By Alison Willmore | Indiewire April 16, 2013 at 1:12PM
On February 27, 2011, Tim Hetherington and Sebastian Junger were at the Academy Awards, where "Restrepo," the film they'd co-directed about a year in the life of a platoon stationed in one of the most dangerous areas of Afghanistan, was up for Best Documentary. Less than two months later, Hetherington was back in the field, covering the Libyan civil war, when he and fellow photojournalist Chris Hondros were killed by mortar fire in the city of Misrata. Hetherington was just 40 years old, but had already established himself with great talent and empathy in his work, documenting life and conflict in West Africa and Afghanistan, and winning multiple awards for his photo and video journalism.
Junger's new documentary "Which Way Is the Front Line from Here? The Life and Time of Tim Hetherington," which will premiere on HBO on Thursday, April 18 at 8pm, is both a celebration of and an elegy for Hetherington, a tribute to a friend and gifted colleague and to a life cut short. But it's also a quiet, compelling argument for the essential nature of on-the-ground reporting and the power of images, not just of war but of the people who endure it and whose lives are impacted and shaped by it. Indiewire spoke with Junger, who's covered combat himself in his work as a journalist for Vanity Fair and collected in his books "Fire" and "War," about the film.
The film makes a case for the importance of this work, but also makes clear the incredible price you can pay for it. It seems that as news outlets are going through this ongoing turmoil, it puts the stress more on the individuals going to the front lines. As a journalist, what are your thoughts on this shift?
Well, the fact that the news industry doesn’t have enough money to only send salaried staff to war zones means there is an enormous, wide-open opportunity for young people who want to be on staff and don’t know how to get there. It means you can go to a war zone with a camera or a notebook and pen and just create your own career, and that’s a very good thing. It’s how I started and that’s the way in for most people, and I really like that about the profession.
The only quibble I have about that is that the industry is having a free lunch in a way. It’s buying work piecemeal and has no legal responsibility for the freelancers they hire. When you can buy a photograph for $300 and not pay the photographer's airfare, insurance... I mean, the list is very long. At some point there should be a summit of the major media of this country where they decide some sort of minimum prices for photos or articles -- or at least just financial support. Something, some sort of financial support or medical training, which is something that I'm trying to provide, or insurance plan that these freelancers can buy into. Something that will protect the freelancers' interest a little bit, because you're not going to unionize and force the industry to go on strike. They're not gonna do it. They all feel too lucky to be over there getting $5 for something, so I think as the industry changes they should do the right thing and commit to minimum standards and a minimum pay scale.
Can you tell me a bit about the medical training you've been doing?
Tim had a wound that did not necessarily have to be fatal. He bled out, just died of loss of blood and no one knew what to do, and freelance reporters, which are probably 95% of the people who do this, don’t have any medical training. They don't have any money and they aren't forced to because they aren't salaried staff of a major media outlet, so no one around Tim knew what to do when he bled out. I found that out, that his wound didn't have to be mortal, that there are things you can do to slow down the loss of blood. Tim died minutes from a hospital. He wasn’t in the Gobi Desert.
When I found that out, I realized if I was with him I couldn’t have done anything cause I wouldn’t have known what to do, and that was true of just about everyone I knew, so I started a group called "Reporters Instructed in Saving Colleagues (RISC)." It's dedicated to providing combat medical training exclusively to experienced freelancers. You have to be freelance and you have to be already engaged in war reporting. You have to be coming back from somewhere. The lodging in New York is paid, the courses are paid for. It's all free, they just have to be here. There's a wait list, and we have 24 people at a time. We are working our way through the freelance war reporting field.
When you set out to make the film, did you have a sense of how you wanted to structure it?
We had this basic narrative question -- when do you tell the audience this person is going to die? It didn’t seem fair to make everyone wait until the very end, have everyone fall in love with this person and then kill him. That didn’t seem fair. It also seemed awkward and weird to treat his death at the beginning, get it over with, and then talk about his life. So we followed a classic narrative structure which is you begin at the end and then you cut it short before the end is resolved and go back and through the person’s life to where you left off. If we bracketed it with the circumstances of his death, it would keep people firmly aware of the seriousness of all this -- but in between there was some space to enjoy Tim as a person, to appreciate the way he lived.
Tell me a bit about Tim's approach to photography and war zones -- he didn't focus on the type of images we normally associate with combat coverage.
Tim realized that combat is very dramatic, obviously, but it’s not necessarily that interesting. It can be repetitive and mechanical, and a photo of a guy shooting a gun on Monday looks exactly like someone shooting a gun on Tuesday. From war to war, it's not that different and not that interesting, although it is enormously dramatic. He understood that some of the more interesting things happen when there is no shooting, in the human relations between people, in the emotional territory that exists in a situation that is that pressurized and intense. That's what he wanted to capture with his work and because he realized that he had an emotional focus that a lot of new journalists don't have. They think if it's not going "bang," that's not the point, and Tim realized that the opposite is true.
Do you think that viewers seeing those more traditional images develop a numbness to them?
I don’t think it's numbness. I think people mistake the experience for the content. It's very intense to be around shooting, so they think it makes their photos intense. Emotions make the photos intense -- Tim got that. So I don't think it's numbness, I think it's inexperience. Inexperienced journalists are more likely to fall prey to that.