Flee is a documentary from Danish filmmaker, Jonas Poher Rasmussen, and it’s a rather unique take on the documentary approach, even compared to other animated documentaries, most famously being Waltz With Bashir. It’s structured like a casual interview session, where the film’s subject Amin recounts his youth in Afghanistan, and the struggling journey that was taken by his family when they were forced to leave, and try to make their way to a safe haven in Europe. He stops every now and then, haunted by the memories, as he is sharing them openly for the first time after living with his past as a secret in Denmark.
It’s an unfortunately relevant film, as one can’t help but think about the chaos that ensued when the Taliban took over Kabul not too long ago, and many folks, particularly locals, were desperate to leave, worried that if they were to stay behind, they could be killed. It’s like watching history on repeat as we listen in on Amin’s story, creating these images that were taking place many years ago, yet feel like they could have easily happened just a few months ago. It honestly makes the proceedings that much more impactful because it really hits home the humanity behind the crowds we see on TV.
I loved the animation here. It’s not super polished, it’s a bit rough around the edges, but it feels so purposeful in that choice. And I like how often the animation would change to reflect the character’s mindset and environment, sometimes switching to a mere rough sketch-like aesthetic that reminded me of imagery I saw in something like The Tale Of The Princess Kaguya. It makes a really strong impression, and it heightens the emotional resonance in striking ways, especially when paired with the tender score from Uno Helmersson.
The film offers enough context to the politics and history behind the coup in Afghanistan in 1973, and why his family was affected. Clips are shown of some of the things that occurred during that time, some surprisingly graphic, but it is all in service of creating this atmosphere of oppression that makes you understand why Amin’s family had to go, and why all the trouble they eventually go through is ultimately worth it. Most of the film, however, is an intimate affair, using Amin’s perspective to explore the experience of refugees while also exploring personal struggles, like him coming to term with his homosexuality.
I imagine a project like Flee is greatly cathartic for someone like Amin, who has buried his past from everyone in his life in Denmark, including his soon-to-be husband. It’s surprisingly engaging seeing how Amin works through these memories, touching on ideas and moments from his life that has largely been left unremarked upon. After all, he says it himself, you can’t run away from your past. The sad thing is, Amin’s story is a story that could apply to so many others, and many of those folks won’t get to tell their story on a platform like this, so not only is this stellar work on a personal level, but it brings a necessary perspective to the forefront as well. Hopefully, things will change for the better in how we treat refugees, especially if a film like this is seen far and wide. But even if this was all purely fictionalized, it would still be a beautifully made and deeply affecting piece of storytelling that is absolutely worth your time.
Flee is now out in select theaters.