Dis­cov­er­ing Robert Fla­her­ty
and Rob Rom­bout:
A Director’s Story

by Julee Laporte

Near­ly six­ty years after the release of Robert Flaherty’s Louisiana Sto­ry, Bel­gian direc­tor Rob Rom­bout along with a cast of thir­teen stu­dents and count­less natives return to Flaherty’s unqui­et swamps in w, a col­lec­tive endeav­or intend­ed to re-eval­u­ate and re-dis­cov­er the heart of an often mis­rep­re­sent­ed peo­ple. In the qua­si-alchem­i­cal trans­for­ma­tion which occurs in all cin­e­mat­ic enter­pris­es, Fla­her­ty and Rom­bout dis­ap­pear, for the most part replac­ing their prop­er voic­es with cel­lu­loid images and region­al tes­ti­mo­ny. How­ev­er, it is clear that doc­u­men­tary film does not com­plete­ly remove the director’s pres­ence, and traces of their ambi­tion and inspi­ra­tion can be seen through­out their work. How then are we as both spec­ta­tor and sup­port­er sup­posed to find Fla­her­ty and Rom­bout, as well as their respec­tive “found sto­ries”? To what extent did these men and their tales uncon­scious­ly and incon­spic­u­ous­ly influ­ence one anoth­er and their respec­tive audi­ences? Through an analy­sis of their some­times diver­gent but often shared meth­ods of approach, dis­cov­ery, and com­mu­ni­ca­tion, it is per­haps pos­si­ble to arrive at a more devel­oped under­stand­ing of the role each played in shap­ing our own vision of Louisiana and its myr­i­ad stories.

« It is clear from his work in Perm-mis­sion and Revis­it­ing Louisiana Sto­ry alone that Rom­bout takes great plea­sure in allow­ing peo­ple he finds (often lit­er­al­ly) on the streets to help com­pose his own story. »

Near­ly half of a cen­tu­ry before the advent of French New Wave and sim­i­lar move­ments in mid-cen­tu­ry cin­e­ma, Robert Fla­her­ty first fled the stu­dio in search of what he called the found sto­ry. Hop­ing to escape forced dia­logue and kitschy lot scenery, Fla­her­ty trav­eled to the far reach­es of the world in an attempt to cap­ture on film those moments which defy re-cre­ation in their sin­gu­lar­i­ty and must there­fore be allowed to unfold in front of the lens. This is not to say that Fla­her­ty nev­er had a hand in hur­ry­ing this process along by mod­i­fy­ing the nat­ur­al ebb and flow of a com­mu­ni­ty dur­ing a shoot. While not pro­fes­sion­al actors, the char­ac­ters list­ed in Louisiana Sto­ry as “The Boy,” “His Father,” and “His Morther,” were cer­tain­ly not a real fam­i­ly. Famil­ial ties were forced in order to sup­port the larg­er sto­ry, what Fla­her­ty con­sid­ered to be the big­ger pic­ture: a cin­e­mat­ic pre­sen­ta­tion of the Louisiana land­scape stun­ning in both its beau­ty and mag­ni­tude. Fla­her­ty remains true to the objec­tive aims of doc­u­men­tary in that he pro­vides the audi­ence with count­less oppor­tu­ni­ties to enjoy panoram­ic views of lush wilder­ness, let­ting the cam­era rest on a sin­gle bird in a tree for min­utes at a time. While mon­tage is also employed to give the audi­ence a sense of action and plot move­ment, Fla­her­ty often allows the image to devel­op at its own pace, result­ing in some of the most beau­ti­ful film ever tak­en from Louisiana swamps. As a Russ­ian enthu­si­ast of Fla­her­ty remarked at the annu­al Fla­hertyana doc­u­men­tary fes­ti­val, “It seems very char­ac­ter­is­tic of Fla­her­ty to rely less on mon­tage. The less you cut, the less you lie, and the bet­ter the film will be [1].” Flaherty’s mise-en-scene gives the found sto­ry its depth and pur­pose while func­tion­ing as the per­fect vehi­cle for relat­ing the grandeur of Nature and its del­i­cate rela­tion­ship with human-life in south Louisiana.

Fol­low­ing in the foot­steps of Fla­her­ty, Rob Rom­bout also left the con­fines of the stu­dio, after years of direct­ing com­mer­cials for var­i­ous Euro­pean broad­cast­ing agen­cies, and devot­ed him­self to doc­u­men­tary film. Unlike Flaherty’s unwa­ver­ing atten­tion to coun­try­side and swamp­scapes, how­ev­er, Rom­bout uncov­ers his found sto­ry through a pletho­ra of diverse sources not lim­it­ed to nat­ur­al phe­nom­e­na and often includ­ing metro sta­tions, bath­rooms, inter­na­tion­al film con­vo­ca­tions, and region­al fes­ti­vals. These loca­tions rarely take cen­ter stage by their own accord, though; Rom­bout typ­i­cal­ly uses them as a back­drop for what appears to be a much more impor­tant com­po­nent of to his method: dif­fer­ent peo­ple and their own found sto­ries. It is clear from his work in Perm-mis­sion and Revis­it­ing Louisiana Sto­ry alone that Rom­bout takes great plea­sure in allow­ing peo­ple he finds (often lit­er­al­ly) on the streets to help com­pose his own sto­ry. For exam­ple both the train atten­dant in Perm-mis­sion and the egg dyers in Revis­it­ing Louisiana Sto­ry con­tribute great­ly to their respec­tive films, one non-ver­bal­ly com­mu­ni­cat­ing the frigid cold of near-Siber­ian Rus­sia and the oth­ers cheer­ful­ly pro­vid­ing a boun­ty of humor and anec­dotes from their men­tal reg­istry of Cajun cul­ture. Here Rom­bout ful­fills his oblig­a­tion as a doc­u­men­tary film­mak­er, much like Fla­her­ty, in allow­ing the cam­era to seize these moments and then ren­der­ing them to the audi­ence with as lit­tle inter­fer­ence from the man work­ing behind the machine as pos­si­ble. Through his work it is clear that Rombout’s found sto­ry is not his alone. With the col­lab­o­ra­tive efforts of thir­teen stu­dent film­mak­ers in Revis­it­ing Louisiana Sto­ry, the final found sto­ry is an amal­ga­ma­tion of all those sto­ries that passed before the lens and they who helped to tell them.

Extract of Perm-mis­sion, by Rob Rom­bout, 1999

The found sto­ry of both Rom­bout and Fla­her­ty is only pos­si­ble giv­en its dis­tance from the director’s nor­mal envi­ron­ment. In leav­ing the stu­dio, Rom­bout and Fla­her­ty con­demned them­selves to the life of a per­pet­u­al out­sider, nev­er com­plete­ly at home with any of their sub­jects but always made to feel wel­come nonethe­less. Fla­her­ty seems to have devel­oped rather strong ties with the locals dur­ing the shoot for Louisiana Sto­ry because his work is still cel­e­brat­ed to this day in many of the areas sur­round­ing Bay­ou Petite Anse. The same can be said for Rombout’s voy­age to Perm, Rus­sia, where he was grant­ed the esteemed hon­or of film­ing an assem­bly of film­mak­ers at work. While it is cer­tain that the role of out­sider intro­duces an array of dif­fi­cul­ties, from gain­ing the trust of a com­mu­ni­ty to find­ing a decent place to lay your head, it also sup­plies our direc­tors with a per­spec­tive alto­geth­er dif­fer­ent from that of the natives, thus allow­ing them to dis­cov­er that which may remain hid­den from an insid­er. This act of dis­cov­ery encap­su­lates the very essence of the found sto­ry and serves to solid­i­fy the impor­tance of the objec­tive observ­er in doc­u­men­tary film­mak­ing. Through their col­lec­tive works, Rom­bout and Fla­her­ty height­en the process of dis­cov­ery by allow­ing the voice of the insid­er to be seen and heard through the lens.

While both Fla­her­ty and Rom­bout may arrive at the dis­cov­ery of their found sto­ries through sim­i­lar meth­ods, the ways in which they com­mu­ni­cate them to the audi­ence are very dif­fer­ent indeed. In an arti­cle pub­lished recent­ly after the release of Louisiana Sto­ry in local news­pa­per, Gene Yoes, Jr. high­lights one of Flaherty’s most acclaimed tech­niques: The child was fondling his new rifle that his father had bought in the city. His pet rac­coon, which he thought had been devoured by the alli­ga­tor, returned. The child dropped his new rifle and went to his coon. “Told” with­out the use of dia­logue, this sequence pow­er­ful­ly shows the child as he rejects the mech­a­nized world, the arti­fi­cial world cre­at­ed by machin­ery, and returns to his native envi­ron­ment… [2]”.

As the insid­er approv­ing the work of the out­sider, Yoes brings to light Flaherty’s reliance on non-ver­bal com­mu­ni­ca­tion as a means to con­vey the rela­tion­ship between the past and present as well as technology’s pow­er­ful influ­ence on tra­di­tion­al ways of liv­ing, two rather impor­tant mes­sages in Louisiana Sto­ry. Doc­u­men­tary film for Fla­her­ty requires a cer­tain respect for the audi­ence as well as the sub­ject, and while the child in the film was act­ing out a role that was not his own, Fla­her­ty did not attempt to sway the audi­ence with an elo­quent speech on the evils of indus­try and the impor­tance of retain­ing time-hon­ored cus­toms. Rather, he allowed the child’s inter­ac­tion with what we could con­sid­er to be an exten­sion of his native land, the rac­coon, to demon­strate that the arrival of the oil der­ricks did not change every­thing, that the boy’s way of life would not suf­fer dras­tic change as had been pre­vi­ous­ly thought. Wit­nessed also in the mag­nif­i­cent scene aboard the der­rick where the work­ers scur­ry around in an attempt to oper­ate a rather com­pli­cat­ed piece of machin­ery, Flaherty’s visu­al rep­re­sen­ta­tion of exchange, change, and growth trans­mits his sense of dis­cov­ery in a way that sur­pass­es the some­times unnat­ur­al use of lan­guage and dia­logue in film.

« It seems that Rom­bout choos­es to inject him­self into his films in order to remind us, and per­haps him­self, that he is still there, that doc­u­men­tary film is nev­er pure­ly objec­tive because it is always sub­ject to the mul­ti­tude of deci­sions made by the film­mak­er each day. » 

Rom­bout, on the oth­er hand, takes full advan­tage of what Fla­her­ty leaves out, as he often uses his own words to voice-over images on the screen and will con­duct exten­sive per­son­al inter­views from behind the cam­era. Indeed it is much eas­i­er to find Rom­bout in his films that in it is to find Fla­her­ty in his, if only because Rom­bout seems more aware of his posi­tion as a doc­u­men­tary film­mak­er and is able to com­mu­ni­cate this knowl­edge open­ly to his audi­ence. This pres­ence is almost pal­pa­ble in the stu­dent films of Revis­it­ing Louisiana Sto­ry, where Rom­bout nev­er acts as direc­tor but assumes an impor­tant role as guide and teacher. It is as if Rom­bout, the stu­dent-direc­tors, and we the audi­ence are dis­cov­er­ing Cajun cul­ture at the same time, as if Rombout’s strug­gle to under­stand and relate his sto­ry is the sto­ry that we see. It seems that Rom­bout choos­es to inject him­self into his films in order to remind us, and per­haps him­self, that he is still there, that doc­u­men­tary film is nev­er pure­ly objec­tive because it is always sub­ject to the mul­ti­tude of deci­sions made by the film­mak­er each day. How­ev­er, in unabashed­ly pre­sent­ing him­self to the cam­era, Rom­bout is attempt­ing to under­take a more hon­est approach to doc­u­men­tary film, reveal­ing him­self to all so that we might bet­ter under­stand the process as well as the product.

Extract of Perm-mis­sion, by Rob Rom­bout, 1999

« Rom­bout works to uncov­er what exact­ly in Flaherty’s approach has influ­enced so many peo­ple over decades and across nation­al borders. »

No clear­er exam­ple of this direc­to­r­i­al aware­ness can be found than in his film Perm-mis­sion, in which Rom­bout trav­els to the small vil­lage of Perm, Rus­sia to film a doc­u­men­tary about Fla­hertyana, the annu­al fes­ti­val ded­i­cat­ed to pro­mot­ing the lega­cy of Fla­her­ty and pre­serv­ing the integri­ty of doc­u­men­tary film in the coun­try. Through his con­ver­sa­tions with var­i­ous direc­tors and fes­ti­val-goers, Rom­bout works to uncov­er what exact­ly in Flaherty’s approach has influ­enced so many peo­ple over decades and across nation­al bor­ders. We see Rom­bout toil­ing along­side the sub­jects of his own doc­u­men­tary as togeth­er they exam­ine every­thing from dif­fer­ent tech­niques in cin­e­matog­ra­phy to choic­es in edit­ing and gen­er­al sto­ry­telling, in hopes of arriv­ing at a bet­ter under­stand­ing of why Flaherty’s films still stand today among the best in the genre and how they as film­mak­ers can learn from his tal­ent. A pos­si­ble answer to these ques­tions can per­haps be found in one Russ­ian filmmaker’s attempt to explain the mag­ic of doc­u­men­tary: “The sto­ry must serve as a begin­ning and car­ry along with it the desire to share, the desire to share a bond of reci­procity so that there might be a mutu­al exchange between the author, his vision of things, and the spec­ta­tor [3].” Here Rom­bout and his sub­ject touch at the very core of doc­u­men­tary film, espe­cial­ly the kind under­tak­en by Fla­her­ty. While estab­lish­ing rela­tion with the mem­bers of Fla­hertyana and the films of Fla­her­ty him­self, Rom­bout also presents to the audi­ence his own per­son­al rela­tion­ship with the doc­u­men­tary, allow­ing us as he did in Revis­it­ing Louisiana Sto­ry to wit­ness the steps tak­en to arrive on the big screen.

While it is clear that both Fla­her­ty and Rom­bout attempt to make known this rela­tion­ship between the sto­ry, the author, and the audi­ence in all of their films, many have accused Fla­her­ty of falling under the influ­ence of sub­ver­sive pow­ers dur­ing the mak­ing of Lousisiana Sto­ry, most notably that of the Stan­dard Oil Com­pa­ny of New Jer­sey. Stan­dard Oil com­mis­sioned the film as part of an elab­o­rate pub­lic rela­tions ploy to boost the company’s image. Flaherty’s crit­ics claim that the film’s some­what tidy res­o­lu­tion of the con­flict between the oil­ers and the inhab­i­tants of the area was influ­enced by the sup­port he received from Stan­dard Oil. Often in cin­e­ma the line between doc­u­men­tary and pro­pa­gan­da becomes blurred once a benefactor’s inter­ests clash with those of the direc­tor. How­ev­er, it would be dif­fi­cult to claim that Fla­her­ty allowed Stan­dard Oil to alter the direc­tion of his film, con­sid­er­ing that their name and logo did not appear in the cred­its or else­where. Some are nonethe­less trou­bled by what they see as an over-sim­pli­fi­ca­tion of the sor­did rela­tion­ship south Louisiana has had with the oil indus­try. While the film does appear to car­ry a rather sig­nif­i­cant polit­i­cal in sup­port of the oil indus­try, we should not for­get that Louisiana Sto­ry is essen­tial­ly a com­ing-of-age sto­ry about a boy as he begins his jour­ney to man­hood and strug­gles with the chang­ing world around him as well as with the changes in him­self. From his choice of shots down to his mag­nif­i­cent treat­ment of the Louisiana land­scape, we can say with some degree of cer­tain­ty that Fla­her­ty him­self was more con­cerned with telling lit­tle Joseph Boudreaux’s tale than that of the drillers.

What impact then did Stan­dard Oil have on the way Fla­her­ty told his Louisiana Sto­ry? Like in all artis­tic medi­ums, an audience’s attempt to under­stand a creator’s deci­sion often ends in futile spec­u­la­tion. How­ev­er if this ques­tion­ing leads to hands-on cin­e­mat­ic inves­ti­ga­tion, as it did for Rom­bout and the stu­dent film­mak­ers, then it can also be a use­ful tool. Revis­it­ing Louisiana Sto­ry was con­sid­ered by many of the stu­dent film­mak­ers as their oppor­tu­ni­ty to address the issues raised by the spon­sor­ship of Stan­dard Oil, as well as oth­er con­cerns involv­ing Flaherty’s treat­ment of Cajun cul­ture. Many mod­ern-day Cajuns see Flaherty’s por­tray­al of their not-so-dis­tant rela­tions as an over-sim­pli­ca­tion of a rich and col­or­ful peo­ple, reduced on the screen to an uncul­ti­vat­ed, shoe­less race of trap­pers and hunters. As men­tioned by one of the stu­dent film­mak­ers, many Cajuns at the time of Louisiana Sto­ry had left the bay­ou in search of jobs in the city and were far removed from the some­what prim­i­tive lifestyle depict­ed in Flaherty’s film. Where can their sto­ry be found in Fla­her­ty? With Revis­it­ing Louisiana Sto­ry, the stu­dent film­mak­ers were able to present their own col­lec­tive found sto­ry through the telling of their unique and indi­vid­ual sto­ries, reflect­ing both inside and out­side per­spec­tives and ques­tion­ing the “objec­tive” nature of doc­u­men­tary film. And far from deny­ing the valid­i­ty of Flaherty’s tire­less strug­gle to under­stand the cul­tur­al and nat­ur­al land­scape that he found in Louisiana, Revis­it­ing Louisiana Sto­ry serves to actu­al­ize documentary’s insis­tence on the rela­tion­ship between the sto­ry, the direc­tor, and the audi­ence by adding their own tale to the mix.

« Rom­bout and the stu­dent-film­mak­ers, each in their own per­son­al homage to Fla­her­ty, allow us to see Fla­her­ty in a dif­fer­ent light, as the cam­era turns around to face its author, ana­lyz­ing his work, his dreams, and his aspirations. »

From Flaherty’s found sto­ry in Louisiana Sto­ry to Rombout’s attempt to grap­ple with this sto­ry in Revis­it­ing Louisiana Sto­ry, both films afford the audi­ence with an oppor­tu­ni­ty to draw their own con­clu­sions as to the end­less array of ques­tions that may present them­selves from even the most ama­teur study of Cajun his­to­ry and cul­ture. From their sim­i­lar meth­ods of approach to their mutu­al under­stand­ing of the genre, Fla­her­ty and Rom­bout share much in terms of their appre­ci­a­tion and love for doc­u­men­tary film, and it is through these rela­tions that we may come to tru­ly see the Louisiana sto­ry giv­en by each. While few, their dif­fer­ences serve to high­light the diverse influ­ences and impli­ca­tions of the doc­u­men­tary, and fur­ther­more strength­en its claims to a search for hon­esty before and behind the cam­era. Rom­bout and the stu­dent-film­mak­ers, each in their own per­son­al homage to Fla­her­ty, allow us to see Fla­her­ty in a dif­fer­ent light, as the cam­era turns around to face its author, ana­lyz­ing his work, his dreams, and his aspi­ra­tions. Fla­her­ty, in turn, nev­er ceas­es to amaze his view­ers with the sheer beau­ty of his cre­ation, pro­ject­ing for bet­ter or worse his own found sto­ry of Louisiana. Luck­i­ly for us there are ques­tions still to be answered in the domain of doc­u­men­tary film; undoubt­ed­ly there will also be oth­er films that attempt to exam­ine them­selves and their art with the same care­ful scruti­ny observed by both Fla­her­ty and Rom­bout in their explo­ration of a peo­ple who will also con­tin­ue to inspire for ages to come.

[1] Perm-mis­sion. Dir. Rob Rom­bout. DVD. Nota Bene, 1999.
[2] Yoes, Jr., Gene. “Pre­miere Film Uses New Tech­nique to Tell Sto­ry of State March­es.” The Abbeville Merid­ion­al 5 Mar. 1949.
[3] Perm-mis­sion. Dir. Rob Rom­bout. DVD. Nota Bene, 1999.

Extract of Perm-mis­sion, by Rob Rom­bout, 1999