El Tiempo Nublado: The Ethics of Activist Documentary Filmmaking
El Tiempo Nublado (Cloudy Times), Arami Ullón (2014)
In recent years, documentary filmmakers have abandoned the pretense that their cameras capture an unmediated reality and have more readily inserted themselves into their films. A more overtly personal style can be used to great effect to tell stories that are close to the directors, such as the disintegration of small-town America captured by Michael Moore in his first feature-length documentary, Roger & Me (1989). Moore portrays himself here as a plucky David challenging the Goliath of General Motors, which pulled out of his hometown of Flint, Michigan, with devastating consequences for local community.
In his later films, such as Bowling for Columbine (2002) and Sicko (2007), Moore has a tendency to cast himself as a kind of avenging angel to the point where his presence threatens to overshadow the central story of the films. This type of documentary filmmaking is not without its detractors, and it can raise particularly difficult questions when the subjects are vulnerable people. A case in point is Nick Broomfield's close relationship with the subject of his film Aileen: Life and Death of A Serial Killer (2003), which has been criticized as exploitative, and which led to him becoming involved in the trial that ultimately decided whether or not she would be executed.
Arami Ullón’s El Tiempo Nublado (Cloudy Times), on the other hand, demonstrates a keen awareness of the sensitivities involved in recording the life of a vulnerable person. Ullón deftly sidesteps the pitfalls that Moore and Broomfield, to different degrees, fail to avoid— a task complicated further by the intensely personal nature of the film, which follows the director's attempts to find suitable long-term care for her aging mother, Mirna, who suffers from both Parkinson's disease and epilepsy.
Ullón was her mother's caregiver as a child and, before returning to Paraguay to make this film, had lived in Europe for over a decade. Her mother's willingness to make the film is established from the opening sequence, when she asserts that she wants to participate in her daughter's project to bear witness to what happens to elderly people with illnesses and to reconcile with her daughter and atone for the great responsibility that she placed upon her from an early age. Ullón’s father, Luis, who has not assumed that responsibility, is also part of this attempt at reconciliation, and the scenes where the family discuss the guilt that Arami has experienced as a young woman who wants to pursue her own goals and form her own family with her partner Patrick far from her ailing mother are as unflinching as they are moving.
Moreover, Ullón has clarified that she ensured that her mother would have a voice in the filming process, as she was the only person in the film who could call a halt to filming if she did not wish to continue. Ullón herself did not have such a veto, a fact reflected in the scenes where she expresses her impotent anger and frustration at the seeming impossibility of finding a satisfactory living arrangement for her mother while living her own life with her partner in Switzerland.
El Tiempo Nublado (Cloudy Times), Arami Ullón (2014)
Although the film centers on this personal story, it is also a reflection of a universal issue that is difficult and often uncomfortable for families to address— how to care for elderly family members who are no longer capable of making decisions about their care themselves. This problem is compounded in Paraguay by the expectation that the relatives of older people will care for them regardless of their own circumstances, an expectation ratified at state level by a law that only provides places in state retirement homes to people with no living relatives.
The film also makes it clear that this duty of care falls disproportionately to women, in the case of family members but also caregivers. Mirna's caregiver at the start of the film, Julia, cannot continue to care for Mirna despite the obvious affection between the two— Julia is not equipped to handle Mirna's worsening health, but furthermore she wants to spend more time with her own daughters, who she fears she is neglecting. The film also lays bare the extreme pressure endured by migrants who live far from their families and are often called upon to support them financially, thus reducing their ability to fully realize their lives in their adopted countries. This responsibility is particularly acute for Arami, an only child whose relationship with her mother is reversed to the point that Mirna repeatedly calls her 'mamá,' a habit that reflecgs her closeness to her daughter as much as her dependence on her.
Despite its difficult subject matter and the many tense conversations between Arami and her parents, above all, El Tiempo Nublado (Cloudy Times) is a love letter to Mirna who, despite her illness, emerges as a spirited, loving person who does not want to be a burden on her daughter and whose own life has been severely compromised by the lack of information and support for her illness. In a touching scene, Arami can only celebrate her partner's birthday by calling him on Skype; Mirna steals the show by speaking to Patrick in fluent English and performing a rousing rendition of 'Happy Birthday.'
The bed to which Arami's mother is confined for much of the film is used to powerful effect as a metaphor for the strength of family bonds. Arami begins her journey back to Paraguay after lying in bed with Patrick in their home in Switzerland, a scene that captures their closeness. A similar bond is evident between mother and daughter as Arami lies with her mother in bed on various occasions, talking or reading to her and joining her in singing songs that they both love.
El Tiempo Nublado (Cloudy Times), Arami Ullón (2014)