One of the defining factors of documentary, according to Bill Nichols, is that documentaries are about real people. He goes on to note that the characters are “playing” themselves, in that they presentation may reflect the influence of the cameras presence. Nichols also states that an actor in a stage play or fictional piece must subdue certain aspects of himself in order to present the growth of the character to the audience. He also says that the act of self-presentation allows an individual to reveal as much or as little of himself as he desires, and that as a situation evolves so does the individual. This was apparent in the documentary The Act of Killing by Joshua Oppenheimer.
The film highlights the after-effects on the lives of the men involved in the Indonesian Killings of 1965-1966. In the film, we see that each individual has developed their own way to cope with what they have done. Some feel pride in their actions, seeing no moral blurred lines. Others choose to submerge the memories deep into their subconscious, and do not see any reason to dwell on the past. But the film’s most compelling character is Anwar Congo, former executioner of over a million accused communists. Anwar, though appearing to be a typical elderly man indulging in retirement with his grand-children, is plagued by nightmares of his past. Over the course of filming, the audience is privy to a transformation of Congo as he becomes more familiar with director Oppenheimer and is forced to confront his inner demons that have been festering for years.
Nichols argues that as a situation changed between an individual and the film maker, so does their response to the camera. “Friendliness prompts a friendly presentation, but an introduction of a sarcastic remark may prompt guardedness” (Nichols, 9). We see this in the act of killing in a number of different scenes. For instance, during a drive with one of Anwar’s “gangster” buddies, Oppenheimer begins to ask what can only be described as difficult questions. He began with an inquiry of the man’s moral compass and later asked him if he was haunted by the same guilty memories as Anwar. The man comes off as abrasive and arguably displays no sense of regret, at least not on camera. In contrast, Anwar, as his relationship with Oppenheimer develops, we see a change in him. He opens up to the camera and relates his true feelings to Oppenheimer and the audience. Such a honest revelation is a rare thing to be captured on the screen. By the end of the film, we see Congo dry heaving in self-loathing. This is the definition of self-presentation, and as Nichols says is not something that could have been devised by director.