Director Raymond Depardon
12 DAYS (12
Jours)
A-
France (87 mi) 2017 d: Raymond Depardon
Among the director’s more astute works, this is a bitterly
uncomfortable but astoundingly human film, one that offers unique insight into the
human condition. The 75-year old photographer, photojournalist, and
documentary filmmaker has been making films since the early 60’s, though in his
career as a photojournalist he traveled around the globe covering all the major
news stories, from Vietnam to the fall of the Berlin Wall to wars in the Middle
East and Africa, where his documentary films are an extension of that social
commitment, developing a reputation for displaying a keen observational
eye. What inspired this film is a 2013 law that passed in France
requiring anyone involuntarily admitted to a psychiatric hospital should appear
before a judge within 12 days to evaluate their status, and again every six
months afterwards, so that the psychiatric reports were not the sole
determining factor in evaluating a patient’s opportunity for freedom.
Some 92,000 patients, or about 250 per day, are placed in psychiatric care
without their consent each year in France. Granted access to these
hearings for the first time, Depardon filmed 72 hearings at the Vinatier
Hospital in Lyon, with ten of them making their way into the film, using three
cameras, one facing the judge, another facing the patient along with their
attorneys, while a third overlooked the entire courtroom. There are
additional auxiliary shots around the hospital grounds, though there is no
narration or accompanying explanatory remarks other than an introductory
reference to the law. Not sure any other films come to mind that feature
an unfiltered dialogue between mental health patients, attorneys, and a judge,
though Depardon’s earlier film EMERGENCIES (Urgences) (1988) shows patients
arriving at the psychiatric ward of the hospital, where the film seems more
interested in the spaces people inhabit while they are being interrogated, many
of them for criminal offenses, becoming a portrait of what takes place overall
in the building than an exclusive expression of the patients themselves.
In addition, John Huston made a little seen WWII war documentary LET THERE BE
LIGHT (1946) showing the psychiatric treatment of war veterans suffering
psychological damage of PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) from the war, a
film suppressed for 35 years due to issues of confidentiality, only released in
1980. Suffice it to say, this is not a well-documented subject in cinema,
revealing a starkly bleak landscape.
Due to the serious nature of the subject matter, witnessing
courtroom procedures, completely unembellished, there were many walk outs
during the screening, as some could simply not endure what they see, but this
is offers a profound understanding into what routinely transpires with
psychiatric patients, some of which, due to the circumstances, is simply heart
rendering. Unlike a Frederick Wiseman film, which Depardon’s unfiltered
style resembles, though more concise, this film does contain gorgeous musical
interludes composed by Alexandre Desplat, some of it sounding like the piano
music of Eric Satie, but also using symphonic orchestration adding more
ponderous moments of somber reflection. The opening shot, a slow pan down
the hospital corridors, taking all necessary turns until arriving just outside
the courtroom door, reveals the polished shine of carefully waxed floors,
resembling Weerasethakul’s intoxicating camera style in SYNDROMES AND A CENTURY
(2006) that also peers down hospital corridors, revealing an emptiness that is
soon filled. The first thing we notice is that a patient’s train of
thought is often interrupted by the judge, presumably to maintain control,
preventing lengthy soliloquies, yet it’s clear patients only have a brief
window of opportunity to express themselves, as judges have the final word in
their courtrooms. Usually judges introduce the purpose of the hearings,
making sure patients are aware what’s at stake and their right to appeal, yet
in every single instance the preponderance of medical evidence obtained from
psychiatric records recommended continued hospital treatment, as no one was
allowed their freedom to go home. Nonetheless, each felt their continued
confinement was unfair, believing they would do better on the outside, even the
ones who acknowledged the seriousness of their illness and a need for continued
treatment. For instance, one patient wanted to be released so she could
jump off a third story building and end it all, believing it was unfair for the
hospital to prevent her from doing that. What’s perhaps surprising is
that this patient request was communicated with utter sincerity, where there
was no mistaking her intent, suggesting she’d spent a lot of time contemplating
this issue, complaining of living endlessly with a pain inside that never went
away, where this was her preferred solution. The court did not
agree. Another man continually hears voices, “the voice of the electric chair,”
claiming he couldn’t hear a word the judge was saying, as he’d obviously been
confined for a lengthy period and would no doubt spend much, much more.
One woman breaks into tears the moment she’s allowed to
speak, distraught over the fact it took 12 people to overpower and subdue her
from an incident at work, claiming severe workplace harassment, regretting,
however, that if she’s not released, she’ll miss the city’s infamous Lumière
Film Festival, something she looks forward to every year. Another woman
contends she cut herself to avoid the pain of repeated rapes, but didn’t mean
any harm to herself, claiming she missed the vital organs, while a rather
fidgety man believed his neighbor was a terrorist, confiscating his gun to
ensure he didn’t carry out heinous acts. One man believes the punishment
is too harsh, acknowledging he punched a man in the head, but it was only once,
while another asks the judge to contact his father, who normally shies away
from legal proceedings, asking him to come visit, sure he’ll provide his full
support, as he believes he’s ready to return home. Only afterwards, in
offhanded comments from the judge, do we learn that the man is apparently
unaware that he killed his father many years ago, which led to his original
criminal sentencing. Perhaps the most affecting case is a woman seen near
the end, viewed on the grounds earlier walking up to the film crew thanking
them for a coffee, as she would otherwise not be able to afford one, where
she’s desperate to be reunited with her infant daughter. She claims she
is an orphan herself, knowing what it means to be without a parent, wanting to
love and provide for her daughter’s needs, provide food, change her diaper, and
be a presence in her life, as her daughter needs a mother, contending she’s
down to a single medication, believing she could survive on the outside with
regular psychiatric intervention, that keeping her away from her daughter is
simply unthinkable. This was an excruciatingly impassioned plea, where
words just flew out of her mouth in hopes that someone would finally listen,
only to be deterred once again in a profoundly painful moment. Between
hearings we’d see patients walking the grounds, some smoking cigarettes, with
obligatory iron gates surrounding the area, appearing like animals in
cages. What might be surprising is the degree of candor provided by those
suffering from mental illness, who are inherently honest and open, never shying
away from the seriousness of their condition, where they make compelling arguments
for their release, sounding much like something we might say if we were in
their position, with many viewers probably sympathizing, as that could be us,
or anyone we know, where there are no visible signs of a serious problem.
This is what makes this issue so complicated, as the problem is largely
invisible. In one of the most moving films you’ll ever see, this is a
mature work, with Depardon also using a pastoral view, providing a hint of
artistry with a particularly affecting shot of a tree-lined street shrouded in
a morning fog, with trees moving in and out of view, where it’s hard to find
clarity through the mist.
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