There’s a nifty aphorism that states: ‘In war, truth is the first casualty.’ Passabe, filmed in East Timor four-years after independence, takes up this premise to explore the repercussions of historical discrepancies on the town of Passabe, where 74 pro-independence villagers were massacred after the referendum.

After a clumsy first five-minutes that includes a cringe-inducing slow motion recreation of the massacre, Passabe hits its straps and finds a more naturalistic pace. Scrupulous about ensuring all voices are heard, the film-makers interview victims, perpetrators, the village priest, tribal elders, ex-militia members and their families, and UN commissioners and lawyers. What emerges in the film is that everyone has a different view of the events that occurred on the night in 1999, of who was responsible for them, and how the spirits of the dead can be appeased and amends made between villages.

While the focus of the film is on the consequences of the massacre, it’s the incidental shots that give the film its richness and depth’the sun rising over lush countryside, children
playing up to the cameras, elders suggesting fart jokes to put visitors at ease, villagers thanking UN leaders for keeping them safe, women niggling and teasing their husbands
about domestic ineptitude, and men making the sign of the cross then ritually sacrificing pigs to the tribal gods.

The handheld camera and natural lighting make the film startlingly intimate, and while the film-makers do indulge in the occasional National Geographic-style shot, they try not to exploit the poverty and ethnicity of their subjects. Ultimately, the story tells itself’and while it’s a story with no conclusive end, it’s one well worth telling.