During the London Film Festival’s premiere, Flee’s director Jonas Poher Rasmussen discussed the emotional and complex process of creating the most acclaimed animated documentary of the year. It is a multilayered story about a friendship, being a refugee, finding a home, and keeping a secret from everyone.
How did you get to know Amin and his story?
When Flee’s protagonist, the real Amin arrived in my town in Denmark, he was 16. He stayed with a foster family around the corner, he learned Danish really fast, and we started meeting up at the bus stop every morning to go to high school. A long-lasting friendship started.
He never told me or anyone else about his story in all these years. I was curious about it, but he did not want to talk about it. A few years ago, I asked him if I could create his story, but he said he wasn’t ready to share it. He knew that when he would tell his story at some point when he would have been ready, he would have talked to me. It sat on the back of my head. I was invited to a workshop focused on developing ideas for upcoming movies and I was asked if I had an idea, and I thought about this story again and asked him again, and he finally said yes—also because the animation would have made him anonymous. It made things a lot easier for him because he wouldn’t have to expose himself out there.
How did you pitch the story to him? Did you convince him to share it in this way so as to protect his identity?
I called him up and said, “I had this workshop, and I thought I could anonymously tell your story. Are you ready to share your story?” and he said: “I think so, let’s try it out.” In the beginning, the first couple of interviews were just an attempt, a safe space where he could have said, “This is not working for me. I am not ready.” But as time went on and I did more and more interviews, he told me that it was a good way to tell the story.
What was the creative process like for you as a filmmaker? Did you pitch the idea to funders, raise the funding, and then start to build bits and pieces?
I got some initial funding for the first interviews and a script. Then, we did a first visual test and started out finding funders and understanding if it was doable. It is animation which is quite expensive to do in the documentary world which doesn’t have a lot of money, so it was complicated.
When you watch it, it feels like there are many other stories you could have explored with him. Was that the case? How did you decide that this was the narrative structure?
The story takes place during the span of 30 years. Quite early in the process, I could see the theme of home, also in his present-day life as his boyfriend was trying to find a home where they could settle down. He was reluctant. I had a sense of him not having a proper home. Everything I put in the film was structured around a guy trying to find a home.
One of the things that is moving for everyone, but especially for queer audiences, is to hear about his sexual orientation. Was he happy to tell that part of his story?
It was never a question. He came up to me and told me he was gay when I was 17 years old. It was part of him being gay. I don’t think I even asked a question. It was a natural part of our relationship; that’s who he is. I didn’t know how his family reacted to it, so that was a pleasant surprise for me.
Can you talk a bit about this duality between live-action and animation? How have you made the creative choices there?
Because it was animation, I thought it is important to remind people throughout that it is a real story, and the reason why he is pushed out of Afghanistan is because of historical circumstances and events. Throughout the film, it was essential to remind people that this is true and the voice you hear is an actual person. I thought it was crucial to keep it grounded in reality.
How did he react to the film’s final result and the reactions around the world as it is screened?
The first time he saw it, he was very emotional. He was also saying, “I don’t know if it’s a good film.” It is his story, and he is so deeply involved with it. To get the reception we got meant the world to him. He is double-marginalized, and to see that people who are not refugees or queer that relate to the story is just really important to him.
While you were telling the story, did you have to be incredibly careful with safeguarding and safety for him?
It was vital to create a safe space at the beginning. The whole group of interviews was shot at my place, and we agreed from the beginning that he could say, “I don’t want to do this anymore.” Legally, we checked out everything, and we found out that there is no danger or legal issue for him because he was given asylum because he was a minor, and back then, he did not need anything else. The fear he had carried on for so long—he could have told his real story from the beginning, and he would have gotten asylum anyways. He did not know the law.
Flee feels part of a range of films that are redefining the refugee experience. Was that really important to you when you wanted to tell the story, not to tell something that paints everything in a tragic way?
Definitely, but I think, mostly, because my starting point was that I did want to tell a refugee story. I wanted to do a story about my friend. Yes, he is a refugee, but he is much more, and it is really important not to simplify that. Being a refugee is something you live through, and he told me at the beginning, “I don’t want to be victimized. I am a lot of other things besides being a refugee. I am in academia; I am a husband, a cat-owner, and all these other things." I thought it was important to humanize this story.