Grandpa Ernest Speaks

I have long felt that my great-grandfather’s story deserves to be shared. But I was specifically motivated to tell my family’s story in a way that engages with the ripple effects of trauma; the intergenerational transfer of memory; the ways we construct and negotiate definitions of identity, home, and belonging—and the way these things may be self-determined or foisted upon us. These are conversations I rarely see reflected/represented onscreen in the context of the 'Holocaust film'.

I knew from the start that I wanted the visual language of the film to complicate past and present, archival and contemporary. I was interested in conveying the transmutation of memory through semiotics. In posttraumatic memory, time and narrative are nonlinear, and the film reflects this, with the dual narrative and eras intermingled and motifs echoing between them.

While the film comprises a mix of digital and Super 8 footage, the historical imagery is digitally captured, and the Super 8 footage is contemporary footage. The supporting characters in the film are my father and aunts, the last living generation to have first-hand memories of Ernest, the vintage aesthetic of the 8mm footage evoking the era these memories are grounded in.

In line with post-structuralist conceptions of the archive as an experiential entity, I aimed to engage with the archive of my family’s history: contributing to this archive not just through the finished film but moreover via the self-reflexivity involved in my experience of creating it. Making this film was a labour of love and a true family effort. My musician brother, Ted Bazil, composed the original score. In many ways this documentary is a vehicle for my family and myself to further understand the relationships we have with one another and with the world at large - and how this fits into universal themes of loss and migration.