Documentary: A Fiction (Un) Like Any Other

Note: I wrote this article because of the massive influx of health documentaries we’ve seen recently. But this lesson in the representation of reality spans the genre, and is worth our consideration. So, we begin…

+++

I remember an argument in third grade about whether “based on a true story” movies were really “true,” or not. 

It was a simple question: Are “based on a true story” movies, really… real?

A third grade playground theoretical discussion ensued.

Of course, most adults will admit that non-fiction films are just a *construction* of reality: the span of someone’s life condensed into a two hour narrative, for instance, is admittedly one-dimensional, even when the most painstaking attention to detail and fact is taken when representing the historical moment.

I remember feeling really sad about this. When I came to the realization that “based on a true story” movies weren’t really… “real….” I felt let down, like I had been lied to.

Thanks goodness for the documentary though, right?

Well, it’s not *that* simple…

Documentaries present themselves as reality, or as arguments directed towards the historical world — as arguments for “what is.”

The lines between reality and representation, fact and fiction, are blurred here. Facts are chosen and arranged by the documentarians, and yet, for every piece of incontrovertible evidence, more than one argument can be fashioned. In this, documentary is much like fiction, but it relies on different forms, procedures, and strategies to achieve its end.

In “Representing Reality,” Bill Nichols writes:

“Documentaries are fictions with plots, characters, situations, and events like any other. They offer introductory lacks, challenges, or dilemmas; they build heightened tensions and dramatically rising conflicts, and they terminate with resolution and closure. They do all this with reference to a “reality” that is a construct, the product of signifying systems, like the documentary film itself. Like the constructed realities of fiction, this reality, too, must be scrutinized and debated as part of the domain of signification and ideology. The notion of any privileged access to reality that exists “out there,” beyond us, is an ideological effect. The sooner we realize all this, the better… Once we embark upon the presentation of an argument, we step beyond evidence and the factual to the construction of meaning.” (pp. 107, 117)

Documentaries (and non-fiction film) put things together in a way that helps us make sense of the world. They are rooted in meaning and purpose. When a documentary rubs against our own narratives of what reality is, the knee-jerk reaction is to write it off; to discard the evidence. When it jives with our world view, the tendency is to elevate it as truth. In both cases, we are wrong. In both cases, we are making the mistake of elevating a powerful medium of communication — a set of signifiers and signs — to the level of reality. 

And yet, intriguing as it is to be a total nihilist (we can never know reality!), our access to historical reality may only be by means of representation: film, photography, writing, sculpture, art, etc. So, though it may be worthwhile to see documentaries, in particular, as disingenuous representations of reality writ large, it is not beyond the possibility of the documentary to bring truth to light.

So, with the above in mind, next time you feel swayed by the power of the documentary, take it with a grain of salt. Reality is much larger and more nuanced than what is portrayed on the screen.