Happy Birthday to the National Front! For a long time, driven by the need to establish a dialogue around the Algerian War, René Vautier recorded the testimonies of Algerian independence activists, French conscripts and reservists, generals of the French army, historians... Thus, Mohamed Moulay, Ali Rouchaï, Mohamed Loulli, Germaine Tillion, Paul Teitgen, Pierre Vidal-Naquet, Colonel Antoine Argoud, General de Bollardière, and General Jacques Massu, among others, gave their testimony before Vautier’s camera. A documentary long unseen that reminds us where the National Front comes from, which changed its name and gained some respectability after Jean-Marie Le Pen’s leadership. Warning: The film is a rescued copy. The technical quality is degraded, but that is only a detail... The Man with Bloody Hands (by René Vautier) I had embarked on a historical project: recording on video tapes the “memories” of witnesses of the Algerian War, so that one day young students from France and Algeria could write together, in images, a common history of the relations between the two peoples. I was told about a man, in Saint-Eugène, who, despite having been tortured, had trouble asserting his pension rights because he had never been a member of the FLN. I interviewed him somewhat by chance: he told me about his tortures, and how, between sessions of “gégène” (electric torture) and “bathtub” (immersion torture), his torturers had pushed his thumbs into his eye sockets: “as if they wanted to make my eyes pop out.” Then I did what I always did: showed him a series of photos of paratrooper officers, to ask if he recognized his torturers. Very dignifiedly, he told me he could no longer see... but he added: “I have a paper from Mr. Mayor (the mayor of Algiers at the time was Jacques Chevalier, former Minister of Defense under Mendès-France) where the name of the paratrooper lieutenant is written.” That’s how I saw that the name he couldn’t read — he had gone blind due to the tortures — was that of Lieutenant Le Pen. I had Jacques Chevalier’s signature authenticated by his family members and people who had worked with him; I checked documents from the time — there was no doubt. Apparently, there is a law in France forbidding the use of testimonies about atrocities committed during the Algerian War. Let’s not be ridiculous: Austrians are suspected of putting at the head of their republic a man accused of having “covered up” tortures, and yet we should hide from the French documents that the whole world will feast on during the presidential elections? Because no law can prevent the whole world — except France! — from knowing that we will have a candidate not only with delirious statements but with bloody hands. This article was published in L’Humanité on September 29, 1987.

In military terminology, inner lines are escape routes which are located near opposing lines. They provide a way of passing undetected and fleeing. Around Mount Ararat, in Turkey and Armenia, messengers and their carrier pigeons travel along these parallel paths to meet up with communities in the grip of war. During their wanderings, they encounter Yezidis who have fled from the atrocities committed by Daesh and found refuge in transit camps in Turkey. They stand beside the last living survivors of the Armenian genocide. They travel around war-torn Nagorno-Karabakh, to accompany and support the bereaved families there. Throughout the story, men and women bear witness to what they have endured, to their shattered lives, to life, fighting off death. Above all, their words tell a tale of violence inflicted by men on other men, a violence that seems everlasting and obstinate.

When independence came, the owners of the big boats decided to sell up, so many small-scale fishermen soon found themselves out of work. Their wives decided to pool their gold rings and sell them to buy new boats.

Those who suffer from the melancholy of eternity are called eternals. Convinced that death cannot take their lives, they believe they are condemned to wander around waiting for the day when they will be released from their existence. This film is a tale of wanderings and escapes, on the borders of Nagorno-Karabakh, an Armenian enclave in Azerbaijan. Inhabited by the ghosts of the genocide and by the war that has been raging there for more than twenty years, the characters who traverse this film carry within them the melancholy of the eternal.