Deep into the heart of the very good documentary CITIZENFOUR, one single shot (quite frankly one of the most effective to come out of the year’s filmmaking, period) captures its complicated subject. Edward Snowden, the now-infamous whistleblower responsible with releasing damning evidence of America’s central intelligence exploiting its citizens’ digital privacy, twiddles his thumbs in a small hotel room in Hong Kong.
The film runs through before, during, and after Snowden, formerly a government worker, decided to give up his silence to report what he saw as a violation of American rights. We literally watch him become a fugitive right in front of us (along with the shock wave that radiates through the media as a result), and a little bit of the impact can be credited to the period-piece model. In the said shot, Snowden sits on the edge of his bed, glaring at the television screen opposite him bearing one of the hundreds news channels covering his story. The immediate effect serves the matter of time, provoking us to recall when we didn’t know this man’s name. A more thorough, and I think better, way of looking at this single moment of the movie is the stark contrast. A blank message is read off a teleprompter about a figure who’s nothing but the backs he’s stabbed, and the figure himself, in the flesh, watches, his presence seeming to mock the former persona by itself. His eyes are racing, his thoughts are conflicted, his emotions are torn between his family and his mission… yes. He’s human.
With CITIZENFOUR, all of the maddened feeding tubes we’ve considered to be news in the past feel second-hand in comparison. No talking heads or empty aerial views clutter the space. I would call it minimalism, but the results are more rich and in-depth than what traditional documentaries could achieve. Encrypted emails sent from Snowden to the documentarian are read in monotone voiceover. The whistleblower scrolls through programs used to tap into text messages and other social media in an as-a-matter-of-fact fashion. When the film throws its raw elements out at us (for which it sometimes sacrifices direction), there’s no headline to show us what’s supposed to be important. It works the opposite way, giving us everything first and the decision after.
It’s the transparency that makes us so anxious. When so much of the action is unfolding before the camera, the threats that the government pose look like they could bring the damage at any moment. Of course, it’s in the back of our heads to tie this fact back in to Snowden’s motive and what he wanted us to know, and it would be more toward the center if the thing wasn’t so darn suspenseful. There’s a sense of confinement to the setting, and it’s scary. We like it, and we don’t expect a documentary to be this engaging. Even when the hotel runs a routine test for the fire alarm, our minds immediately jump to the possibility of getting caught. The sensitivity is amplified tenfold.
It’s my favorite part about the movie. It has enough to make itself fascinating, and it does just that. There’s no reason the format shouldn’t be cool if the content can take it there. We really feel like we’re on to something.
And yet, the suspense isn’t the prime accomplishment of the film, however enjoyable it may be. More than any documentary I’ve watched, the most interesting character unfolds out of Snowden, shocking because it’s real and real because it’s shocking. Do I know if the government should be allowed to spy on our citizens for promoting the public good? I don’t know after watching the movie. I feel like I’m not choosing one side or another from a persuasive essay in CITIZENFOUR but instead listening to an argument in a historic battleground from one brave life that we can understand. Being detached from the politics of it, I might not be one to contribute to the debate itself, but I’m sure interested in watching what this man has to say and how he wants to say it.
