Online Response #3: The Expository Mode

Born into Brothels blurs the lines between the Expository mode of documentary (considered such by Nichols in Introduction to Documentary) and others, most notably the Participatory mode.  At first glance, it appears Participatory more than anything else—after all, Zana Briski “interacts with her social actors” and “participates in shaping what happens before the camera” (151).  Nichols’s categorization of it as Expository seems to hinge on relatively recent trends in documentary: preference of “voice of authority” over “voice of God,” and an emphasis on individuals as a microcosm of larger issues.  

            The fact that we see Zana Briski and hear her voice-overs makes her a voice of authority; the scarcity of her voiceovers do not make them any less necessary in tying together the narrative.  The first occurs at 4:42 and continues until 5:12, during which Briski explains her purpose—where she and the other subjects are, and what she hopes to accomplish there.  

Much can be gathered, of course, through the interviews with children, but they are best at explaining what they already know, which is life in the brothels.  They are fairly oblivious to Zana’s intentions and the bureaucratic obstacles that nearly keep some of them from leaving home.  The audience learns of these through voice-overs, some typical and some not.  In a scene beginning around 30:00, Briski explains herself to a nun, hoping to make a case for some of the children to be accepted there.  In moments like this, she comes across as more of a subject, like the children, than a filmmaker.  The fact that she has been living there for a “number of years” helping and teaching children gives the impression that she would be provoking these actions regardless of the film, something that might not be true of many Participatory documentaries, which, despite possible social intentions, exist to some degree for the purpose of being a film. 

            Perhaps more in line with newer, recognizable Expository documentaries is Born into Brothels emphasis on the personal.  Not specifying modes (but implying a shift in Expository), Nichols notes, “an important tendency within documentary film since the 1970s has been to shift the focus of these [rhetorical] strategies from using experts and authorities to more personal, individual perspectives” (80).  Specifically citing Born into Brothels, he states, “we learn a great deal about the children…but almost everything we learn relates to the broader question of how to provide a decent chance for a successful life to disadvantaged children” (248).  As stated, we learn much of this through the voices of the children, but something would be lost without Briski’s somewhat authoritative voice. 

            “Two American Families,” a 2013 Frontline episode, also relies on a voice-over to tell personal stories that reflect larger social issues.  Bill Moyers provides the voice of authority, organizing and making sense of the images with the impression of objectivity.  Like Born into Brothels, “Two American Families” depends on multiple modes to tell its story (in this case, a little bit Participatory, a little bit Observational).  That both films address larger issues—abject poverty in India and the decline of the middle class in America—through personal stories while still maintaining a type of voiceover arguably gives them a power that is lacking in the Grierson-style Expository doc and its “impersonal social processes” (Barnouw 99).