A fax on acid-free paper

I had the pleasure the other day of being invited to the press launch of Pierre Ellul’s Dear Dom, a 67-minute documentary about Mintoff. Notwithstanding his very extensive experience and training in the field, this is the one that will probably make Ellul’s name. It is certainly one to watch, both in terms of the subject and the unimpeachable competence with which it is tackled.

Why should we let the narrator decide for us that Mintoff fought for change but eventually fought against it?- Mark Anthony Falzon

The film is structured around a letter addressed to Mintoff (hence the title) and narrated by an off-screen voice. Apparently the background is that Ellul tried several times to meet and interview Mintoff in the initial stages of shooting. Il-Perit proved elusive and would always tell him to write a letter or send a fax(!) Ellul did write, but he also took liberties with the medium.

The strangest thing about the film is the narration itself. At least in the English version it sounds somewhat unearthly, a kind of heavenly voice addressing Mintoff as a father would chide a child.

It is also somewhat prone to sanctimoniousness and platitudes (“because change is inevitable, always”). It turns out there’s a reason for this.

What the narrator is trying to do is draw up a balance sheet of Mintoff and his politics. The subtitle itself is a giveaway: ‘The man who fought for change but then fought against it’. Ellul is so painstakingly careful with balance and fairness you’d be pardoned for thinking the Broadcasting Authority were snapping at his heels. On one hand this is to his credit, and I’m prepared physically to fight anyone who says the film is subtle Nationalist propaganda.

But the concern with ‘balance’ may well be the film’s main weakness, in three ways. First, because it is hardly surprising that, as Melville would put it, the devil has something to do with every human consignment to this planet of earth. In other words that Mintoff was/is both ‘good’ and ‘bad’, whatever that means.

Second, because the narrator puts himself in an awkward and possibly untenable position. The implication is that a balanced appraisal of Mintoff must also be transcendental, other-worldly, and detached. The tacit claim is that these qualities give the narrator the right to type out, and therefore to inscribe for posterity as objective truth, his assessment.

Question is, why should we accept this? Why should we let the narrator decide for us that Mintoff fought for change but eventually fought against it, for example? Surely he is as entangled in a particular perspective and individual biography as we are?

Third, what I’ve called the ‘balance sheet’ structure makes for a somewhat predictable plot. Namely that there are six acts to Mintoff’s life thus far: The early years, vaguely associated with elevating the poor and therefore ‘excellent’; the Integration/Independence episode, largely ‘good’ but also evidence of Mintoff’s innate hard-headedness (“an Independence you never recognised because it was not on your own terms”, the narrator scolds); the events of the Interdict, again mostly ‘good’; 1971-6, ‘excellent’ thanks to a never-ending list of initiatives; 1976-81, ‘bad’ because it all goes pear-shaped; and 1981-4, ‘very bad’ because of the usual.

I’ll stick my neck out and say that this has become the standardformula. It is largely Nationalist by inspiration, although Joseph Muscat seems to have accepted it as God-(or narrator-)given truth. It is certainly both fashionable and convenient in a climate of apologies and sanitised readings of history.

Thing is, many Labourites I know who will never write in the papers or give a speech simply do not accept it. It helps to keep in mind that pretty much half the population voted Labour in 1981 and again in 1987.

These presumably included ‘il-Bobby’, a fine gentleman, suldat tal-azzar, and neighbour of mine in Bormla who spent his working life at the Dockyard and who certainly doesn’t think that Mintoff was as mixed a bag as the rest of them. A film on Bobby’s Mintoff – now wouldn’t that be a worthwhile departure?

Not that Bobby is an exception. One of the striking and consequential things about the film is that, save for a certain Carlo Cremona who we’re told was “the only one who Mintoff allowed to serve him tea” and who comes across as remarkably cagey about the brew, it doesn’t really engage with anyone who knew Mintoff at all, or at least experienced him differently. The case in point is Lino Spiteri.

I have no problem with Spiteri. Indeed I was both honoured and pleased to contribute to his Festschrift a couple of years ago. I also think that most of his on-screen analysis of Mintoff’s policies is spot on. That said, there are a few things about him playing such a major part in the film that leave me wondering.

First, Spiteri’s prolificacy means that we’ve heard it all before. I actually remember him saying much the same things at the launch of the Festschrift among other occasions. Second, it is well known that Spiteri and Mintoff never really got on. (I suppose Mintoff saw in him a trustworthy and competent minister and tolerated him, just about.)

Third, Spiteri is every Nationalist’s favourite Labourite, so to say. Put in a less vulgar way this means that he inhabits a liminal space which makes him an ‘acceptable’ commentator but also a very safe one, unlikely to say things that shock bourgeois sensitivities.

Thing is, in a million ways that included dress codes, language, and political targets, it was precisely that kind of outrage that was Mintoff’s speciality.

Perhaps the film’s finest moment is the bit about Mintoff’s tug-of-war with Lord Carrington. It’s exquisitely done and shows the man at his impish best, chuckling and puffing at his pipe as he dodges nosey BBC journalists and squeezes several million pounds out of the trumped English baron.

I’ve a hunch that the reason why Ellul felt he could relax about the story and deal with it playfully is that it concerns Mintoff and an external, non-Maltese and therefore not sensitive in the partisan sense, element. In this case ‘balance’ was simply not in the balance, to wonderful effect.

So, is Dear Dom a flop? I don’t think so. Ellul has invested heaps of time and energy on this one and the result shows, certainly in terms of the high standards of the film.

I wish him well and would be delighted to see the film smash some box office records. Not least because that might encourage him to let go a bit more next time round.

mafalzon@hotmail.com