Apocalypse Now

Por razões sentimentais, tornei-me consumidora de filmes pirateados. O meu último pecadilho foi " A Valsa com Bashir", uma catarse do israelita Ari Folman sobre a guerra no Líbano no Verão de 1982.

Nunca tinha visto um documentário de animação. Vemos pessoas reais, com as suas vozes reais, com gestos, olhares e traumas reais, mas com uma camada de cor em cima. Ou antes, uma máscara de cores, que torna toda aquela história, cobardemente, um pouco mais fácil de suportar. Por isso é necessário bombardear o espectador com os gritos e as caras reais das mulheres palestinianas que choraram o holocausto nos campos de refugiados de Sabra e Chatila. Por isso é preciso mostrar os rostos desfigurados dos mortos e as crianças enterradas nos escombros sem cores a mais por cima.

As imagens valem mais que mil palavras, mas estas, do jornalista Robert Fisk, também nos calam:

"(...) Jenkins and Tveit were so overwhelmed by what we found in Chatila that at first we were unable to register our own shock. Bill Foley of AP had come with us. All he could say as he walked round was "Jesus Christ" over and over again. We might have accepted evidence of a few murders; even dozens of bodies, killed in the heat of combat. Bur there were women lying in houses with their skirts torn up to their waists and their legs wide apart, children with their throats cut, rows of young men shot in the back after being lined up at an execution wall. There were babies - blackened babies - babies because they had been slaughtered more than 24-hours earlier and their small bodies were already in a state of decomposition - tossed into rubbish heaps alongside discarded US army ration tins, Israeli army equipment and empty bottles of whiskey (...)"