Dir. Andrew Jarecki, 2003, USA, 107 mins
Cast: Arnold Friedman, Elaine Friedman, David Friedman, Jesse Friedman, Howard Friedman, Frances Galasso
Paedophile. Is there a word that provokes a more frenzied reaction in the media today? Beyond murder, beyond rape (these things often horrifyingly implicit in the term anyway) paedophilia incites such hysteria and fear that there are very few examples where it is intelligently dealt with in contemporary cinema. Andrew Jarecki's brave, mesmerising (and now award-laden) documentary is an exception and destined to be dissected in post-cinema pub arguments more than any movie since Donnie Darko. It is almost impossible to watch this film and not have a hundred questions whirring through your brain.
Jarecki originally set out to make a documentary about kid's party clowns in New York City. However, one man stood out as the most unlikely children's entertainer since Krusty. David Friedman, sarcastic, bitter and brimming with barely suppressed rage, was clearly hiding something both captivating and terrifying. After much discussion, Jarecki stumbled upon a far more dark, complex and compelling story than he could ever have anticipated. It was a family tragedy and a crime story that needed to be told, as Jarecki puts it, ".on a humane level; for in demonizing people and making monsters of this family, we negate our responsibility as humans...And quite possibly turn our backs on the truth in the process."
Flashback thirteen years ago and the Friedmans, from a distance, look like a blueprint for middle-class success in America. Arnold Friedman is a hugely respected local teacher living in an affluent Long Island community with his doting sons David, Seth and Jesse. The boys are gregarious, filming comedy routines and mock interviews with their good-humoured dad. His wife Elaine seems like a loving, if neurotic, woman. However, their apparently placid lives are suddenly obliterated when Arnold and Jesse (the youngest son) are accused of sexually molesting children in an after-school computer class in the Friedmans' own basement.
As Detective-Sergeant Frances Galasso says, you have to be absolutely sure of the grounds for arrest in such cases, because even the accusation can ruin lives forever. No sooner is that said than we are taken on a journey exposing misinformation, outright lies, questionable police procedures and journalistic witch-hunting. The film becomes, more than anything else, a chilling comment on the fallibility of human perception - a modern day Rashomon. In a telling moment, Galasso describes seeing foot-high piles of child pornography "literally all over the house". We are then shown the photos taken by police officers of a house bereft of porn-stacks, except for one small pile behind a piano.
However, Capturing the Friedmans is not a didactic film. Unlike the heart-on-sleeve politics of Michael Moore's Bowling For Columbine, or the crusading intent of Errol Morris's The Thin Blue Line (which lead to the release of a death-row prisoner), Jarecki allows the viewer to reach their own conclusions. Aware that documentary is necessarily subjective, he simply lets each person tell their story, confident in the knowledge that the truth will out, and that given enough rope people will usually hang themselves. The fact that Arnold did procure child porn, and that he admitted to having sexual contact with boys in the past is never glossed over. We are left with extremely complicated feelings towards these characters. Arnold is a paedophile. Elaine is a manic-depressive estranged from her sons. Jesse may have been guilty of something. David is a belligerent crank who refuses to even question certain evidence in relation to the case. But these people may have been victims of a gross injustice, in spite of other crimes or personal failings.
Part of Jarecki's mission was to "capture the essence of this family and their story." Stylistically, the film has a blistering ace up its sleeve to achieve this goal. The Friedmans embody the fascination that America has with the recorded image, shooting hours of footage of pre-crisis family life and, amazingly, during the trial and conviction. It is only Elaine who feels this incessant recording of their trauma unnerving and intrusive, whereas the boys use it almost as a coping mechanism. As David says, perhaps he kept filming so he wouldn't have to remember it himself. Bad memories stored safely away in a can. It is this footage though that gives this movie such an immediate and shocking effect. At times this is almost unbearably invasive. At one point David addresses his own video-diary: "This is private," he warns, "so if you're not me you really shouldn't be watching this." It is an incredibly intimate record of a living nightmare.
Ultimately, we are placed among this monumentally dysfunctional family and asked to make up our own minds about them. By casting us as both jurors and as unseen members of the Friedman household Jarecki provokes a level of reflection and empathy that makes mockery of the media's polarised view of good and bad. Whatever your conclusions about the Friedmans and the validity of the court case, this is a film that will simmer in your consciousness long after the final super-8 family portrait fades from the screen.
Paul Mallaghan
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