In Rithy Panh's most commercial outing to date, Meeting with Pol Pot continues the auteur's cinematic theorems on the cataclysmic operations of the Khmer Rouge. A formidable cast of French-heavy weights illustrates the hypocrisy of a self-proclaimed egalitarian society. Panh is rightfully uninterested in condemning Marxism or communist infrastructure. Instead, Meeting with Pol Pot examines the warping and subsequent re-writing of a powerful ideology. A cast of francophone journalists (as performed by Irène Jacob, Grégoire Colin, & Cyril Gueï) ruminate upon the ethics and imbalances of a power-hungry revolution. Set during the 1970s, before the invention of iPhones and non-analogous recording devices; Panh's direction emphasises the danger of reportage. The publication of war crimes and cleansing efforts were met with life-or-death consequences. Instead of dictating the film's chronology through a Cambodian perspective, Panh deliberately delves into the infrastructure of the infamous party through a strictly foreign lens. As a by-product of the film's innovative form, Meeting with Pol Pot continuously experiments with Panh's signature stylings — interrogating the persistence of propaganda & nationalist pride through the implementation of fourth-wall breaking techniques.
Best known for his mimetic miniatures in non-fiction cinematic excavations of genocide in films such as Everything Will Be OK (2022) & The Missing Picture (2013), Panh once again implements effective hand-made recreations within the confines of historical-fiction. Near the start of the film, the Parisian journalists step-foot inside a propaganda factory. Paintings and sculptures are cultivated from the gleaming image of the titular leader. Subsequently, the camera gazes upon the construction of the miniatures. Clay figurines emblematic of the Khmer Rouge roam the diorama space. Pahn digs deeper into the symbology behind the life-less figurines, utilising the dioramas to visually demonstrate the atrocities once hidden from the Western gaze. The dioramas also signify a form of dissociation of the journalistic perspective; as they promenade through a tampered tour of manipulated fabrications.
The artifice of the figurines emulates the deceptive web of governmental malpractice. Crimes unseen are also referenced within Panh's rich archive of news footage, propaganda, and other miscellaneous anthropological footage. Reminders of the nation's history are literally projected in the most unlikely of places; intercut with the scripted drama. In one affecting beat, during the dead of night, Panh projects images of Khmer Rouge congregations upon a wind-stricken curtain. The archive of re-contextualised images represents an insomniac veil of state surveillance. The safety of the journalist's bodily autonomy becomes compromised as a bi-product of the recurring found footage. In the third act, an idiosyncratic driving scene is shot with the same practical techniques of an old Hollywood picture. Cambodian footage is projected behind the vehicle; as an actor falsely manoeuvres the automobile in the foreground. Adjacently, the usage of silhouettes behaves as an antagonistic presence; symbolising the inhumanity of the country's leadership. Thus, the complete physical visage of Pol Pot is never revealed to the camera.
Precise realism regarding the compositional execution isn't Panh's primary creative interest. The artifice of cinema, with the implementation of the archive in consideration, provides a unique clash between the images of the past and the images of our collective present. In regards to the narrative wavelength, Panh's progression unfortunately reaches broken-record territory, just before the film's detour towards the titular climax. The repetitiveness needlessly elongates the political introspections. Expository dialogue only undercuts the evocative form; diminishing the acquisition of found-footage and miniatures in favor of a more traditionalist storytelling approach. More evidently, Marc Marder's musical accompaniment manipulates the intensity of the images, providing overt emotional guidance in the process. The intrusiveness of the musical compositions insults the audience's intelligence — executed as an instructional to emotionally empathise with the harshness of the hidden Genocide. The score ultimately distracts from the naturalism of the performances and accompanying directorial methods.
Nearly reaching new artistic heights within Panh's eclectic filmography, Meeting with Pol Pot provides sufficient intrigue as a loose adaptation of Elizabeth Becker's When the War is Over. Panh's reappropriation of found footage provides the film's harrowing introspection — forcing the spectator to interrogate the images on display. More prevalently, within its tale of political-oriented cleansing & state complicity, Panh encourages the viewer to associate the crimes against humanity with our current social-political climate. Even with all of its flaws, Meeting with Pol Pot urgently represents a story about the manipulation of media against the backdrop of state genocide. We look into our past, to fix our present. As the apocalyptic bombs drop from the clutches of a terrorist state, the innocent Palestinians in Rafah face Israel's final solution. The images of the Khmer Rouge carry a reminiscent repetition — as the Western world turns their eye away from the holocaust of innocent Palestinian children. Just like in Rithy Panh's cinematic study, humanity cannot look away from the atrocity. We are all complicit.
