Iraq in Fragments is the first documentary about the war in Iraq without a political agenda. Through a series of three half-hour shorts, one-man film crew James Longley moves us from the uneasy and embittered streets of Sunni Baghdad to the activist mosques and armed militias of Shiite-controlled Naseriyah, then north to the relatively tranquil Kurdish farming town of Koretan. In each episode, Longley favors immersion over exposition, showing the audience the Iraqi experience through its diverse people and landscape instead of outlining the country's media-filtered position in the geopolitical realm.
The first episode, “Mohammed of Baghdad,” follows eleven-year-old Mohammed, a boy apprenticing at the workshop of a paternal yet belittling mechanic; the mechanic chides the boy for not being able to complete the first grade after five years. A series of ruminative voice-over narrations reveal the boy’s conflicting desires: to work and support his family, to learn so he can become a good worker, and to escape to a more beautiful place. As this impasse becomes more apparent, Mohammed’s boss becomes more aggressive and hurtful, and the boy is tossed aside as another pawn in a dictatorial game, a microcosm of what hasn’t changed since Saddam Hussein controlled Baghdad.
Part two, “Sadr’s South,” counters by tossing the audience into the thick of the Shiite uprising. Longley trails Sheik Aws, a young cleric under Shiite leader Moqtada al-Sadr, as he organizes Sadr’s followers in Naseriyah into an organized political force. The footage in this section includes marches of self-flagellation, the Shiite explanation for their desire to create a local government without Sunni involvement, and an armed raid of a market where forbidden alcohol is being sold during the holy month of Ashura. As the militia becomes more active, Longley loses direct access to the sheik and dives headlong into the insurgency.
The final segment, “Kurdish Spring,” eases back into the more meditative tone of the film’s start. Again, it tracks a young boy, the handsome and driven student Suleiman, as he juggles responsibilities of school, tending to his aging father’s sheep, and working in the town’s brick ovens. We witness the faint optimism of the Kurds, relieved to have an opportunity to finally wrest themselves from oppression, but fearful that at any moment, they could lose the peace they have won. The segment reveals a blunt generational gap between the country’s adults and children: a town elder declares, “the future of Iraq will be in three pieces;” then in voice-over Suleiman wonders, “how can you cut a country into three pieces? With a saw?” The rolling hills and patches of grass and snow, segued with scenes of children playing and working in the brick ovens, argue that the only certainty is the continued passage of time.
Longley shapes each of his shorts like a Terrence Malick tone poem. Filmed with a relatively inexpensive digital camera that can shoot at the 24 frames-per-second pace of most Hollywood productions, Longley portrays his subjects with a languorous, storybook intimacy that most DIY productions don’t use. Moreover, the camera captures a gorgeous array of colors in widescreen; sun-soaked green and purple flags flutter with a hyper-realistic metallic sheen, and the sudden shift from the dirty streets and rubble of southern Iraq to the earthy, bucolic north implies as much about the country’s fractious nature as its people do.
