Israeli journalist Dror Moreh’s film about the six men who have run the Shin Bet, Israel’s ultra-secret internal security agency, is not only the best documentary of this very strong year for non-fiction films but the year’s best picture. With the skill and craftsmanship of a veteran filmmaker, Moreh’s second feature (his first was about Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon) is the kind of straightforward, perfectly structured talking-head film that most documentarians don’t seem to have the confidence in their medium to make these days.
The Shin Bet is Israeli’s equivalent to the American FBI. It is an organization so secretive and classified that its chief is the only identified member of the organization at any given time, and the men who have served in this capacity are not known for talking about their work, either while serving or after stepping down. This makes the film unprecedented in terms of its access: Moreh somehow convinced all six surviving heads of the Shin Bet to sit down for extensive first–person interviews that seem to have no restrictions on topics or the types of questions asked.
The candid and extensive statements these men give on camera are jaw-dropping. Never have I seen such direct answers to questions in a documentary of this type. Pressing when he needs to press, Moreh keeps the film as free of himself and his voice as possible, letting the six men carry the narrative, but it is clear from what they say that he came to these interviews prepared with the right questions and follow-ups.
But what makes the film truly great is its structure. Moreh and editor Oron Adar have organized the film into seven segments that lay out the history of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict in roughly chronological order, from the Six-Day War to the present, with all six men commenting on all eras. The stories and views of these men are edited together in a way that makes the events described, and the complexity of their meaning, completely comprehensible and nuanced even to those who know very little about Israel’s history. This is not to say that the film or its subjects offer any easy answers or practical solutions to these intractable problems. On the contrary, what makes the film so brilliant is how well it conveys the near impossibility of positive outcomes in terms of a long-range strategy, as well as the necessity and morality (and amorality) of the actions these men have taken in the name of protecting their country from terrorism.
Through the brilliant juxtaposition of one anecdote with another, the film constantly adjusts the viewer's sympathies and judgments about the Shin Bet's actions, toggling us back and forth between hawkish and dovish, depending on the situation described. Accomplishing this over and over again is impressive, and it not only imparts an understanding of these men and the awesome responsibility of their jobs but also sheds a remarkable amount of light on the futility of fighting a “war on terror.”
Interspersed with these interviews is archival film footage with effectively designed CGI and the best use of 3D animation of still photography I have seen in a documentary to date. Moreh uses still photos--some of which play a key role in the events described--as a way of recreating events without ever stooping to staging a re-enactment. You never lose sight of the fact that you are seeing CG manipulation of a still image, but the technique enables the film to clearly illustrate what the men are saying while maintaining full credibility in the truth of the image. This is exactly how CGI techniques should be used in documentary filmmaking: not to make a film flashy, or enhance it in some artificial way, but to give visual information and context when there is no archival film available. Moreh maintains the proper proportion of CGI to talking-head footage and spends most of his time on the faces of the men as they talk, which in most cases is infinitely more revealing than any film clip or graphic could be.
Amazingly to me, Moreh has claimed that he was inspired to make this film by seeing Errol Morris’s abysmal 2003 Oscar-winning documentary The Fog Of War: Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara—a film about dropping bowling balls down a stairwell and filming them with a high-speed camera [and, oh yeah... it also contains an extensive, self-serving interview with former US Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara which Morris edits with such maddening randomness and pollutes with so much of his usual “artistic” visual garbage that the film onlyadds to the fog surrounding McNamara and America’s involvement in Vietnam, rather than clarifying any of it.] Wherever Moreh drew his inspiration from, I am thrilled that he has not adopted Morris’s style. He seems to have complete confidence in his subjects and the format of the talking-head documentary and relies on his own ability to ask the right questions rather than jazzing up unsatisfactory answers with animation and extraneous fluff.
This is not to imply that the six men in The Gatekeepers do not have their own self-serving motivations for appearing in this film, but especially when you view them collectively, it is clear that these men have a greater agenda than their own selves. They all fear for the future security of Israel, and since they are the men who have been largely responsible for maintaining that security, what they have to say carries a lot of weight.
Moreh does not fall victim to the other great sin of the modern documentary: the belief that a film must cover as much information from as many perspectives as possible in order to present the whole truth. It is just the opposite. Documentary films, like narrative films, succeed best when they can take on a multifaceted story through the narrowest of lenses: an individual, a couple, or a small group. The goal of non-fiction cinema should be to bring awareness of and perspective about an issue or subject to a mass audience, not to be the final word on it. (Take a look at this year’s well-meaning and serviceable documentary about the US's war on drugs and the prison system, The House I Live In, for a perfect example of an important film that diminishes itself by trying to cover too much). Watching a two-hour movie is not the same as devoting years to studying a subject, and you're not going to get the whole story from a movie, but a film that's done right can impart a lot of important truths. I’m sure one could offer an equally compelling history of Israeli security told through the eyes of, say, the last six Prime Ministers (if they were all alive) that would feel very different from this film but perhaps contain as much valuable insight. I doubt, though, that any politician of any country would be as up-front and genuine as the six men in this documentary appear to be.
One does not need to be passionately involved with the cause of Israel to be moved by The Gatekeepers; there is much to be gained from this film for people of any country, especially the US. As we confront new and old issues like terrorism, the separation of church and state, the use of drones, gun violence, political focus for short-term tactical brinkmanship rather than long-term strategy, and the unwillingness of our citizenry to compromise our ideals in the best interest of our nation, this film could easily be about us.
Twitter Capsule:A documentary of impressive craftsmanship, access, and forethought, Dror Moreh’s film about the six men who have run the Shin Bet takes on a multifaceted story through a narrow lens to create one of the most fascinating explorations of the history of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict committed to film.