Voices July 21, 2022
Residential school film’s moderate tone may be its greatest strength
By Nicholas Elbers
In the year since the Kamloops Indian Residential School graves discovery, being a Catholic in Canada has been a challenge. Dishonest reporting and sensationalist rhetoric, mixed with last summer’s arson spree, have strained the conversation around reconciliation for many. This has made it hard for the average Catholic who just wants answers or who simply wants to help move reconciliation forward without losing their identity in the process.
It’s within this context that Salt +Light Media have released Walking Together, a new documentary about the delegation of First Nations, Inuit, and Metis peoples that met with Pope Francis in late March of this year.
The documentary is fundamentally for people who want to understand where we are – and where we might go – with regards to reconciliation with Aboriginal peoples in Canada. It does more than simply document the event, and it makes a significant effort to be a good first resource for Catholics preparing for the July 24-29 papal visit to Canada.
By and large, the documentary follows the structure and tone of Pope Francis’ address to the delegation and gives a good rundown of the damage done to Aboriginal people historically, the inter-generational trauma that currently affects their communities, and the reactions of the major delegates to his apology. This helps to ground the documentary in the spirit of encounter and engagement that Pope Francis has made a staple of his papacy and allows the film to further model his approach for viewers.
Still, Walking Together is a tricky film. If you have any understanding of Canada’s residential school history, the documentary’s brevity, mixed with its careful moderate tone, might leave you frustrated with a lack of answers and concrete solutions.
This could also be seen as the documentary’s greatest strength. By emphasizing that the conversations around reconciliation are only just starting, it can withhold a sense of closure. This helps recentre the conversation around Aboriginal people in 2022, and it reinforces the film’s message that we need to be in conversation and listen before we can have solutions.
According to the film’s director and producer, Deacon Pedro Guevara-Mann, it took some iterating to get to this point and there was an earlier cut of the film that had a more aggressive and confrontational tone.
I think they made the right choice. It would have been easy to make people comfortable by avoiding the more harrowing descriptions of abuse, or to throw around a bunch of buzz words like “genocide” or “mass graves” to be more in line with secular rhetoric and narrative. Thankfully, the film’s commitment to Pope Francis’ approach of encounter helps make room at the discussion table for anyone who wants to be there. A much-needed breath of fresh air in a conversation that seems marked with finger-pointing and spite.
By choosing a gentle but no less firm approach, the film is far more accessible and allows skeptics the space they may need to open up and approach things with their hearts. As we are constantly told, residential history is hardly history at all, and the film seems to understand that everyone will come to the truth at their own pace. If you know someone who struggles with the Church’s involvement in the residential school system this film might be a gentle way to help them along their journey.
None of this is to say the film doesn’t have some teeth. Early-on testimonies of abuse are mixed with a montage of old photos. Each picture shows residential school students smiling, frowning, playing – sometimes angry and sometimes laughing – often accompanied by grave-faced priests and nuns. The photos draw a clear connection between the scared and lonely children in the past and the pain being described by the now-adult speakers. It’s deeply unsettling and it effectively links the past with the present.
Another example of this approach can be seen in Chief Willie Littlechild’s introduction. He gives you his traditional name, his English name, and tells you that his residential school name was number Sixty-Five. In the space of seconds, the film presents the dehumanizing horror of our residential school past alongside Littlechild’s hopeful reclamation of his traditional identity. It effectively communicates the entirety of the residential school history subtly and effectively, while providing a holistic foundation for the entire documentary.
Building on this approach to residential school history, one of the film’s strongest sections is its examination of inter-generational trauma. Even though the residential school system is technically recent history, the bulk of the institutional abuse is inaccessible to the average Canadian because it happened decades ago. By emphasizing the way abuse was passed down and even perpetuated by survivors, the film roots reconciliation in the present and creates a sense of urgency within the conversation.
Walking Together does not judge these broken people, but rather, it invites us to imagine a world in which they are once again made whole
Finally, the film places the papal apology within some well-needed historical context. It discusses the history of Church apologies thus far and addresses Pope Benedict XVI’s comments in 2009 when he voiced a deep sadness for the Church’s role in Canada’s residential schools. No one tells you what to think, but you are offered enough information to develop an informed opinion for yourself.
Additionally, the film offers a realistic examination of what a papal apology during a visit to Canada would mean to First Nations, Metis, and Inuit people. Walking Together makes space for an honest look at those hopes and expectations, and it makes a compelling case for an apology on Canadian soil as a charitable concession to people who are still hurting deeply and need the apology as a first step toward healing and hopefully forgiveness. In short, it is the Christian thing to do.
Overall, Walking Together is a refreshing and necessary addition to the conversation that Canadians are having about peace and reconciliation in Canada. It accomplishes its goal to be an accessible resource for Canadian Catholics, but more importantly it makes space for us as Canadian Catholics to have this conversation on our own terms. The film leaves you with a strong sense that you not only should be a part of the solution but that you can be, and this is a gift.
Walking Together was released July 17 and is available to stream for free at slmedia.org/slplus.