Review: Flee (Jonas Poher Rasmussen, 2021)

Flee (Jonas Poher Rasmussen, 2021) is an animated documentary that explores the nature of memory and trauma by taking the viewer on an emotional journey. It uses animation to present the memories of Amin Nawabi, an Afghan refugee credited under a pseudonym. Encouraged by his anonymity, he tells director Jonas Poher Rasmussen his story (Grobar 2021). 

The film opens in Copenhagen sometime close to present day. Here, there are two timelines. We begin with adult Amin laying on a rug recounting his childhood in an interview with Rasmussen, a long-time friend. The other timeline shows the story he is telling of his journey to Denmark from conflict-ridden Afghanistan. Having endured the loss of his father, Amin first flees to Moscow with his mother and siblings. We then spend the majority of this ‘memory’ timeline following the family’s gradual move away from Russia. After a failed escape attempt together, the family is split up and Amin finally lands in Copenhagen alone. 

When we first go back in Amin’s memories to his childhood, the animation appears to reflect the very nature of his memories (Fig. 1). He begins to paint an image of his earliest childhood memory and, as the image forms from his words, we see a rough, featureless animation style slowly sharpen and fill in with detail (Fig. 2).  Through his voiceover and the gradual introduction of A-ha’s ‘Take On Me’ in his early years, we get the distinct impression that this memory is not readily available. Rather, it forms in Amin’s mind at the same pace as we see it formed in ink.

Fig. 1 - Amin’s memories of his childhood.

Fig. 2 - Adult Amin morphs into his childhood self.

As Amin tells us his age, we see the outline of a child. Amin tells us he’s in Kabul. The outlines of mountains begin to form. The use of animation allows us to see childhood as we often do as adults. The memories are rough around the edges and come together piece by piece. Once we fully remember, there’s an onslaught of colour, noise and senses that bring the childhood scene to life. 

It’s joyous in a way that Western audiences may not expect. Young Amin dances through the street in his sister’s nightdress, A-ha blasting through his pink Walkman headphones. The animated recreation of 1980s Kabul allows us to see it as Amin does, rather than the war-torn city of recent memory. We are immersed in Amin’s Kabul. A Kabul where conflict is out of Amin’s earshot and attractive actors wink at young boys from posters and playing cards. This immersion sets the movie up to take the audience on a journey to experience alongside Amin. Animation grants a particular freedom to the filmmakers, allowing them to portray this story with the inherent subjectivity involved in recounting a distant, five-year period.

Fig. 3 - Amin recalls traumatic fears of being caught.

As the story turns darker in tone, lighting is used to astonishing effect. Amin’s early childhood and his current life with his partner appear fully lit. Elsewhere, we get pools of light when he’s interviewed, paralleling the glow of endless telenovelas as the family hide out in Moscow. Light beams through hatches and doorways during the traumatic and challenging journeys the characters make. We see the glints of dark eyes, and figures isolated from the world by darkness. We only glimpse portions of Amin’s darkest memories, catching fragments of the tragedy he went through (Fig. 3). 

At his lowest points, the animation itself descends into a sketch-like imagining of his trauma (Fig. 4). This style is employed when Amin wasn’t present with his loved ones, or the memory is particularly painful for him to recall. We see these tortured outlines form the shapes of his deepest fears and the imagined drowning of his mother. This aesthetic and the crack in his voice clearly reflect Amin’s state of mind as he recalls these passages of his story.

With the animation used so vividly and successfully to relay Amin’s perspective, live-action archival footage is used, jarringly at first, to establish and reiterate the historical setting. This is effective at showing the wider community and historical events outside of Amin’s direct experience.  However, it does disrupt our immersion in Amin’s memories. After all, the archival footage does not take us along with Amin in his memories, but instead serves as wider context for the viewer only.

Fig. 4 - Sketch-like imaginings of trauma in Flee.

The use of archival footage isn’t the only more traditional documentary mechanism we see. In the present day, we see scenes of a film being made, with Rasmussen making the decision to animate a live-action set up. Amin sits on the side of the interview couch, and we see a microphone and camera, giving insight into the recordings that the animation is presumably based on.

At one point Amin reads aloud a scene from his diary.  This is another behind-the-scenes moment that fits with traditional documentary making, reflecting Jonas Poher Rasmussen’s own relation to Amin’s story. The use of narration, intercut archival footage, and the back-and-forth between subject interviews and event reconstruction echo the familiar beats of documentary filmmaking. These techniques remind us of the true nature of the Amin’s story. 

The Kabul that Amin knows is long gone, however. Artefacts from his childhood don’t make the journey, and we find out over the course of the movie that his family ends up scattered across Europe. As such, animation fills in the gaps. It allows us to experience these inaccessible events but also to experience these things as Amin. Tracking back through Amin’s memories adds emotional resonance to the film, bringing us closer to the experience to go on the journey with him. The film also shows us the lasting impact of his trauma in adulthood. We not only see the trauma taking place but understand the long-term impact it has on young Amin.

Present-day interviews and insight into Amin’s life with his partner, Kasper, make obvious the need for animation’s ability to preserve Amin’s anonymity. It’s easy to imagine a version of the film where only the flashback scenes are animated, and Amin’s present relationships are filmed in live-action. But perhaps that would create too much distance. We are made up of our experiences and our present is affected by our memories, after all. If Amin’s life has been animated up to this point, the continued animation reflects his ongoing journey. His experience as someone who fled Afghanistan is not finished, and nor is the trauma he carries. 

Maintaining the same visual style throughout Amin's life, save for the particularly traumatic, misremembered parts, keeps all the action grounded in truth. If we accept that the interview room, apartment, and boyfriend are real, then we must also know that the events that he endured are real too. To return to an earlier point, this reflects how one experiences memories. The animation feels not quite 'real', in the way live action scenes might, but the sequences are full of truth. Indeed, the abstract depictions of trauma accompanied some of the moments that felt most 'real' to me as a viewer. The violence and anguished faces are all we see, surrounded by restless black space. There are no distractions from the core of what happened and the truth of that trauma.

Fig. 5 - Kasper interviews Amin in the present day.

In a scene towards the end of the film, Amin reflects on how telling his story has helped him connect what he went through with his priorities as an adult (Fig. 5). As he resolves to commit to settling down with Kasper, it feels as if he’s coming to the end of a chapter. Indeed, the animation comes to an end too, signalling the end of the interview and story that he’s telling. As the final scene of the couple in their garden cuts to live-action footage of the same shot, we can feel hope that Amin may have finally stopped fleeing.

All in all, Flee is a stunning portrayal of Amin’s escape and the impact it continues to have on his life. Memories are brought to life by animation so that we’re immersed in Amin’s journey and emotionally connect to his experience. Archival footage provides wider context too, but this sometimes lessens the effect of revisiting his past with him. Flee succeeds most when it leans into the subjectivity of Amin’s story, and less so when it tries to bolster his truth with a historical overview. Despite this, following Amin’s journey through Flee is an experience that lingers long after we see him walk out of sight and into his future.

**Article published: April 8, 2022**

References

Grobar, Matt. 2021. “‘Flee’ Director Jonas Poher Rasmussen Helps A Friend Grapple With Horrific Traumas From His Time As A Child Refugee — Sundance Studio” Deadline, January 28, 2021. https://deadline.com/video/flee-director-jonas-poher-rasmussen-sundance-documentary-video-interview-news/.

Biography

Mark is a fantasy/animation podcast listener who works in communications for a national charity in the UK, helping people share their stories to inspire and engage others in the community. Mark is passionate about LGBTQ+ storytelling and representation in all its forms and provides communications support to Outvertising, the UK-wide advocacy group for LGBTQ+ inclusion in marketing and advertising. Their interest in animation stems from Disney and its resonance with the queer community despite a historic lack of meaningful on-screen representation.

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