Big rig on the bayou

In ‘Louisiana Story’, we see a filmmaker honest to his humanism

For Flaherty, Louisiana is the poetry of the bayou.

With Nanook of the North (1922), Moana (1926) Man of Aran (1934) and The Land (1942) under his belt, Robert J. Flaherty was a highly seasoned filmmaker when he began making Louisiana Story in 1948. In the years in between he had also made documentaries, mentored John Grierson of the British Film Board, and become a major influence on non-fiction filmmakers.

The catastrophic years between 1939 and 1945 saw the documentary go through multiple redefinitions — from brazenly fake newsreels to ‘nationalistic’ films glorifying patriotism. Flaherty boldly cut links with all the whoopla manufactured by the powerful studios, virtually forcing himself to retire.

But when Standard Oil Company wanted to make a strong promotional film early 1948, they called on Flaherty — because for this documentary filmmaker, good storytelling was central.

Alligators vs. oil pipes

On the surface, Louisiana Story is a simple study in contrasts. Silent backwaters versus the noisy lines of an oil derrick; the laidback young Alexander and his Cajun family versus the industrious workers; the gracefully floating alligator hunting for food versus the heavy pipes drilling for oil and natural gas; the gentle daylight filtering through the forests versus the arc lights of the oil rig.

Louisiana Story plays out in the bayou where Acadian Cajuns or the old French residents of north-western Canada lived. For Flaherty, Louisiana is the poetry of the bayou, a paradise where a young angel called Alexander drifts through with a raccoon around his neck. Around him an entire modern civilisation is poised to take a giant leap but he remains blissfully undisturbed by the oil rig, machines and workers. Few films have managed to convert the cacophony of a drilling site into a fine orchestral score. Flaherty sees the alligator with the same compassion that he sees the oil rig. Both are hunters, but belong to different orders.

Flaherty, like us, can only wish the natural world and the industrial monster could work on a mutually beneficial basis. To underscore this wonderland, there is Eugene Ormandy’s orchestration of a romantic score written by Virgil Thomson, with the ethereal landscape exquisitely captured by Richard Leacock.

Amidst all the adulation, Flaherty was also attacked by critics who accused him of not paying attention to the poverty of the Cajuns; for endorsing the objectives of a major oil conglomerate; casting actors to play ‘roles’ in a so-called documentary; and playing grandiose music quite extraneous to the bayou and the Cajun. We realise that bias cannot be avoided. But in Louisiana Story we simply see a filmmaker honest to his lyrical humanistic style.

Empathy with the world

We see how Flaherty has influenced scores of other masters like Satyajit Ray, Abbas Kiarostami or Akira Kurosawa and even austere humanists such as Andrei Tarkovsky and Terence Malik to see the world as empathetic fellow beings and not as critical vigilantes.

Like them, Flaherty followed three tenets: a good film must locate the story in a realistic space; it must be a reality that is actually happening; and it must have authentic people and their voices to tell the truth.

For Flaherty, the film belonged to the Cajuns and their dominant spirit and not Standard Oil, which remains uncredited in this film so beautifully restored by UCLA Film & Television Archive.

It is left to us to imagine and argue over how the U.S. would soon end up dominating the entire political narrative of oil.

The author is professor of film studies at Ashoka University.