The Missing PictureThere are so many different ways that a story can be told, but it’s still a rare treat when a film comes along and presents itself in as unique a way as Cambodian documentary maker Rithy Panh’s The Missing Picture does. After taking home the Un Certain Regard prize at last year’s Cannes, Panh’s documentary about his childhood in a labour camp under Pol Pot’s regime looks set for more awards contention, having made the first shortlist for the Best Foreign Language Film at this year’s Academy Awards.

In 1975 Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge overtook the Cambodian capital Phnom Penh. They rounded up millions of citizens and sent them to work in agricultural labour camps. Personal items were confiscated and citizens became numbers, mere statistics, as they succumbed to famine, disease, and torture in what later became known as the Cambodian Genocide. One by one, Rithy Panh watched his entire family die at the hands of the Khmer Rouge – and here he tells the story of life before and after the fall of Phnom Penh.

In a bold move, Panh shuns traditional documentary techniques, recounting his story by reconstructing scenes using brightly coloured clay figurines. It’s a technique that seems jarring at first, scenes have the look of a child playing with toys and the figurines’ often cute depictions seem at odds with the subject matter. However, when the film settles in, this style allows Panh to share thoughts and ideas that would be otherwise impossible; working in much the same way as 2008’s Israeli animated documentary Waltz With Bashir. The figures never actually move, scenes play out in static, immobile silence, as the citizens perform their reticent protest.

Panh repeatedly refers to the fact that only official images exist from those fated years of Pol Pot’s rule, images showing happy workers, striving hand in hand to create a self sufficient, healthy nation. The reality as we all know was far more grim, inspiring Panh to attempt to recreate the eponymous “missing picture”. A representation of not just the unseen atrocities, but an attempt to fill in the family life that was clutched away from him at such a young age. Panh muses on what might have become of his parents, siblings and nephews.

It’s difficult when showing atrocities like this to move a film beyond simply pointing out what happened, but Panh takes a philosophical approach that instantly places The Missing Picture up with the classics of documentary filmmaking. This extraordinary film tells its story with humour, contemplation, and touching sadness in a way that has rarely been matched in recent years. The film mixes beauty with utter devastation, often at the same time, resulting in something that, while often difficult to watch, is incredibly important.

[Rating:4/5]