When Michael Franti mentioned in the opening scenes of his new film I Know I’m Not Alone (you can buy it here) that he was growing “frustrated” at the reporting on the Middle East, I could relate. I can’t say I’ve always been political, and I wish I could proudly confess that I’ve always been aware and concerned about what was going on in the world. The truth is, I used to avoid reading or watching the news in South Africa, and I remember complaining to my step father that there should be a “good news” newspaper out there, as if the media were supposed to stop reporting the bad stuff and everything would be fine. When the fall of apartheid exposed whites for the first time to the crime that had plagued black communities for decades, you became desensitized and frustrated at the monotony of reporting, and preferred instead just to close my eyes, at least for a while.
Fortunately for us, Franti wants to keep his eyes wide open. Taking a camera, a few friends, and his guitar, he heads to Iraq, Palestine and Israel, hoping to bypass the politicians and the soundbites and speak to the people on the ground, see how they live and listen to what they think. He talks to taxi drivers, shop owners, families, children, musicians, soldiers - the everyday people who rarely, if ever, have a voice on television. I could probably count the number of documentary films that have truely moved me through their simplicity and power on one hand. This most certainly belongs at the top, and I wouldn’t mind calling this one of the most lovely pieces of film I have ever witnessed.
First and foremost, Franti is a poet, so the film is layered with his songs and lyrics reflecting the world he sees and hears around him, and his ideas and thoughts about that world. Of course, Franti goes out of his way to try and find musicians in each location: in Iraq, a death metal band; in Palestine, a trio of hiphop artists; in Israel, he jams with an excellent group of Israeli musicians.
One of the wonderful things about a smile and music is that they’re excellent ways to break down barriers between cultures. Time and again, he is welcomed with open arms into families singing “Habibi” (an Arabic term for showing someone you love them), bringing smiles and laughter to children running along rubble-strewn streets and pock-marked buildings. Generally, though, it seems as if his music is Franti’s way of expressing himself to the viewer. While he himself does sometimes talk to the camera directly or with a voiceover, or he speaks to those he meets, it is the voices of the people he meets that have center stage: Franti sings about what he thinks, but we hear from them what they live and feel.
What is highly enjoyable is that Franti is not trying to impose his thoughts or ideas on the people who are living through occupation or terror. As he explains towards the end, he doesn’t want to choose sides, except for the sides of the “peacemakers”. He just wants to know what they think and, in turn, to let them tell us, the viewer. When ex-Saddam dissidents tell him that if Iraq invaded America, and Americans fought back, they would be considered to be fighting for their country instead of being terrorists, or when someone else tells him the Americans should leave, he doesn’t attempt to argue or justify what’s happening. Nor, when he plays to a room of American soldiers, does he try and judge them even though it’s clear that Franti doesn’t agree with the reasons that they’re there. The film is more effective in its subtlety and non-confrontational style, something that a number of documentary makers could learn from.
There are some genuinely touching moments that are inspirational testimonies of the human spirit, one of the most poignant being towards the end when a Palestinian and Israeli soldier talk to one another about the possibilities for peace and friendship. Religion, says the Israeli soldier, must not be part of the government of either side otherwise that leads to trouble. There’s a nodding of heads, and understanding between two people portrayed as mortal enemies.
All in all, I cannot recommend this film highly enough. It is exceptional, and deserves to be watched all over the world because its message is cultureless and timeless. From the Israeli army dissenters courageously speaking out, to the Palestinian mother who sleeps on the street because she’s afraid her house will be demolished around her; from the Israeli and Palestinian families who’ve lost loved ones and have come together to find forgiveness, to the Iraqi taxi driver who just wants peace. There are beautiful tales here that deserve to be heard, and to be witnessed by eyes that should no longer be closed.
Subscribe