The Six Billion Dollar Man
(USA/Germany/France, 126 min.)
Dir. Eugene Jarecki
Programme: Special Screenings (World premiere)
On the surface, celebrated documentarian Eugene Jarecki is the perfect person to tell the complicated tale of WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange. He has produced fine films on complex characters in the past, from 2002’s The Trials of Henry Kissinger, to 2011’s Reagan. Deeper political discussions were held with such titles as Freakonomics, (T)error, as well as his compelling look at the ramifications of Eisenhower’s farewell speech in Why We Fight.
Assange, at the same time, is ripe for examination, going beyond the headlines portraying him as either an enemy of the people or a crusading freedom of information Robin Hood. (And a few films have already told aspects of the Assange story, from Laura Poitras’ Risk to Ben Lawrence’s Ithaka.) A carefully constructed film that delves explicitly with the contradictions of Assange is a welcome one, especially with such access to its subject. To hear from all involved, fans and detractors alike, would be a work of great journalistic impact and perhaps even cinematic importance, joining the likes of Navalny in illustrating how the right film at the right time can be both cinematically engaging and socially and politically significant.
But The Six Billion Dollar Man is no Navalny.
The most aggravating part the film is that Jarecki clearly must know how broken it truly is. The opening voiceover by the director talks about finding a way between the poles of perception, seeing the supposed truth beyond the headlines. There are numerous opportunities throughout to provide a more detailed or nuanced take on the man, or to explore the inherent ironies of a man famous for facilitating the leaking of information, who then decried his own rights being violated by similar leaks against him.
All the large questions – why the selected leaks that benefited one ground over another, why the focus of American hegemony, and why the silence of freedom of information absolutists – are left unanswered. There are a few additional interviews here that go beyond cheerleading, but they feel even more self-serving in context. An interview with Nils Melzer, the special investigator for the U.N. who testified about Assange’s allegedly tortuous conditions in the Ecuadorian embassy apartment and British prison, feels selective at best given the faceless others who shared the same location as the private jet-flying subject of this film.
Similarly, Chris Hedges, the New York Times’ investigative reporter, brings his unimpeachable journalistic bone fides to the story. He provides an endorsement for the argument that Assange is a publisher first and foremost, rather than a malicious and criminal spreader of stolen, classified information.
We hear from Assange’s lawyers, but from none who wanted to prosecute him. We hear from the former President of Ecuador who helped house Assange, but not from his successor who ended up working with the Brits to have him arrested. Only a British home secretary provides additional context, and even here Jarecki can’t help himself, presenting the posh man fiddling with his tea, his sardonic air more arrogant than revealing, making Assange’s own aloof and aristocratic aura feel almost earned.
The film deals with the sexual assault allegations put against Assange, but does so firmly from the context of his defense, making the bold claim that it was only the Swedish government (apparently, and conspiratorially, under pressure from the Americans) that the charges were levelled against the wishes of the alleged victims. Previous interviews are presented, but there’s no follow-up, especially given where the case ended up. [The case was dropped.]
Similar conspiratorial claims are made against late businessman Sheldon Adelson and his casino empire. His close ties to Trump are found to have a direct link to the Spanish company that installed surveillance equipment at the embassy. It’s a powerful allegation, and a convincing one, but it’s stated as fact by one anonymous source. There’s little in the way of providing deeper content, and it’s just left there as a fact that the U.S. is out to get Assange as part of a counteroffensive for the leaked information.
Two things can be right at the same time, of course. The U.S. may well have played a direct role in much of his legal troubles. But so too are allegations of Russian collusion between Assange and his collaborators. (Edward Snowden, himself still a resident in Moscow, provides some new context.) Anything leveled at Assange is considered false and conspiratorial. Anything that alleges nefarious intent by other state actors is considered valid concern.
Over and over people, say that Assange’s paranoia (in some cases, hints of full-on mental illness) was proven justified, echoing the cliché that just because you feel paranoid doesn’t mean you aren’t being watched. Watched he was, of course, but much of that was at least partially under his control, as suggested—his own decision to avoid a day in court in favour of holding up for years in an embassy.
The most egregious moment occurs late in the film, when that same voiceover brushes off any hint that the massive leak of the diplomatic cables caused no real harm. There’s no proof one way or the other, but given the covert nature, it’s impossible to say. By the film’s own logic, swinging conspiracy with abandon, there’s a clear line to draw between Assange aiding the Trump campaign as a vitriolic response to Hillary Clinton’s actions against him. Yet Jarecki’s film is so intent in presenting Assange as both crusader and victim it doesn’t even bother making a real attempt to seeking out the truth behind deeply held secrets.
The Six Billion Dollar Man presents itself as balanced, but it’s really a hagiography of its charismatic lead, surely meant at time of production to add to the echoing chants to “Free Assange.” The inconvenient truth is that he is now free–and was sitting a few rows behind me at the Cannes screening.
Similarly, Jarecki has stated he didn’t want to interview Assange directly after all he’s gone through, a manifestly ridiculous claim on its face given the 12 months since his release. This is totally belied by the fact Assange was engaged enough to attend the Cannes screening, sitting beside his former legal worker/now wife with whom he had two children while in hiding, and a few seats away from the former president in whose embassy he was holed up in. It’s now, after release, that the real questions are to be asked and the real film ready to be made. Instead, we’re left with an ironically limp polemic for a release that’s already occurred, a cry for justice for a man who admitted to guilt to secure his release, buttressed by glowing celebration from superfans like Naomi Klein and Pamela Anderson. Despite Jarecki’s prominence and seeming knowledge of the pitfalls of telling such a tale, he’s fallen into the pit.
In an ideal world, such a misfire wouldn’t matter much, but given that so much of the chaos today, both in America and globally, has been fostered by selective dissemination to unsettle democratic norms, this is no small thing. The lies exposed, as the film tries again and again, are the fault of the liars. However, the lies kept quiet, the secrets still withheld in the servicing of picking winners and losers, is just as nefarious.
