demonstrate that the essence of documentary film does not solely rely on live action images.

In 2011, Annabelle Honess Roe also mentions The Sinking of the Lusitania as the first commercially released “animated documentary.” About the link between the film and what it can say about the potential of animation she says the following:

Significantly, The Sinking of the Lusitania contains several textual implications of the suitability of animation to the representation of real life, a sentiment that is echoed in extra-textual material surrounding the film. An early intertitle tells the audience: ‘you are looking at the first record of the sinking of the Lusitania’ and, in general, the images’ perspectives resembles those of an imaginary eyewitness, viewing the events from a distance. (218)

There were no concerns about using animation as a live-action substitute. It was simply the only way this event could be portrayed. But by using animation the film also gains qualities that would not have been possible to obtain had this event be filmed with live-action cameras. As Seth Feldman says, “McCay is taking full advantage of the size of the projected image to provide one kind of record not available in other media: the ship towering over its victims and the film’s audience simultaneously” (20). It is a fictional image that manages to convey a real feeling concerning what happened: “[t]he result is that a disaster in modernity combines with the child’s anxiety over being small and helpless (ibid.),” Feldman continues.

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In the context of contemporary scholarship, the question remains: can a film like The Sinking of the Lusitania be true to the essence of documentary? Which in itself, of course, raises the question of what this essence, this established definition, of documentary is. This brings us back to the often-cited John Grierson, who first mentioned the term “documentary” in a review of Robert Flaherty’s 1926 film Moana: “Moana, being a visual account of events in the daily life of a Polynesian youth, has documentary value” (n. pag). In 1933, Grierson defined documentary as “the creative treatment of actuality” (8). While this can be considered a rather broad definition, it works well as a starting point, since it gives a prominent position to creativity as being a part of documentary. Susan Kerrigan and Phillip McIntyre have attempted to provide context to this phrase, since they found the ‘creative’ part of the definition to be problematic. This part has led to discussions in the field of documentary studies (112). Documentary scholars find that his definition can still hold merit, provided that we do not persist in defining creativity by highly Romantic and mythical understandings. They argue the following: “if we reconceptualize what the term ‘creativity’ means it then becomes apparent that we should agree with Grierson’s definition of documentary provided we see creativity as a systemic, staged and collaborative process as current evidence-based academic research does” (126).

In her 2011 article, Honess Roe lays out the groundwork for an epistemological expansion of the documentary genre, by giving an overview of the history of animated documentary itself, as well as how the form has been approached and studied so far (as to when her work was published). She describes a neglect of the form in academic studies and gives several causes for this. First, Honess Roe claims that animated documentaries are made by those who are animators first and documentary filmmakers second (216). Second, while there is no question about the “animated” part of “animated documentary,” that is an entire different story regarding the “documentary” part (ibid). Later on in this thesis, I will go into more detail about these criticisms pointed towards animated documentary.

There are earlier examples of animation being used in a non-fiction context. Honess Roe names a number of examples, including Percy Smith films and the animated parts of the Why We Fight series that The Walt Disney Studios provided. These wartime features use animation to convey more than facts by using the animated sequences “for emphasis and visual association” (220). Besides for use in propaganda-like movies during wartime, animation was used for educational purposes as well. Walt Disney, being a pioneer in animation, was commissioned to create two films on dental hygiene, made mostly to lift the company out of financial problems. In Tommy Tucker’s Tooth (1922, dir. Walt Disney) the viewer is presented with two boys, one that cares for his teeth and one that does not. The film offers advice on tooth brushing technique. In this context, animation was used “as a prescient tool to explain, clarify, and visualize” (ibid.). Furthermore, Honess Roe describes another

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way in which animation is used in live-action documentaries, such as Michael Moore’s Bowling for Columbine (2002), Judith Hefland and Daniel B. Gold’s Blue Vinyl (2002), and Gwen Haworth’s She’s a Boy I Knew (2007). Here the animation is used to a humorous and ironic effect; to highlight the contrast between the serious subject matter and the lighter tone established by the animation (221). This is part of the added value of animation to

documentary film: it can use its apparent inherent juxtaposition to its benefit. 1.2 Defining “Animated Documentary”

Earlier on I mentioned a divide between an “animated documentary” and a documentary film that uses animated segments. The multiple functions and degrees of implementing animation call for the need of defining the term. According to Honess Roe, the previous examples, where animation was inserted in live-action films would not be described as being an “animated documentary,” because:

They lack the sense of animation and documentary cohering into a single form in which the animation works to enhance our knowledge of an aspect of the world and to the extent that the separation of the animation from the documentary is either impossible, or would render the inherent meaning of the film incomprehensible. (221) This is not to say that a documentary that contains live-action as well as animation cannot contain animated segments that do just that. A film does not have to be considered (by the viewers and/or creators) to be an animated documentary to have crucial animated sequences, without which the film would lose its inherent meaning. An example of this is the film Life, Animated (2016), which is about a man who tries to cope with his autism with the help of animated films. While this is not considered an animated documentary, since it is mostly live-action, the animated sequences are crucial to the film’s story and themes, something I will elaborate on in the next chapter. Thus, I would argue, an “animated documentary” is a documentary film that contains mostly animation and is considered by its creators and the public to be an animated documentary. This does not mean that it immediately uses animation in revolutionary ways. It does not say anything about the quality of the film. Indeed, just as live-action documentaries, animated documentaries can get facts wrong. According to Feldman, The Sinking of the Lusitania gets many facts wrong (18). There is no such thing as a perfectly true representation of an event. What I am arguing is that animation is an inherent part of documentary film that has the potential to enhance a film, may this be in an animated documentary or in a live-action documentary with animated sequences. I want to redefine the way documentary film is considered by exploring the functions of documentary that are exposed by the usage of animation.

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1.3 Thesis Structure

Including this introductory chapter, this thesis consists of five chapters, each aimed at different aspects – or functions – of animation in documentary film. Together they move towards a greater understanding of what a documentary film is and how animation plays a unique role in defining the most crucial aspects of documentary. Each chapter contains close analyses of animated documentaries, on which my claims are built. The next chapter will address the functions of animation in documentary film and the different animation can be implemented in this genre. Criticisms towards animated documentary will also be discussed. The third chapter will explore the performative documentary, performativity more generally, and the ways in which animated documentary fits within this. The fourth chapter will be about the persuasive power that animated documentary has and the relevance and importance of indexicality versus a subjective image, such as can be found in the film Ryan (2003, dir. Chris Landreth). I will be discussing numerous films that employ animation in various ways. Not all of these films will be completely animated. As I will illustrate, animation can have a function within live-action documentaries as well. The fifth and final chapter will conclude my thesis. In this chapter I will briefly discuss the interactive documentary as well, to show the differences between that and the animated documentary. After all, both are developments in the documentary genre that require a new look on the genre as a whole.

Throughout these chapters it will not just be my aim to try and find ways to shoehorn the animated documentary into existing notions of the essence of the documentary genre; instead my aim is to show that the animated documentary presents the actual nature of the genre. While an indexical link to reality can be important and ‘classical’ documentaries can be just as good as certain animated documentaries, the animated documentary shows that the power of the genre of documentary film can be found in the ways it can convince us. It can convey statements, feelings, and (mental/symbolic) images of the real world by using fictional elements. By going against what documentary seems to stand for, animation can make the genre stronger and more vibrant. Proper use of animation can even make a

documentary better, more convincing, more gripping, than if the filmmaker were just to rely on talking heads and stock footage. By embracing animation techniques as being an integral part of documentary film, actuality can be treated in creative ways that Grierson perhaps did not even think about.

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2. Defining the Functions of Animation in Documentary Film

Animated images tap the full resources of the creative imagination and, in documentaries, become yoked to specific situations and events and, often, to the voices of actual people. Waltz with Bashir (2008) is a striking example as it gives a rich, embodied feel for what it was like for Ari Folman, the filmmaker, to be complicit with a horrendous massacre during Israel’s invasion of Lebanon in 1982. (Nichols, Introduction to Documentary 111)

In his description of the film Waltz with Bashir, Bill Nichols gives a good example of what an animated image can accomplish in a genre that is all about real events and people. It is able to portray an event to which there are no recordings, which is often the case in an animated documentary, like with the previously mentioned The Sinking of the Lusitania. In a way, animation functions as a substitute for a real life reenactment, which Nichols positions at the point of where fiction and nonfiction meet, along with neo-realism, mockumentaries, and docudramas (145). Animation, however, provides the opportunity to show things such as the mental state of a person in a way that is hard to accomplish with live-action images

(reenactments or otherwise). Life, Animated tells the story of a man with autism. It uses its animated sequences to tell what live-action images are not able to. Animation also has the benefit of being an obvious fictional element, unlike reenactments. An animated image is clearly different from a photographic image.ii There is no question that the animated image is created with certain intentions. There is also no question about the image being ‘authentic’ or about if there is any participation or influencing from the hand of the director or other people behind the camera. As a viewer it is obvious that the image is construed with a function in mind; it is then up to the viewer to interpret what this function is. The viewers are invited to engage with the documentary by asking questions regarding why animation is used. 2.1 Different Types of Animated Documentary

There are different technical possibilities in creating an animated image. An animated documentary, or a segment in a live-action documentary, can be drawn by hand, computer animated, or in the case of Tower, rotoscoping. In rotoscoping a live-action image is traced over frame by frame. This creates a different type of indexical link with reality, because the animation is not created from scratch. Instead, it uses an actual photographic image at the core of its creation. It is then a unique blend of live-action – ‘real’ – images with a particular

ii_{It should be noted that with contemporary developments in computer generated imaging, animators are increasing their the}

potential to mirror reality more closely. Sometimes, it can be hard to differentiate animation from live-action. However, as of now, in most cases there is still a clear difference.

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style of animation. In this manner, an indexical link can remain intact while also making use of the creativity that comes with animation. In the third chapter of this thesis I will further explore this film and how its rotoscoping can function as a bridge between a fictional and nonfictional element. Animated documentaries might also recontextualise or otherwise reimagine audio recordings, such as interviews. In the Creature Comforts franchise,

interviews with people about their living conditions are being combined with clay-animated animals to provide a number of humorous scenes. Ryan is an animated adaptation of an interview done with animator Ryan Larkin.

Besides there being different technical aspects, Honess Roe establishes three different functions of animated documentary. She does this, as she claims, not for the sake of it. There have been multiple attempts to shoehorn the animated documentary into existing

categorizations, such as those by Nichols. Different writers have put the animated

documentaries in different categories. Honess Roe cites Sybil DelGaudio for putting it in the ‘reflexive’ mode, Gunnar Strøm and Patrick for putting it in the ‘performative’ mode, and Paul Ward for putting it in the ‘interactive mode’ (223). There are cases to be made for each of these and I will further explore the relation between animated documentaries and Nichols’ performative mode in the next chapter. However, animation is a technique, not an endpoint. I agree with Honess Roe’s point of the limitations of placing animated documentaries within these modes. She goes on to discuss different typologies that could be more fruitful for discussing animation in documentary (ibid.). These two different ways of looking at animated documentaries, with Wells establishing four new modes, which in themselves are based upon documentary modes outlined by Richard Barsam, and with Patrick proposing three primary structuresiii_{are interesting – but are they useful? Or does this just unnecessarily fragmentize} the genre of documentary film? While she rightfully questions the point of all these different categorizations, at the very least they open up new ways of thinking about documentary film and the functions of animation.

I am not looking to provide yet another set of categories, modes, or structures, but I do want to address Honess Roe’s functions, since they deal directly with different effects the use of animation can have on a documentary film and through that, on the documentary genre as a whole. It needs to be said that, of course, these categories are arbitrary and films are not made with these functions in mind. Thus, a film can contain elements of multiple functions. These categories merely show how animation can impact a documentary film.

The first function she defines is the substitutive way animation can illustrate something that would otherwise be hard, or even impossible, because of the lack of an ‘original,’ which can sometimes be the case for historical events. This, for example, is the

iii

_{And, apparently, even a fourth ‘extended structure’, which in itself is based upon one of Ward’s modes, to make matters} easier.

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case, as previously mentioned, with The Sinking of the Lusitania, and is the most obvious function of the three. Other examples she cites are Walking with Dinosaurs (1999), which uses 3D computer animation, superimposed on previously filmed backdrops, and Chicago 10 (2007, dir. Brett Morgen), which combines motion capture with traditional animation to recreate a trial of which there were no filmed records. She calls this function mimetic substitution.

The second function, which Honess Roe calls non-mimetic substitution (226), also deals with documentaries that substitute animation for live-action. The main difference being that these films do not attempt to maintain a ‘realistic’ look and have more creative visuals. This function takes more of an advantage of the possibilities that lie within using animation, or as Honess Roe puts it: “[films that use non-mimetic substitution] work towards embracing and acknowledging animation as a medium in its own right, a medium that has the potential to express meaning through its aesthetic realization” (ibid.). Both of these functions are based upon the notion of substituting a live-action image for the main reason of it not being

available. Non-mimetic substitution however, does acknowledge the aesthetic function of animation.

The third function, in a way, takes it a step further than the previous two in its deviation from real world images, because it gives more weight and meaning to the animation. “Evocation is a third function of animation in animated documentaries that respond to a different kind of representational limitation” (227). This function uses animation to its fullest extent by, for example, creating surrealistic images to represent certain mental states. In this case there is no use for an indexical link to reality, because there cannot be one. It can be a way for filmmakers to communicate psychological experiences that the majority of viewers usually would not know about. It can also simulate emotions or stimulate your imagination. However, there does need to be some link with the real world for it to still be a documentary, though the boundaries between fiction and nonfiction can be blurry. It could even be asked if this link to needs to be indexical – do we need an image or sound to be indexically linked to the outside world for it to be able to say something about the world? Animated documentaries, and specifically evocative ones tend to blur these boundaries even further, which is why we should continue asking questions about what animation can mean for the genre and about what the most defining aspects and functions of documentary film are. 2.2 Criticisms towards Animation in Documentary Film

Though most publications I have consulted for writing this thesis have been positive in their considerations and discussions on animation in documentaries, it is important to remain critical about its usage. There are ethical questions that arise when it becomes unclear when a scene is a reenactment or when certain scenes are deemed improper to reenact/animate. The

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apparent juxtaposition in the phrase “animated documentary” is not merely an illusion; it is based upon what both academia and society have deemed to be inherent to a classical definition of documentary film. From my own experiencing discussing animation in documentary film with fellow students, I came across people who had problems with considering animated documentaries as ‘proper’ documentaries; especially films that apply the evocative function. In the movie Ryan the images are particularly disturbing and far from reality that it does not feel like a documentary anymore. Ryan uses abstract images to convey the headspace of its interview subject (figure 1). Its images are heavily manipulated, which is something I will further address in chapter 4.

Figure 1. Ryan uses abstract images to evoke a particular subjective state of mind.

According to Cristina Formenti, the lack of an indexical link is disastrous for a film that poses as a documentary. In our commonplace approach to documentary film, this is perhaps the most crucial element. Without this indexical link it might try to look, sound, or pretend to be a documentary but it would be the same as a mockumentary: a film that has features similar to a documentary film but is not quite one. According to her, the animated documentary should be grouped with docufictions. She describes a specific set of codes having to be present for a documentary to be classified as such: “[t]he aesthetics and codes adopted can vary depending on the representational mode chosen, but have to be consistently present in order to induce the viewer to read a film as a documentary” (106). While she makes an understandable argument, it also presupposes that animated documentary needs to fit within an established definition of the genre. If working within the boundaries that have been set without considering animation, it is easy to shove it to the side and not consider it to be a proper part of documentary film. Also, most animated documentaries do contain some sort of indexical link to reality (such as in audio fragments or through rotoscoping). Even though I disagree with her conclusions, her

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points are relevant for the discussion surrounding the boundaries between documentary and docudrama. There are cases to be made for animation to fit within each of these. However, it seems unproductive to force an animated documentary, which establishes itself as such, within a different category, just to hold onto historical notions and definitions of documentary.

Honess Roe responds to these and other criticisms in her 2016 article “Against Animated Documentary?”. She uses the opportunity to respond to academic criticisms about using the term documentary when it comes to animated films and to potential audience objections. She recognized that in her earlier work she was perhaps too enthusiastic about animated documentaries and should have paid attention to acknowledging criticisms regarding the form. According to Honess Roe, most of the criticisms can be grouped under the idea that animated documentaries are not documentary enough. This idea of documentary stems from preconceived and outdated notions concerning documentary definitions. In her refutation of these arguments, Honess Roe echoes Grierson’s definition I previously mentioned:

This attitude towards documentary is not only outmoded, but also unrealistic because, as I have pointed out, very few, if any, documentaries have lived up to this purist ideal. Indeed, one of the reasons, I suggest, that John Grierson’s 1933 definition of documentary as “the creative treatment of actuality” has had such longevity is because it is broad church – it allows for a wide variety of aesthetic and practical approaches to making nonfiction. (22)

It is only natural for criticisms to exist towards ‘new’ and different approaches to established ways of doing. However, as should be clear by now, these criticisms ignore the potential of this technique to convey meanings in ways that were hitherto barely employed. This is not to say that animated documentaries should not be criticized in general. Like any other media product, it will be criticized for its content. After all, using animation does not guarantee that a documentary works well – some films might not use it in a proper manner at all. Honess Roe mentioned this criticism in the same article in regards to a question that an audience member asked about the downsides of animated documentary becoming more ubiquitous. She says the following about what the increasing prevalence of the animated documentary within the wider field of documentary film has done in regards to the quality of some films:

Now the use of animation as a representational strategy for documentary is far more commonplace (…). The downside of this prevalence (…) was that ubiquity leads to laziness and that animated documentaries, instead of utilizing the animated form in an

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imaginative way, often simply bolt animation on to an existing (documentary) soundtrack. As a result, animated documentaries are in danger of becoming little more than illustrated radio documentaries with the animation merely providing a visualization of what we hear on the soundtrack. (24)

This shows that with increasing quantity, quality often tends to get lost. However, this does not say anything inherently about animated documentary as a form, merely about how it sometimes gets utilized. Honess Roe states that “[i]ssues of technical proficiency and

thoughtful and relevant use of animation in a documentary context could perhaps be seen as a side effect of the maturation of the animated documentary” (24-5). But, like is common when issues surrounding quality are concerned, this can also be highly subjective. What one considers to be a proficient, engaging, and original usage of the medium of animation, another could have a totally different view on the matter. No work of (any type of) media should be considered as unworthy of being regarded as an object of study. Nor, as this was the context in which it was asked in, should the entire field of animated documentary be disregarded, simply because the quality of some of them might not be considered proficient (by some).

2.3 Ethical Considerations

These criticisms are also linked with the discussion of ethics regarding documentary film, which is a subject that has been discussed in numerous different ways in documentary studies. In reality television, it is often unclear when scenes are scripted, though they are usually presented as being unscripted. Sometimes the only way to differentiate is by noticing a tiny disclaimer stating that the program contains reenactments. Examples of these are shows such as House Hunters (1999), Pawn Stars (2009-), The Jerry Springer Show (1991-), Ghost Hunters (2004-2016), etc. It has been revealed that all these shows contain scripted elements in one way or another. This can also make it problematic for reality shows that do want to say something about the real world to be taken seriously: ‘reality’ television is nowadays not seen as television about ‘reality’ at all. It appears that ‘reality television should be considered fiction, presented inside nonfiction characteristics, much like mockumentaries.

According to Willemien Sanders, scholars have asked questions about ethics and morals (which, wrongfully, often get used interchangeable) of documentary film, but the debate has not evolved in the course of three decadesiv_{(529). She goes on to discuss different} aspects of the debate surrounding ethics, such as the degree in which the participant should be able to collaborate with the director. She says that “[d]ocumentary filmmakers should always

iv_{Her article was published in 2010.}

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have the freedom to tell their own stories — and be kept accountable for them” (541-2). So, while the participant can share their opinions, it should be up to the filmmaker what the final product looks like. Suggestions to follow rules and codes have lead to nothing, according to Sanders. Using certain documentary functions or aesthetics provide the filmmaker with the possibility to give the participant a larger voice, but again, this cannot and should not be forced on the filmmaker: “[r]eflexivity may serve as a device to break the realism-code of documentary and show negotiations between filmmaker and participant. But as with a collaborative approach, compelling it kills filmmakers’ freedom of expression and creativity” (542). Sanders goes on to differentiate the responsibilities the filmmaker has when producing a documentary film. First of all, the filmmaker has responsibilities towards the participant(s). According to her, much of the literature surrounding ethics in documentary film refer to the relationship between filmmaker and participant. This has to do with issues of “the filmmaker– participant relationship, such as representation, informing the participant, privacy, and exploitation” (544). An important notion with regard to responsibilities towards the

participants is that of informed consent. This is where the filmmaker provides the participant with enough information with which the participant can form a clear opinion on the way they are portrayed within the film and can consent to this portrayal:

The focus on responsibilities to the subjects of documentary films lends itself to the examination of informed consent. The requirement of gaining the consent of the subjects of films provides an opportunity for filmmakers to either comply with ethical standards or to thwart them. Interestingly, genuine informed consent appeals to one of the same excellences as the making of documentary films — truth-telling.

(Maccarone 198)

Secondly, the filmmaker has responsibilities towards the film itself. Filmmakers should make their arguments as accurate and convincingly as possible and they should remain true to their personal vision of the world. Sanders says that “[t]his encompasses their

responsibility to their subject and their audience but reflects filmmakers’ responsibility toward their project” (ibid.). This responsibility can also be understood as being towards the filmmakers themselves, or to other people involved in a documentary project, such as the financiers. However, these responsibilities could potentially clash with responsibilities towards the participants, especially when speaking of money (ibid.).

The third type of responsibility that Sanders discusses is the responsibility towards the audience. Crucial here are the traditional claims to truth of documentary film (545). These claims to truth are based in the classical understanding of the scientific aspect of photography and film. Images do not lie – rather, they are proof. They are set in the real world and have an

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indexical bond with this world (ibid.). The television further strengthened this idea:

“[d]eveloping into television, with an increasing focus on journalism, this became the most important claim: What you see is real, and it is even more real because it is actual” (ibid.). According to Larry Gross, audiences expect to witness a “slice of life” (20). However, since then these ideas have been challenged, for example when postmodernism left its mark. Images can lie, after all. As mentioned before, in numerous reality television programs it is often unclear what is scripted and what is not. Images can also be digitally altered and film scenes can be edited in certain ways. This is also where the animated documentary comes into play. The usage of animation in documentary film is a challenge to the aforementioned truth claims. What you see might, in fact, not be real – though it can still say something about the real world. Sanders words it as follows:

Even despite digitalization and increased possibilities for manipulation, truth claims seem to survive somehow. At the same time, postmodernism left its mark. If documentaries cannot guarantee the truth, if truth claims are to be questioned, it seems they are to be questioned by the audience. (546)

It is a filmmaker’s duty, then, to make clear to the audience what it is that they are showing. Reenactments should be framed as such and the filmmaker’s influence on the events that are portrayed in a film should be made clear directly, or indirectly, through commonly

understood cues. For example, when a filmmaker shows him- or herself in a film, it is an acknowledgement of their involvement. In animated documentaries, these ethical

considerations should also be taken into account. While the film might not use actual footage of participants, it still might use audio recordings or refer to actual people. While the

filmmaker should decide the amount of influence the participant has on the final product, the participant’s wishes should be taken into account. The responsibilities towards the film itself are the same as with live-action documentaries. It could even be awareness of this

responsibility that led a filmmaker to incorporate animation. Using animation could strengthen an argument and make a film more convincing, especially when the argument deals with matters that cannot be caught in camera (such as those having to deal with emotional struggle).

2.4 Using Animation in Life, Animated

Some live-action documentary films also implement animation. These should perhaps not be called animated documentaries, but the ways in which animation is used can be of note nonetheless. They can, however, be hard to define. Taking a closer look at the example of Life, Animated, it is unclear if Formenti would categorize this as docufiction or simply as a

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regular documentary that uses animated segments. A film does not need to be classified as an animated documentary to contain animated segments that can reflect on the genre of

documentary itself; that can add to a documentary film in ways live-action cannot. Life, Animated is not an animated documentary, but animation is a crucial element of this film. It mixes live-action segments that follow the main character around as he lives his daily life with stock footage and pictures from his childhood, talking head interviews with the people in his life, sequences from animated films, and original animated sequences.

This 2016 film is an adaptation of the book Life, Animated: A Story of Sidekicks, Heroes, and Autism, written by the main character’s father. It tells the story of Owen Suskind, a man who struggles with autism. Animation provides the opportunity to delve deeper into his mental state and explore sensations that are hard to convey by merely talking about it. At a young age, Owen seemed to be a typical child, but as he grew older signs of autism started popping up, which included not being able to properly communicate with the people around him. It was his love for animated Disney films (and also some other animated films) that enabled him to speak through these films by quoting passages from his favorites. The film shows some footage from these films, but also contains original animated footage. These scenes use non-mimetic substitution to convey situations from Owen’s childhood. The animation is used to portray events from the past that were not recorded, but utilizes the animation to convey more than just information. In one scene a situation is described where Owen is instructed to walk down a hallway, which he had some trouble with at that time (figure 2). It also contains a shot where the camera tilts and moves forwards slowly, illustrating the sadness that was felt by his family members and possibly himself. The animation externalizes internal sensations and is a perfect method of transferring his feelings. In a shot that follows closely after, the camera slowly moves through an empty hallway, conveying feelings of sadness and desperation (figure 3).

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Figure 2. Owen is encouraged to walk towards his mother.

Figure 3. The hallway symbolizes the long and challenging road ahead, while the camera movement conveys a feeling of sadness and desperation.

The style of animation and the lack of color manage to convey the darker times that Owen went through when he was struggling with his autism. During another scene he is described as having been bullied (figure 4). These shots are interjected with dark moments from Disney movies, such as the evil Jafar laughing in Aladdin (1992) and Simba looking down in horror after his father fell to his death in The Lion King (1994). Here, original animation works together with live action talking heads and animated sequences from other films to convey information as well as feelings and emotions. Not much later in the film Owen reacts to The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996) and sympathizes with its main character and also makes a drawing of Quasimodo himself. Owen would often make drawings of Disney characters – not of the main characters, but of the sidekicks, with whom he identified the most. As the story progresses, more color is inserted into the animated sequences, signifying the evolution that

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Owen is going through (with the help of the Disney films). Identifying with the sidekick characters gives Owen a voice and it helps him develop and grow as a person. In a longer animated sequence he is seen surrounding himself with these characters, which are there for him (figure 5). Additionally, Owen is seen drawing himself as well, as he draws a portrait of himself surrounded by his favorite sidekicks. He also creates an enemy to the sidekicks: Fuzzbutch, who makes his head feel cloudy and sad. He uses this character as an expression of his sadness and worry.

Figure 4. Owen went through a fearful time where he withdrew himself after being bullied.

Figure 5. Owen is seen next to the sidekick character Sebastian from the 1989 Disney film The Little Mermaid.

Towards the end of the film there are more interjections of short clips from Disney movies that fit with Owen’s mood. Shots of Aladdin and Jasmine being romantic are shown as Owen talks about his relationship with his girlfriend. When he later on feels sad and heartbroken the film shows a number of sad Disney characters. The movie concludes with a fast paced mix of

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shots from different Disney movie, culminating into the scene from the end of The Lion King where Simba reclaims his throne in the Pride Lands, signifying the hopeful and powerful attitude that Owen has.

These analyses show that using animation is nothing less than appropriate considering the meaning that animated films have for Owen. It is an integral part of both Owen’s and the film’s identity. However, as I will show through other examples, a film does not need to be about animation to use it in meaningful ways. Life, Animated shows that animation can substitute live-action to convey moods and feelings in ways that would otherwise be reduced to talking heads and stock footage. The movie uses different styles of animation, but they all work towards establishing Owen’s headspace. The styles differ as Owen’s subjective experiences change as well. Certain scenes reflect certain moods. The use of animation adds to the documentary value of the film because it tells us more about the character than the facts of his life. It visualizes the internal struggles of a man with autism who wants to make sense of the world around him.

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3. Animation and the Performative Documentary

In his Introduction to Documentary Nichols defines a number of different modes of

documentary. While I have previously mentioned that it is not necessarily fruitful to try and position animation within one of these modes, a discussion about how the animated

documentary relates to the performative mode can help provide an understanding of where exactly the ‘documentary’ aspect of animated documentary resides. Before going deeper into the performative mode, I will briefly summarize the modes that Nichols defines.

3.1 Six Modes of Documentary as Defined by Nichols

The first mode Nichols defines is the ‘poetic mode.’ Being one of the more unconventional and rare modes, “it is particularly adept at opening up the possibility of alternative forms of knowledge to the straightforward transfer of information” (162). Unlike more conventional documentaries, it tends to focus on conveying moods, thoughts, tones, and affect instead of factual information. A classic example is the Joris Ivens film Rain (1929; Dutch: Regen), a short film that can also be seen as a city symphonyv. It portrays a rainstorm from different perspectives: people walking around with umbrellas, tarps blowing in the wind, and raindrops falling into puddles. It uses these images to convey feelings related to rain. Much like the movie Rain accomplishes, animation can also work in a poetic manner. However, not all uses of animation are poetic per se; it is merely a method that can be poetically applied. It can be argued that animation can offer more creative ways to achieve poetry: the possibilities are endless.

The second mode is perhaps the one that most people would think of when they think of documentary film. Nichols calls it the ‘expository mode.’ The most defining feature of this mode is that it addresses the viewer directly, for example through a voice-over, a voice-of-God, where the narrator is heard but never seen. This is often the case in nature

documentaries, for example. The aim of an expository film is to explain and make a point by providing arguments. The editing in this film Nichols describes as evidentiary, which “may sacrifice spatial and temporal continuity to rope in images from far-flung places if they help advance the argument or support a proposal” (169).

The ‘observatory mode’ is the third mode Nichols defines, which is often described as a fly-on-the-wall or cinema vérité approach, where the camera and the filmmakers seem to not exist and are never referenced or acknowledged. There is no staging or composing of a scene as can be the case in the poetic and expository modes. Fred Wiseman is a famous director who was known for creating films like this, such as Hospital (1970) and High School

v_{A city symphony can be seen as a blend of an avant-garde film and a poetic documentary film. As its name suggest, it is about}

city life. It portrays the city through an aesthetically unique visualization. Famous examples include The Man with a Movie

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(1968). This is the one mode out of the six that animation could never work in, for obvious reasons. Films in the observatory mode focus on showing, not telling, on using images with often little context. This can also be the cause for criticisms and ethical concerns. Nichols poses a number of ethical questions, without seeking to provide answer for them. He wonders if the act of registering a person’s daily business without interference can be seen as

voyeuristic. There are also questions of consent and of authenticity. For a method that seems to put authenticity on the forefront, how can it be certain that an actor in these films is behaving as they normally would? And even merely the presence of the camera itself can influence the events unfolding in front of it. Another set of questions Nichols mentions regards the representations of other cultures:

Does the filmmaker seek out others to represent because they possess qualities that may fascinate viewers for wrong reasons? This question often comes up with ethnographic films that observe, in other cultures, behavior that may, without adequate contextualization, seem exotic or bizarre, more part of a “cinema of attractions” than science. (175)

The next mode could be seen as almost the opposite of the observational mode, because in the ‘participatory mode’ there is an important role for the filmmaker. In these films the filmmaker is an important part of the film itself. In Louis Theroux’ My Scientology Movie (2015, dir. John Dower), Theroux himself acts as a main character of the film (the title already gives away how crucial Theroux is for the film). In the movie the audience is taken along with his journey, where Theroux discovers numerous intricacies surrounding the cult and some of its former members and goes on to create reenactments of scenes that took place behind closed doors. Michael Moore is also well known for being an active participant in his own

documentaries, such as in Roger and Me (1989). Participatory films smash the illusion that observatory films provide of ‘life caught unawares’vi_{. In contrast to those films, the} filmmaker in a participatory film is not afraid to admit the subjectivity of the film. Who is telling is just as important as what is being told.

The ‘reflexive mode’ is similar to the participatory mode, with the biggest difference being that “the process of negotiation between filmmaker and viewer become[s] the focus of attention for the reflexive mode” (194). This is in contrast with the focus being on the negotiation between filmmaker and subject in the participatory mode. This mode asks us to see documentary for what it is: “a construct or representation” (ibid.). It can become

vi

_{“Life caught unawares was one of the credos by Russian director Dzigo Vertov. His films were very influential for the cinema} vérité (observatory) movement in documentary filmmaking. His most well known work is the 1929 film Man with a Movie

Camera (Russian: Chelovek s kinoapparatom). That movie itself is also famous for using a wide range of cinematic techniques,

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confusing as to the mode a film belongs to, especially with a category such as the reflexive mode. It should be said that a film could have elements that belong to a number of different modes. A poetic documentary can also be a reflexive one. And animation can fit in different modes as well; this is why the animated documentary cannot simply be inserted into one of these established categories. The use of animation can inherently have reflexive properties regarding the genre. After all, animation becoming more ubiquitous in documentary film has paved the way for academic discussion regarding defining documentaries. Films in the reflexive mode ask similar questions to the ones that are always implicitly (and often explicitly as well) present in animated documentary discussions. Nichols frames these as follows: “[w]hat ‘truth’ do documentaries reveal about the self, how is it different from a staged or scripted performance, what conventions prompt us to believe in the authenticity of documentary performance, and how can this belief be productively subverted” (196)? DelGaudio also writes about the reflexivity in documentary film:

If we agree that 'representing reality', in Nichols' words, is of critical importance to the projects of certain animated films, I will argue that the reflexive mode seems a particularly appropriate mode in which to situate certain animated films, since animation itself acts as a form of 'metacommentary' within a documentary, a form that is traditionally and most frequently characterised by live-action and

non-dramatisation, particularly in the case of films which 'document the undocumentable', either because a camera has not been present at the event, or because the event has occurred at a time prior to photography or any other type of recording. (192) However, where DelGaudio wants to place ‘certain’ animated films, I would say that all animated documentary films have an inherent reflexivity – a point I will revisit – but that we should not try to place it within that mode. It would be enough to acknowledge that it contains a reflexive function and that it works in similar ways to live-action reflexive documentaries. It would sell the animated documentary short, however, to quickly situate it within the reflexive mode and move on.

Finally, we arrive at the performative mode of documentary film. This mode relates to the poetic mode in the way it questions the nature of knowledge: “[i]s knowledge best described as abstract and disembodied, based on generalizations and the typical, in the tradition of Western philosophy” (200)? Or, as the performative documentary would suggest, “is knowledge better described as concrete and embodied, based on personal experience, in the tradition of poetry, literature, and rhetoric” (ibid.)? This idea of knowledge is embodied by this mode, which focuses on the idea of subjective knowledge. The voice the movie contains is a strongly personal one with an aim to portray the way the world is experienced.

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This is also perhaps the hardest mode to grasp, especially since it could be argued that all documentaries contain a form of performance in one way or the other. This becomes especially apparent through the animated documentary.

3.2 Animation, the Performative Documentary, and Performativity

The reason for the continuing relevance of Nichols’ modes lies in the way these highlight the different possibilities that the genre contains. He builds upon the ideas contained in

Grierson’s ‘creative treatment of actuality’. Animation helps to bring these possibilities to the surface. It shatters expectations set out by the popularity and abundance of films that have characteristics belonging mostly to the expository and observational modes. It relates to the performative documentary in regards to the way it can portray subjective perceptions of the world, for example by repressed social minorities or people with disabilities (as in the case of Life, Animated). From this perspective, Stella Bruzzi pits the performative documentary against the observational documentary. She says that performative documentaries "confront the problem of aestheticisation, accepting (…) authorship as intrinsic to documentary, in direct opposition to the exponents of Direct cinema who saw themselves as merely the purveyors of the truth they pursued." This opposition is similar to the opposition of animated documentaries and live-action documentaries. Animation and performative documentaries both bring out a different side of the genre, where factual information is second to subjective experience, emotive aesthetics, and refreshing styles. Bruzzi’s idea of performativity in documentary film does differ to Nichols’ performative mode. According to her, all documentary films contain a sense of performativity. As Anne Yerslev puts it:

Stella Bruzzi’s notion of performativity draws on J.L. Austin’s speech act theory as well as Judith Butler’s understanding of gender and subjectivity as ‘a doing’, as famously put forward in Gender Trouble (1991) and followed up in Bodies That Matter (1993) with an extended argument for subjectivity especially as a citational praxis. (86-7)

Austin’s notion of the speech act has increased attention towards non-declarative usages of language. The most important speech act in Austin’s theory is the illocutionary act, where the use of a sentence expresses an attitude with a certain function. They are the actual actions that are performed by the utterance. Documentary films perform by engaging the viewer through its unique voice. “Documentaries are performative acts”, according to Bruzzi (7). She exposes the way in which every documentary is structured: there is always at least some sort of performance going on. For documentary classicists, performativity could be seen as

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is not a negative trait of documentary at all. On the contrary, we should always be aware of the subjective nature of all film, even those that claim to be objective or true to life. Yerslev also touches upon the strengths of the performative documentary in relation to classical documentaries:

The performative mode is not so much about putting forth an argument about the historical world or to persuade the viewer as to produce communicative encounters and engage the viewer emotionally. If there is such a thing as an argument, it is advanced through the interaction between film and viewer. (88)

Paul Ward describes the animating process to be a particular type of performance, “the giving of life to inanimate objects and things via a repeated, almost ritualistic sets of actions” (299). Ward also writes about the complexities regarding the subgenre of puppet/stop-motion animation and the way animation fits within the discussion of what is fiction and what is nonfiction:

We are familiar with the definition of fiction being a construct about a world, and nonfiction being a construct about the world; there are therefore different levels of investment, as it were, depending on the status of what we are watching. In

puppet/stop motion animation, this ‘tension’ between ‘worlds’ – the ontology of the real event being re-presented and the ontology of the puppet animation – is

foregrounded and heightened. (299)

He also takes into regard the difficulties with labeling a film. Where one would see a certain film as an animated documentaryvii_{, another might regard it as docufiction. His statements} concerning this echo the idea that interpretation is important, alongside what the filmmaker intended. The way in which a viewer interprets the sights and sounds that are portrayed is vital, as well as ‘secondary discourses’ surrounding the film and pre-knowledge concerning the film and its creator. A film that markets itself as a documentary film, will more likely be considered as such (301). Ward calls this a ‘communicative loop,’ a mutual understanding between the filmmaker and the viewer, in which a filmmaker tells their audience in what way they should watch their film:

vii

_{Paul Ward uses the ten mark (2010, dir. Joe Sheehan) as his case study. The ten mark is a short film that uses stop motion} puppet animation and tells the story of British serial killer John Christie

.

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Simply put, there is a ‘communicative loop’ in which the filmmaker constructs a film with a certain intention to assert that such-and-such happened in reality, and the viewer ‘reciprocates’ by watching the material and presuming that the filmmaker wishes them to view and understand the film in this way. (302)

The animated documentary confirms Bruzzi’s argument about performativity being part of the documentary genre in general. Animation exists within documentary to speak to the spectator experience in different ways: he or she is addressed emotionally by providing new ways to portray subjectivity. This is not to say animation is always used in this way, but it is where its potential lies. It reveals that not objectivity, but performativity and subjectivity are the core elements of documentary film. Documentary film is much more suited to portray what things feel like, instead of what things are. Once this idea is more generally accepted, animation can be widely embraced as being a crucial part to documentary film.

3.3 Tower and Reenactments

The way animation can portray subjective experiences can be seen throughout the film Tower. The film combines reenactments (performed by actors) with animation through the use of rotoscoping, where photographic images get drawn over to transform them into animated images. The film also features some of the actual survivors of the event: at the end of the movie the real people are shown after shots from their animated versions. Thus, it is not a completely animated film, as it also contains the aforementioned interviews with the actual people and the animation is intercut with archival footage of the event. The opening shot even contains a combination of both: it starts with an animated shot of a police officer driving and reporting the incident in the car and then pans towards a live-action frame of the tower. The film portrays the 1966 shooting at the University of Texas at Austin, where Charles Whitman opened fire from the top floor of the University of Texas Tower. While opening fire, he held the campus hostage and killed and injured numerous people. Tower follows a number of characters and their story throughout the events of the movie.

The film uses the reenactments to portray events of which there are no recordings. The way Tower uses animation can be classified as non-mimetic substitution, since it also allows the animation to speak for itself. It manages to convey the emotions of the people that were attacked during the day and the film brings the viewer closer to the terror of the events. It offers the opportunity to retell the events without relying too much on just interviews or voice-overs to convey chunks of information. It then uses animation to give the reenactments its own distinguishing features. In one shot early in the film it shows a person being shot, with a red background highlighting the intensity of the moment (figure 6).

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Figure 6. A lady falls down to the ground after being shot by the shooter.

Tower’s claim on being a documentary film comes from its structure, which does contain classical documentary elements (the archival footage), from its performative aspects and from the way it advertises itself. The way a movie it presented by its creators should not be

overlooked, as this is an important cause for how it is positioned within its wider cultural frame. The fact that it uses reenactments that are then also drawn over does not push it further towards fiction, even though these are fictional elements inside its nonfictional shell. Unlike with live-action, reenactments are integral to animation, since animation can never be actual footage of an event. Of course there could be a documentary about animation that uses stock footage from other animated movies. Or in the case of Life, Animated, stock footage of Disney movies is used because these are important to Owen’s story. Animation can also be used as an illustration or to convey information in a humorous way, such as is quite common in Michael Moore movies. So not all animation inside an animated documentary has to reenact something. But it does always have an effect that would not be reached if live-action were used. Live-action reenactments and animation are similar elements within documentary film. They are both fictional elements within nonfiction, with the big difference being that animation is clearly not real, while live-action reenactments need to be framed as such.

The use of animation proves itself to be an ample way to recreate intense events such as a mass shooting. It manages to portray the intensity of the situation and be emotionally disturbing while not having to resort to a fictionalized live-action retelling or to live-action reenactments. Through animation, the headspace of the people that were in the middle of the situation can be shown. It also makes the inherent juxtaposition – portraying a horrible, real life event, through animation, which is classically seen as a light-hearted medium – more uncomfortable and thus makes the viewer more disturbed because of it. However, this can also be a cause of criticism, because it creates a barrier between the viewer and the actual events. Peter Brunette states a similar sentiment in a review for Waltz with Bashir: “[the use of animation in this film] visually abstracts the scenes that haunt Folman and his former

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comrades, making them less emotionally immediate.” It should then be said that it depends on the film and on the way the viewer interprets the images if this sense of emotional immediacy is strengthened or weakened through the use of animation. I do remain convinced that

animation is able to portray what live-action is unable to and can create a deeper understanding of subjective experience, especially of those that are not common to the average viewer. In Waltz with Bashir, we learn more about a war veteran. In Life, Animated we learn more about what life is like for a person with autism. In Tower, we are granted access to the headspace of people who found themselves trapped in a mass shooting. And in Ryan we are introduced to someone who has suffered from drug and alcohol addiction. 3.4 Reenactments and Authenticity

Animation (in general; not animated reenactments per se) and live-action reenactments both serve a similar function in documentary film. They are both used instead of ‘regular’ footage, for instance. Where reenactments can often be seen is in (television) productions about true crime. The US television show Disappeared (2009-) commonly uses reenactments to illustrate to the viewer what has or might have transpired before or after the events of a person’s disappearance. One example is the Dutch television show Opsporing Verzocht (1975-), which is a show that asks its viewers to contact authorities if they recognize people who committed certain crimes. Both these shows insert short reenactments of the crimes and happenings surrounding the crimes. Nichols describes this type of reenactment as a common variation: the “realist dramatization”. According to him, this is the most controversial type of reenactment:

The suspenseful, dramatic reenactment in a realist style is the most contentious because it is the least distinguishable from both that which it reenacts and the conventional representation of past events in fiction, be it in the form of a historical drama, “true story,” docudrama, or flashback. (84)

There are different types of reenactments, however. The next variation of reenactment that Nichols describes is the “typifications.” The reenactments in Nanook of the North and other early documentaries fall under this category, which is characterized by the lack of reference to a specific event in the past. They are created more so to sketch a way of living, for example. This form of reenactment tends to raise questions about authenticity – questions which are already raised when using reenactments in general. Unlike the realist

dramatizations, the indexical link between image and reality is diminished due to the lack of a specific event to refer to. This is why Nanook received some criticisms regarding the staged reenactments, because it could not be recognized as a reenactment. The walrus hunt and seal

Rethinking Documentary Film: The Juxtapositon of Animated Documentary Rebutted

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