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Ferryman of Memories: The Films of Rithy Panh is an unconventional book about an unconventional filmmaker. Rithy Panh survived the Cambodian genocide and found refuge in France where he discovered in film a language that allowed him to tell what happened to the two million souls who suffered hunger, overwork, disease, and death at the hands of the Khmer Rouge. His innovative cinema is made with people, not about them-even those guilty of crimes against humanity. Whether he is directing Isabelle Huppert in The Sea Wall , following laborers digging trenches, or interrogating the infamous director of S-21 prison, aesthetics and ethics inform all he does. With remarkable access to the director and his work, Deirdre Boyle introduces readers to Panh's groundbreaking approach to perpetrator cinema and dazzling critique of colonialism, globalization, and the refugee crisis. Ferryman of Memories reveals the art of one of the masters of world cinema today, focusing on nineteen of his award-winning films, including Rice People, The Land of Wandering Souls, S-21: The Khmer Rouge Killing Machine, and The Missing Picture.

Panh was a special guest of the Visible Evidence conference held in Toronto in August 2015, where he screened The Missing Picture at the TIFF cinema and engaged in a discussion of his work with Deirdre Boyle, a documentary scholar and media historian, who had just returned from Phnom Penh where she had interviewed Panh for a book she is writing about his films. When you go to the temples in Angkor Wat, you have a lot of Buddhas, a lot of statues, but if you put one in the museum here, it's art, just a piece of art, but for us they represent a spirit. First we determine a good distance and a good distance for me is that you can touch your subject. In Cambodia, the film was a catalyst in sparking a historical and judicial reckoning about the genocide. 3 A Steenbeck is a flatbed 16mm or 35mm analog film editing machine. 4 LTDHEC, the Institut des Hautes Études Cinématographiques, is now known as La Fémis, and remains France's premier school for the training of filmmakers.

O presente artigo aproxima algumas concepções filosóficas acerca do perdão e do testemunho à experiência fílmica de Vann Nath, um pintor e sobrevivente do genocídio cambojano perpetrado pelo Khmer Vermelho entre 1975 e 1979. Nath que é o fio condutor do documentário S21 – A máquina da morte do Khmer Vermelho (2003), de Rithy Pahn, cuja narrativa propõe um confronto entre vítimas e vitimários, todos expostos igualmente, sem pré-julgamentos. Na obra a figura de Vann Nath parece ofertar vida ao impossível: um gesto de perdão e reconciliação face a face com os perpetradores. S21 tematiza as pinturas de Nath, imagens reminiscentes aqui compreendidas como marcas do testemunho do genocídio, na medida em que retratam de forma singular as torturas e violações impostas aos cidadãos do Camboja feitos prisioneiros àquela época; mas não só, atualizam, no presente, a confrontação com o genocídio enquanto fissura inesquecível, (im)perdoável.

The literature over the last three decades has been trying to account for the stories of resilience by Cambodians both in their homeland and diasporas through performance and literature, visual culture, and religion to undo the legacy of displacement and traumatic experience of the Cambodians during 1975–1979, known as the Khmer Rouge Genocidal period. The repatriation of Khmer refugees to their homeland during 1992–1993 poses a question of to what extent the physical return could replenish the richness of people’s lives deprived by war-time atrocities. Dhammayietra (peace march; 1992–2018) originated by and centered around the spiritual leadership of late Maha Ghosananda has, being an exemplar, tackled this challenge. Yet, are there any significant moral contributions and ethical leadership from other sources? This paper therefore seeks to highlight the under-recognized stories of ‘Dhammacārinī’ (Buddhist Woman Leader) of Cambodia in the light of the spirituality that emerged in the post-conflict reconstruction. Based on my ethnographic accounts and engagement with Dhammayietra (2009–2018), archival research and biographical and dharma books published by the two dhammacārinīs of Cambodia, I argue that these Buddhist woman leaders attempt to offer the people of Cambodia ‘rematriation’, where the ethics of care, nurture, interconnectedness and healing join forces to counter the legacy of devastation and desperation.

Caruth also adds that it is in that \"bewildering encounter with trauma - both in its occurrence and in the attempt to understand it - that we can begin to recognize the possibility of a history that is no longer straightforwardly referential (that is, no longer based on simple models of experience and reference)\" (Caruth n).4 If Rithy Panh's films emerged as a response to the trauma caused by the Khmer Rouge's genocidal violence, we must heed Caruth's words and not simply regard Panh's films as unmediated truths about real events that occurred in Cambodian history or faithful/ mimetic representation of the experience lived by the auteur. Conclusion What makes Rithy Panh's documentary films so compelling? I hope to have demonstrated that through the sounds of everyday life and \"filmed speech,\" Rithy Panh succeeds in bringing to the fore, and through the voice of putatively unsophisticated subjects, some of the most tragic and under-acknowledged truths of our time: the impact of war and conflict on women and children, the uneven development of nations and competing market forces that continue to ravage the lives of the underclass in Cambodia and elsewhere in the world.

In this article, I examine encounters with an artist and his art: Cambodian exile filmmaker Rithy Panh. In his cinematographic and artwork, Rithy Panh comes to terms with his childhood, the death of his family, and the suffering of his people during the Khmer Rouge regime and the genocide in Cambodia. Conflict and displacement are themes usually approached by researchers using language-based methods, which do not give us fully adequate insights into the “felt and experienced” temporal/spatial aspects of conflict and displacement. I frame my discussion through the reflective interaction between art, an artist with violent conflict and displacement background and the audience—a researcher. First, I examine how taking the sentipensar approach to research through art encounters and researcher as a thinking-feeling person contributes to a different understanding of personal trajectories, experiences of, and emotions connected to conflict, war, and displacement. My second aim is to analyze how artistic practice of Rithy Panh contributes to coming to terms with and to creating alternatives to the official public discourses about the past and the present, at individual and societal levels.

This article investigates Cambodian filmmaker Rithy Panh’s deployment of dioramas in The Burnt Theater (2005) and Graves Without a Name (2018). It focuses on the status of these miniature tableaux depicting landscapes of the Khmer Rouge regime as a ghost medium. A frame within the frame devoid of human forms, the diorama calls attention to the missing graves and wandering souls of Pol Pot’s agrarian revolution; the shared spaces of the living and the dead in present-day Cambodia; visual amnesia in the form of unmarked killing fields and forgotten landscapes; and new practices of reading the inhabited terrains of the Anthropocene.

Since that first meeting in 2014, Colin and his partner Keiko Kitamura have become two of my dearest friends and collaborators, seeing me through countless personal and professional crises as I have sought to navigate the fraught and delicate terrain of conducting research about Cambodia's Cold War legacies. The situation in Cambodia was characterized by the lack of a safe vaccine availability (especially in the rural countryside where people like Davi lived), an inequitable medical care system, prolonged lockdowns, quarantine zones, heightened surveillance, security checkpoints, empty city streets, military patrols, and the sound of police megaphones blaring curfew orders throughout the streets. [...]she told me about her travels to the Cambodian refugee camps in Thailand when the border finally opened up in 1979-how she had learned the Thai language, enlisted as a relief worker, and did what she could as one of the few Cambodian women relief workers in the camp who could help translate between Thai and Khmer. There were only films made by foreign film crews and there was no participation from our side. [...]it was necessary for Cambodians to reconstruct the memory of the camp and to collect testimonials in order to preserve a historical record for the present.