After Fire centers on three women veterans in San Antonio as they open up about their experiences in the military and in re-adjusting to civilian life.
Within this premise, it stands nearly alone – when was the last time we saw a film, fictional or otherwise, confront wartime trauma through a female lens? The trailer for the documentary holds that “1 in 5 women veterans of recent wars suffer from PTSD” and that “1 in 4 report being victims of rape or other military sexual trauma.” It is the latter statistic which comes as more upsetting, if not surprising: 1 in 4. Knowing where we are in our discussion of sexual violence, how many more women don’t report their assaults?
It’s also the latter fact that would lend itself to focus and specificity – and a potentially compelling film. If our conversations around sexual assault on college campuses is just now reaching a level of some mass-interest (at least among those who read the Times) the conversation about the same violence within the military has not even begun. The disappointing thing about After Fire is that it seems mostly uninterested in starting that conversation. Trading in its narrow, succinct lens of female veterans’ perspectives and struggles for an uplifting tale of overcoming personal trauma, it hollows out much of whatever journalistic good might have been done in casting light on the issues involved – issues which remain half in shadow, underneath, throughout.
Still, Brittany Huckabee, our director and navigator, is not a journalist, and it’s clear that the movie she set out to make was meant to be a personal one. She doesn’t seem too interested in affecting nationwide discussion or policy changes. Her filmic technique, such as it is, depends on intimate conversations with her subjects – during which she, too is on camera – in dressing rooms and houses and the gym. She gets them to open up, and she opens up herself. In this way, After Fire follows the rhythm less of a modern documentary and more like an extended expose that would premiere on something like ESPN, if it was about a sport.
If you’ve watched any of those true-to-life tales, though, you know that they can pull on the heartstrings. Huckabee’s film can do the same, which is good, because that’s its intent, I think. You’ll end the journey, probably, with as much information about female-specific military trauma as you had when you went in, which is particularly disappointing in a medium that has helped define PTSD as an almost purely masculine phenomenon – from The Deer Hunter to American Sniper to this years’ Billy Lyn’s Long Halftime Walk, our understanding of post-war adjustment and struggle is almost entirely a male one. But you might also wind up with a tear or two rolling down your cheek. It may not be the film our female veterans deserve, but, if you want people to listen to your stories, the heart is a good place to start.
We screened the film at DOC NYC on Veteran’s Day.
-Nick Vincennes
