Rating: ***1/2Geoffrey H. Malins is probably one of the most influential filmmakers you’ve never heard of. His 1916 documentary, The Battle of the Somme, represented a great leap forward in the areas of filmmaking, war photography, reporting and, indeed, propaganda. But let that last one not diminish the impact that this film had when it was first released, or its historical significance nearly 100 years after the fact. Canadian filmmaker Yuval Sagiv has now revisited this documentary in a highly unusual way by exploring the blurring of the line between truth and propaganda while digging into Malins’ own conflicted background.
First of all, the movie is silent. The only sound is clacks and scratches of the old film, which is intercut with title cards containing bits of narrative or dialogue, like the films of the silent movie era in which The Battle of the Somme was released. The title cards are a mix of filmmaker researched information about Malins and the film, or excerpts from Malins book about the filming of the documentary and being the “Official Kinematographer” of the British forces on the front lines of the Great War. The conceit is pretty effective where in this new documentary feels like itself is a relic. It’s like someone put a disc of James Frey’s mea culpa interview with Oprah in the back of copies of A Million Little Pieces.
Honestly, it should come as no surprise that Malins staged some parts of his film to make it look more action-oriented then would have been possible in a way that wouldn’t get the cameraman shot in 1916. If that’s surprising it’s only because we expect people in the past to be more honest, or that the technology was so new, we think it had never occurred to anyone to exploit it. Or does anyone care? It’s common knowledge now that the picture of the American flag being raised over Iwo Jima was staged yet that doesn’t seem to rob the image of its power as a symbol. You still see it on motivational posters to this day after all. Even Sagiv seems to treat it as an afterthought as the famous charge “over the top” as a fake is only examined near the film’s end.
The really interesting parts of the documentary involve how Malins cut through the typical propaganda of the time by projecting a lot of realism in his work, as well as the sorted story of Malins himself. Malins, like Frey, seemed to play fast and loose with his origins, but fortunately for the filmmaker this was easier to get away with before the invention of the internet and Google. Still, the “spotty” history of Malins does nothing to belie this work he created. A work that, for its time, startlingly captured the horrors of the war front in an era where war was still romanticized. Trench life, in all its grime, was shown in a way that a lot of the era’s recruiting material tried to ignore. Despite Malins’ sleight of hand and the officials of the times’ editorial pruning in the interest of morale, the refreshing honesty of The Battle of the Somme still resonates a century later.
As for the film about the film, there’s an experimental quality that can, at times, be distracting. It’s seems as if Sagiv has created a director’s commentary for a silent film done in the style of that film’s original release, which creates an odd, post-modern twist in the way How I Filmed the War can be viewed. There are occasions when I think the art draws too much attention to itself, but Sagiv’s format is refreshing at the very least. But as well done as this film is in the way Sagiv made it, I would still love to see something with a little more analysis and distance; a true consideration of The Battle of the Somme and its impact on filmmaking. Perhaps Sagiv can next break new ground with a documentary sequel or remake.

