âMaybe we are asking you inopportune questions,â an elderly woman remarks. âIn our culture instead of disagreeing again and again over what something is, sometimes we get together as a group and ask everyone what else that thing could be.â
âSay that again, please?â Kristin asks.
âYes, instead of debating over and over about what a thing is, we talk about the possibilities of that thing, what else it could be, or what it could become. So, for example, your ethnographic film, your work, your art, what else could it be?â
The researchers look intrigued by the question.
âIt could be something that my students are truly excited about, as excited as they are when they go to the movie theater, or even as excited as I am when I make a film,â Simon says with sudden fervor in his words.
âViewers arenât excited to see your work?â
A quick flashback of images in Simonâs mind shows weary-looking students in a Âclassroom.
âNot always,â he responds laconically. âI donât think they get it sometimes.â
âFor me,â Kristin intervenes, âethnographic film could be something that families could watch together in their TV room, something ⌠not necessarily on TV but on some kind of library system, some kind of catalog that people could access on their TVs, on demand.â
âWe donât have this system that you speak of in our country,â a young man remarks.
âNeither do we,â Simon says wistfully, âmaybe one day in the future we will.â
âWhat could make more people excited about your films, people other than university students?â an Elder asks.
âWell, if it were ever possible Iâd love to work with sound recorders and cameras that are nearly as good as those of high-end productions. And not just that, but Iâd love to have a small portable helicopter so I could film some scenes from above. And small portable cameras that I could stick everywhere or even give to all of you to wear so I could record what you see, as you dance,â Kristin says with a daydreaming look on her face.
âIf that were possible,â Simon continues, âit could change what we do dramatically. Instead of us always filming you, you could film yourselves. And together we could make something very unique. This would be very democratic.â
The elderly woman in the corner observes: âThatâs all very well, but it sounds like a lot of work. I donât think I would want to have cameras attached to me. I have more important things to do. I have potatoes to grow and children that need my attention.â
âDoes that mean we would be famous movie stars?â a child interjects. People laugh.
âI donât think so,â answers Kristin, âbut if our films could change like that, then their value wouldnât just be judged in relation to anthropological theory anymore. Ethnographic film could be made for being shared with broader audiences, in many ways. And it might mean that our films could be more useful to you as well. They could be more easily appreciated in your schools and in your villages, they could be used to promote positive change in your communities and your nation, or at the very least they could be shown to your children and grandchildren, and eventually their children.â
âAnd maybe they wouldnât even need to be âfilmsâ necessarily,â Simon remarks, âif we had an easy tool for individuals to watch them alone, on their own, without the need for costly projection systems, they could even be short stories, short fragments, short testimonials that people could watch as individuals and then share with each other quickly. That way every viewer could almost create their own edit, in a way. These clips would be like multiple windows into peopleâs lives, short glances that donât require time-consuming amounts of production or post-production, but require the viewer to be active in watching.â
âOur village will never have a tool like that,â a young woman observes despondently.
âIf all of this were possible,â an Elder aks, âwould people like you still need to come here to film us?â
Awkward silence follows. The camera cuts to a medium shot of Simon and Kristin exchanging a perplexed look. Fade to black.
***
What our fictitious ethnographers, Simon and Kristin, daydreamed about some 30 years ago has now come true. What was a fantasy back then is now actuality. The definition of ethnographic film, while still contested, has broadened dramatically. Anthropology is no longer the sole proprietor of ethnographic film. Film has become more like video, and video has become film-like. Recording technologies have advanced to the point that even independent ethnographic filmmakers can compete with professional studios. Drones and point-of-view action camerasâcheap, portable, and incredibly easy to useâcan take viewers along journeys previously only available to the imagination. Omnipresent phone cameras have given billions of people around the globe the ability to document their own lives and the agency to tell their own stories. This has now confused roles and identities: the lines between the filmmakers and the filmed are now blurred. Moreover, interactive documentaries have enabled viewers to become actively involved in the consumption of ethnographic knowledge, putting them in the writerâs and editorâs seat. Add to that the fact that mobility patternsâof images, people, goods, and ideasâhave destabilized borders and rendered obsolete notions of locality, âexoticâ lands, audiences, and what constituted âthe fieldâ is now more unclear than ever. And then there is something that Kristin and Simon never quite envisioned 30 years ago (though somehow wished for): an âarchiveâ of on-demand content called the Internet. Either in the form of YouTube and Vimeo, Facebook and Instagram, iTunes or Kanopy, the Documentary Channel or Netflix, a colleagueâs blog or your favorite peer-reviewed journalâs website, the Internet has revolutionized not only how ethnographic film and videos are accessed, but why they are made and who they are made for.
It is in light of this zeitgeist that this handbook of ethnographic film and video has come to light. This is a handbook for a new world of ethnographic film and video, a collection of original writings intended for a new and remarkably diverse audience spanning across older disciplines and new fields of study, from anthropology, geography, sociology, education, and history to cultural studies, gender studies, environmental studies, media studies, and much more. But more importantly than disciplines or fields this is a handbook primarily intended for an audience who, for the most part, was not even born when the classics of ethnographic film were produced and released. This is an audience who has grown up with the Internet, with HD cameras at their fingertips, and with the ability to travel to no longer so-distant or âexoticâ lands with the simple swipe of a credit card or the click of a Skype icon. This is an audience who has become accustomed to living with screens, action cameras, and recorded sound pumped in the earphones for much of their day-to-day life. This is an audience, arguably, who is a lot less interested in diatribes over the value of ethnographic film than it is on actually watching it and enjoying it as much as they enjoyed that sleek doc they just played on Vimeo.
In light of the times, this handbook moves on many past and tired debates and parochial arguments over definitional matters. It moves on past the fetishism of the classics. It moves on beyond old hang-ups over style and expression, what ethnographers must and must not do out of fear of rejection. It moves to the point where video researchers and filmmakers have to defend themselves against the accusation that what they are doing is not serious because it is not done in writing. And it moves on past these issues not so much by attempting to come up with definitive answers and winning arguments, but rather by opening our collective arms to a flourishing variety of diverse art and science forms, diverse authors and makers, diverse subjects and collaborators, diverse tools, diverse goals, diverse audiences, diverse production processes and post-production strategies. It simply moves on by keepi...