Homelands

Homelands (1993) was a departure for me not only in terms of style, but also in terms of content. It was 1992, and I felt it was high time to explore issues around migration and ethnicity. There was also a strong personal reason: our family emigrated from Europe in 1956, and my father Jerzy Zubrzycki happened to be one of the chief architects of multiculturalism – at the academic and policy levels. I also observed that there was a noticeable absence of films made in this country that explored stories of migration. Sophia Turkiewicz’s Silver City was produced in 1984, but there were no feature documentaries. I found that inexplicable, and I wanted to correct this imbalance. 

Australia had a proud history of re-settling refugees from post-war Europe and Vietnam. In the mid 1980s, the most recent arrivals were from the Middle East, East Timor and South America – especially the military dictatorships in Chile and El Salvador. My first idea was to make a film about survivors of trauma and torture, and it so happened I had a connection with the El Salvadorian community in Melbourne through a friend who was a social worker in Broadmeadows.

A civil war had raged in El Salvador for 11 years, claiming 80,000 lives and forcing 20% of the population to flee the country. Peace talks were in progress, and the civil war was finally coming to an end. Many families were torn between a practical desire to stay in Australia, and an emotional desire to uproot themselves once again and return to El Salvador. The idea of ‘homeland’ meant different things to different families, and to different individuals within those families. 

Quite early in my research I met a family who epitomised these tensions. Maria and Carlos Robles settled in Moonee Ponds in 1985 with their four daughters. Both had been members of the clandestine opposition, and both had been kidnapped and tortured. 

On my first meeting with Maria and Carlos, I knew straight away that the film was going to be a story of their relationship as a couple. They were going through a stormy and difficult period in their marriage. Carlos, a former teacher and guerrilla instructor, had a job as a hospital cleaner, while Maria was flourishing as a community worker. She was satisfied with her career and felt comfortable with her safe new life in Australia. Meanwhile Carlos was unhappy and yearning for his homeland. He had never really wanted to leave El Salvador and the political struggle, and now the way was potentially open for him to return and make a contribution to the country’s post-war reconstruction. The scene was set for a challenging time in their relationship. The idea of a documentary portrait of a marriage appealed to me as a filmmaker. I asked their permission to make a film and they agreed. They wanted to convey the message that refugees don’t necessarily re-settle quickly and easily. 

I submitted the idea to SBS who agreed to support it. The network had only just begun to commission independent production. We started shooting tape first – video 8 – to get the family used to the camera. I made two or three home videos for them that I transferred to VHS. When the full budget arrived I switched to 16mm film. Given the cost of stock and processing, I had to schedule the shooting very carefully. It was a long-distance film: the family were in Melbourne, I was in Sydney. This was an advantage of sorts because it forced me to make very considered decisions about what scenes to shoot, plus I didn’t want to impose my crew on the family every day, or even every week. I also had a hunch that the story would unfold over a significant period of time. I was correct: Carlos suddenly decided to leave the country, and I had the feeling Maria would later follow, and so it turned out.

As Stella Bruzzi notes: “The core of direct cinema is the encounter before the camera, the moment when the filmmaking process disrupts and intrudes.”¹ This certainly applied in Homelands. Maria, Carlos and I became involved in a complex three-way relationship. The roles of filmmaker, friend, and counsellor overlapped and merged. It all came to a head when Maria decided to track down Carlos. When the two of us landed in El Salvador after a gruelling set of flights from Melbourne, Carlos turned a cold shoulder to me – in retrospect, not surprising. What made it more complicated was that Maria brought along her own video camera. She wanted to bring some images back of El Salvador to show the community in Melbourne. It’s as if she was making her own film inside mine! 

Originally, I had never intended to write narration because this was always going to be a ‘fly on the wall documentary,’ but it was clear that my presence as the filmmaker was affecting the dynamics of the situation. My solution was not to deny my presence but to acknowledge it, and one way to do it was through first-person narration.

When I was interviewed by The Age in 1993, I referred to how I wanted to separate myself from “the history of anthropological filmmaking, from just being there filming the process, standing back from whatever happens.” I went on to say “the more time you spend with someone, the more there is a relationship of trust, and the relationship is fundamentally a deep one, the more you are going to affect what is being filmed and how events unfold, and the more you have a responsibility to appear from behind the lens.”²

The tensions in the marriage were all brought to a head in an extraordinary moment late in the filming. We were staying overnight in a small village sleeping in hammocks. I don’t think I got much sleep. The cock crew at four o’clock in the morning, and suddenly there was activity. As the day dawned, Maria said to me “look, I’ve got to tell you something and I also want to tell it to my kids, and I want you to film it on my camera.” What happens next is an extraordinary moment in the film. I take over Maria’s camera and Joel Peterson, my director of photography, is filming me filming her as she relates what she’s discovered about Carlos’ alleged infidelity. The narrative then takes more unexpected turns leading to another extraordinary scene. We’re back home in Melbourne. Maria gathers her girls and Carlos into the lounge, and plays the video which I shot of her back in the village where she talks to the camera, presenting ‘her evidence’. There was no escaping my entanglement in their marriage, which made me uncomfortable as a filmmaker.

When the film was nearly complete, I organised a screening for the whole Robles family, which is a practise I follow in virtually every film. This film in particular conveyed very raw emotions, and I was nervous how they would react. They said they had no problem with it, and that I had portrayed their story truthfully and honestly.

A few months later, Homelands premiered at the Sydney Film Festival in 1993 and screened later the same year at the Melbourne International Film Festival. Carlos and Maria came up to Sydney for the screening. They appeared on stage before an audience of over 1,200 at the State Theatre for the Q&A. They were very brave: Maria responded to the occasion with an incredible sense of assurance, while Carlos was uncomfortable. Privately he never admitted this to me, but I sensed his regret at having agreed to participate in the film.

Within the El Salvadorean community the film had its supporters and also its detractors, which was not surprising given its conservative Catholic culture. Many people didn’t like Maria being so upfront about her relationship, and so candid about her own life experiences. However, Maria saw herself as an outsider and in many ways that ‘excused’ her participation in the film. She states publicly in the film that the reason for her participation was to inform Australians of how difficult it can be settling into a new society and culture, and “what being a refugee does to your personal life” – which was the whole reason of why I wanted to make the film in the first place. 

Maria separated from Carlos in 2000, seven years after the film was completed. She is now a proud grandmother of 17 grandchildren and great grandmother to eight children. Her extended multicultural family includes Samoan, Polish, Chinese and Anglo-saxon heritage. Maria retired from community work and has been in a new relationship for the past 12 years. Carlos remained in Melbourne and also re-married.

Homelands (1993 Australia 76 mins)

Prod Co: Jotz Productions Prod, Dir, Scr: Tom Zubrycki Phot: Joel Peterson Ed: Ray Thomas

Cast: Carlos Robles, Maria Robles Mus: Jan Preston

Endnotes