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Patricio Henríquez: I was working in television in Chile before the coup d'état in 1973. I had passed from journalism into documentary already, but I had just made two little pieces before the coup d'état. So when I came here to Montreal, that was a little bit difficult at the beginning, because I didn't speak French at all and my English was as bad as today. One year passed, which is not too much, but at the time it was like an eternity to me, just doing a lot of jobs working in factories and things like that. But I was very lucky that I contacted with some people, filmmakers here who helped me from the beginning. And I can't complain. I got to do my job—my passion.How old were you when you left Chile?
When I arrived here in Montreal, I was 25.How did the overthrow of the Chilean government affect your career as a filmmaker?
Of course, I was very engaged with the Allende government at that time. Living in Chile, you couldn't be neutral. You had to have a position. For me, it was not very difficult, because the family I grew up in, my father was a leftist and in the socialist party of Salvador Allende, so I grew up in this reality. When I went to university I was a militant in the socialist party. I began to work as a journalist, and in the first year I was the press attaché for the first lady. I was 22-years-old, she proposed me that, because we used to work for the Allende campaign, and when he won the election, she proposed me that. Of course I accepted. Twenty-two years old and working in the presidential palace. I could just stay there one year. I liked the experience but I knew I didn't want to just be a spin doctor. I wanted to make documentaries and work in television. So in '71, I worked in television, first as a journalist, and then I became involved in the production of documentaries there.
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One of the characters [in my film, the group's translator] Rushan Abbas, she came to Montreal for the premiere. She was key to making this film. The guys trusted her, not me. But she said that she trusted me because she believed that I could understand them, even if we came from such different realities. I was really moved by what she said.
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I was making a film, the one before the one on Khadr, which was called Under the Hood. This is a film on torture. Of course I was reading everything important related with that, and naturally Guantánamo was a source for me. I remember I read just in the news, I think it was the Washington Post or the New York Times, and they were talking about Uyghurs—that was the first time I even read about them, I didn't know who they were. They were telling the story in 2006 about one of the first groups, if not the first group, to be released from Guantánamo by the US government. (I'm not sure, because they released a lot of other people secretly.) This for me was the first public acknowledgement that they were releasing a group. That was a surprise because, at the time, they were telling everybody and convincing everybody that Guantánamo was the worst of the worst. And then, not only they were released, they were sent to Albania. So I started to read up on them, and their situation in China. Everybody I told the story to had the same feeling as me, that this is a fascinating story to tell in cinema. I have political convictions that came from my past, but I am convinced that you don't make a film just with political convictions. So many times you have films that are a political work, but maybe they're not good cinema or film.
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These Uyghurs, they never really knew why they were living what they were living. They didn't even—even if they were in Afghanistan for 9/11, they didn't know what was happening in New York. Because they were isolated, and they didn't speak the language of Afghanistan. So they knew nothing. And when the first [US] bombing came, they didn't understand what was happening. Everybody fled, so they just did that. Then they began to understand what was happening with them once they were in Guantánamo. Just this part of the film—people knowing nothing about their destiny, and a lot of other people deciding for them. They don't know that they are the subject of discussion about the war in Iraq. These people were not intended to come to Guantánamo, or to come to Bermuda. They never dreamed about that. So they are just, as one of the characters says, they were just pawns in a chess game. Everybody was playing with them until today.The most absurd thing, to me, was that for a good part of that time, they didn't even know that they were technically free. Or at least, deemed not enemy combatants. There was just nowhere for them to go.
The other part of the story for me was that I could talk a little bit about China. About international relations, about how China is directing so many things today. [In the case of] our government, and Mr. Harper, Canada was asked to help by the American government. They proposed to us to accept Uyghurs. If the request had been made in 2004 when Harper had just arrived, he probably could have accepted them, because of their ideals' [appeal] to him—they are anti-communist, pro-capitalist, and liked the western countries. They see the United States and Canada as their allies against China.
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I had read their story before going there. I had the wonderful cooperation of the lawyers in the United States who defended them, the civil lawyers who went to Guantánamo, [two of whom are in the film]. They helped me a lot and even shared with me their own research, which was very accurate because they're lawyers. They sent me all the materials they had that allowed me to understand a lot of things. Of course I couldn't talk about a lot of the things. I knew who were, for me, the most interesting, and actually the three of them were in my short list. Some of them are really humble people, who were really shy to talk in from of the camera. I just lost one person who I found very interesting, but he didn't want to participate, more for security reasons, because he feared for his family in China. I could understand that.You've explored Guantánamo before in the case of Omar Khadr and your exploration of the torture in Under the Hood. The fact that you've done these films, how difficult is it to get access? Does it help or hinder your process?
Thank you for this question, because nobody has asked me that. American society is so rich. And rich for me in that the kind of society that's able to live with contradictions. For me, if you have contradictions in a society, then the health of the democracy is good. The US made horrible things, in Guantánamo, in this world, but inside the system, you have people that are so honest, so clear, so transparent. I'm talking about the Special Envoy to Close Guantánamo, named by Obama. He's just extraordinary. When you talk with diplomats in every country, it's so difficult to get something interesting from them. And surely, he didn't tell me everything, but what he told us, told this film, is incredible. It's somebody who isn't denying that Guantánamo is a mistake. I'm happy that the American society isn't just Bush and Dick Cheney and people like that, it's also the lawyers who went there—lawyers who worked for this big company in Boston defending big companies. [The bankruptcy lawyer representing the Uyghurs] is really genuinely attached to human rights. Later, after the film was finished, he told me that, "My flag was flying over a place where we were torturing human beings." These people deserve a documentary about them: 500 lawyers going to defend the enemy, the worst of the worst, just because they wanted to make sure the law was respected. Incredible.Do you have people coming to you now with more stories, cover-ups, etc.?
It's hard making a documentary about the US because there are so many great documentary filmmakers there. But, what is a very moving thing is that, when we presented the film here in Montreal for the first time. The small community, about 50 Uyghur families who live here, a part of them came to support the film. At the end, and old Uyghur came to see me and he said, "Thank you very much," and had a tear in his eye, and he told me this sentence: "Thank you for telling our story. Thank you for keeping our memory. Because we don't have filmmakers to do that." And I had never thought about that. Maybe you have people in the diaspora trying to do that. But in China, of course, even if they exist, they will never have support to make films. It's a responsibility for me. And they are inviting me to tell more stories on the Uyghurs. Unlike in Tibet, they don't have the Dali Lama, so no one knows about them. It's something that I consider seriously because I respect them.Follow Chris Bilton on Twitter.