There comes a moment in John Boorman’s In My Country, when Anna is challenged by her mother to take the moral high ground regarding her recent infidelity. “No more lies” she tells her daughter, explaining the insidious nature of unspoken truths, devastating though they may be. Herein lies the strategic key to In My Country. There is certainly wisdom in her mother’s advice, but also parallels between Anna’s personal experiences and the upheaval consuming South Africa during the Truth and Reconciliation Commission hearings.
These hearings, instigated by Nelson Mandela and presided over by Desmond Tutu, were instrumental in the ethical healing process between mostly whites and blacks (authorities and citizenry) by offering amnesty to perpetrators of crimes against humanity, if they would fully confess to their atrocities. By encouraging her daughter to “clean house“, Elsa is promoting a level of integrity that is admirable if not practical.
It has been suggested more than once that unfaithful spouses who disclose to the injured party care more about assuaging their own guilt than making restitution. And again, structurally, this could rhyme with the larger issues raised in the film. But, arguably, it could also reveal the flaw in a film that at the end of the day, embraces rhetoric over messy, relativistic, more complicated catharsis. Not though, for want of trying.
Anytime you are dealing with this sort of emotionally charged material, tone is key, and you can feel John Boorman restraining himself, making every effort to err on the side of caution. He’s walking a tightrope. If he‘s too invested, he’s guilty of mawkishness and exploitation. If he’s utterly detached (which was probably the smarter choice) the film can seem chilly and dry. The trick is to tap the audience’s emotions without making them feel pummeled and manipulated - to present the facts and give them room to draw their own conclusions.
If I’m making an issue over these meticulous shades of success, it’s not because I believe In My Country is not a fine film. It’s that and more. Boorman has set himself a nearly impossible task. And he’s not afraid to show the unflattering side of his characters, to reveal their humanity with all its unpleasant ramifications.
The alarming questions and potent emotions raised are played out in the volatile relationship between Anna Malan (Juliette Binoche) a white, Afrikaner poet and Langston Whitfield (Samuel L. Jackson) an Afro-American journalist. Both have been engaged to cover the post-apartheid trials in which war criminals must account for their reprehensible and often sadistic behavior. Anna’s participation has caused some tension in her privileged family, even though she was always raised to “respect black people.”
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