Haiti was in crisis in 2004 when Danish filmmaker Asgar Leth was shooting his just-released documentary, Ghosts of Cité Soleil, about gang-leaders in Port-au-Prince. Jean-Bertrand Aristide had been ousted as President, leaving a large number of his supporters in the country who erupted in violence against the interim government. Rival gangs on both sides of the divide controlled the slums of Port-au-Prince, slums like Cité Soleil, which was deemed by the United Nations as "the most dangerous place on earth." And in the nearly two-year period of conflict that followed Aristide's exit, one study found that 8,000 citizens of the capital city were murdered and over 35,000 sexually assaulted.
Given these conditions, it would be difficult for any filmmaker to merely document the surroundings. So it is truly remarkable that first-time director Leth managed not only to capture the general chaos enveloping the country, but also to gain access to some of the most violent and lawless neighborhoods in Port-au-Prince. His access was so incredible that at various points in the documentary we see Leth have his life threatened by one Port-au-Prince thug, watch a small group of gang members plot the murder of a rival, and observe attacks on demonstrators led by the two gang leaders at the center of the film. Needless to say, this is not exactly a film produced by the Haitian tourist ministry.
Those two gang leaders at the heart of Ghosts of Cité Soleil are Bily and 2Pac, brothers and rival leaders of chimeres or "ghosts," squads of violent young men so named because of their short lifespan and invisibility to the law. Bily and 2Pac, who are the de facto heads of lawless Cité Soleil, revel in their thug lifestyle, quoting hip-hop lyrics while brandishing machine guns and disposing with lives as they see fit.
It would be a stretch to claim that either of these men is particularly political -- their allegiances seem to turn on a dime, driven more by personal benefit than any greater cause. 2Pac, at least, has aspirations outside of Cité Soleil. He looks to Wyclef Jean, a former resident of Port-au-Prince (and a producer of the film), as a role-model for the artistic, ex-pat life he would like to eventually live.
Perhaps because of the violent environment in which the film was shot, Ghosts of Cité Soleil is not the most coherent piece of work. The jittery camera work and the constant cutting from one neighborhood setting to another makes the film rather hard to follow. It is never clear exactly which group is on what side of the conflict, or which member of the chimeres is being threatened by someone else. At various points, I even struggled with identifying whether Bily or 2Pac was talking directly to the camera. Still, many of the images Leth captures are arresting; set to pulsing hip-hop music, Ghosts of Cité Soleil often has the energy of a rap video.
Leth, the son of Danish film giant Jorgen Leth, spent much of his childhood in Haiti where his father initially served as honorary consul. His familiarity with the country shows in the ease with which he documents even its most dangerous neighborhoods.
At the time the film begins, Bily and 2Pac are still determining their allegiances in the burgeoning conflict. Both brothers were originally on the payroll of Aristide's government, but 2Pac turned against the former president. The tension that arises between the two brothers is driven both by Aristide's exit and by a French aid worker, Lele, who serves as romantic interest and emissary for the brothers.
Lele is the most frustrating and enigmatic figure in Ghosts of Cité Soleil, for she seems entirely seduced by power and violence of the chimeres and completely oblivious to the true desperation of their situation. It is unclear how she came to know Bily and 2Pac, but over the course of the film she goes from occasional guest in Cité Soleil to 2Pac's lover and confidant. By the time the new government approaches the chimeres with talk of a truce, it is Lele who is urging them to hold on to their weapons and be prepared for a fight. Well-intentioned or not, her actions suggest a complete indifference to the depraved morality of the men whose service she joins.
Unfortunately, Leth appears to share her indifference. Ghosts of Cité Soleil paints both Bily and 2Pac as tragic figures more than unprincipled delinquents, and while there is undoubtedly much to be said about the dire political and economic factors that have placed these men in their predicament, Leth is not all that interested in saying it. Outside of occasional interviews with government heads or rebel leaders, his interest lies in shining his camera on Bily and 2Pac, and one cannot help but think that a little more distance would have done some good. Leth's fascination with his main characters is understandable -- it's not often that a filmmaker gets unfettered access to such grippingly amoral figures -- but at times Ghosts of Cité Soleil plays like an exercise in gangster glorification.
Still, what remains notable about Ghosts of Cité Soleil is its chronicle of life in the direst circumstances imaginable. Bily and 2Pac may have power and guns, but Leth's documentary makes clear that the most precious commodity in Cité Soleil is the ability to survive. The film's closing titles inform us of the brothers' fates, suggesting that, when it comes to escaping death, it's not always good to be a gangsta.
