- Well, I'm delighted to have in the studio with me today
award-winning photojournalist Kevin Carter.
We've read a lot about the so called Bang Bang Club.
Is there in fact such a club?
- Um, I mean, this, it's just a label.
I mean, almost a joke really.
Somebody called us that, and... We go out together...
on assignments
and so we're always together.
You know, safety in numbers. That's the idea.
- And are you competitive amongst yourselves?
I mean, do you compete? - Oh yeah.
Everybody, at the end of the day,
wants to come back with the best shot.
- So Kevin, what do you think makes a photograph great?
- Hmm...
- Kevin?
(radio): Soweto residents say that in the early hours of this morning,
members of the Inkatha Freedom Party attacked sections of Soweto,
known to be sympathetic to the ANC.
Armed with hangers and spears and wearing their signature red headbands,
the Inkatha warriors marched into a number of residential areas--
(people shouting)
(screeching tires)
- Go!
(people shouting)
(camera shutter clicking)
- Hey, bru! Get out of my fuckin' frame.
- Sorry!
- Who are you? - Greg Marinovich.
- Kevin. Kevin Carter.
- Pleasure. (camera shutters clicking)
- Who are you working for? - I'm freelance.
- No shit.
Hey, are we finished here? - Yeah.
- Looks like it.
- Ignore him. Chief photographer at The Star.
- Yeah, I know.
- Now he's all pissed off 'cause he missed the action.
- Kevin, you ready? - Coming!
Forget the long lens, bru. Stuff only looks good up close.
Good luck.
- Thanks, bru.
(singing in the background)
Hey, gents.
Why'd they kill him?
- They don't need a reason.
We are ANC and they are Inkatha.
Zulus.
- Thanks.
- Where are you going?
- I'm going to go talk to them, in the hostel.
- That's a shortcut to heaven.
- Ah well. I want to see for myself.
(boy speaking in local dialect)
What's that mean?
- I'll tell them what happened to you.
(dog barking)
- Hello.
(speaking in local dialect)
(people shouting)
(fast-paced music, drum beats)
Hello.
- What do you want here, man?
- I'm press.
I'm press. (speaking in local dialect)
Please, please... - Ay, ay, ay, ay...
- I'm a photographer. I just... I just want to talk.
(speaks indistinctly)
Why are you here?
- I'm a photographer. I'm just looking for some pictures.
(local dialect)
(laughter) (men conversing with each other)
- Sit down.
- Thanks. - Yeah...
- Hey, what's this?
(men conversing in local dialect)
(whistling) (man raising his voice)
(laughter)
- Drink, drink, drink.
(laughter)
(local dialect)
(laughter)
- What are you going to do with our picture?
- I want to tell Inkatha's side of the story.
(local dialect)
- Why you don't do like all the other journalists do?
They're going to the township and they speak to the clevers,
the ANC comrades. Why? - No, no, no.
I want to hear your side of the story.
Can I ask what happened today?
(local dialect)
- You must listen and I want you to understand.
You see?
We, we come here for one reason.
One reason only.
To work.
And these comrades, the Mandela boys,
they are telling us not to go to work.
They say we must join the stay-away.
Now what if we get expelled from our jobs?
Are they going to give us money to take care of our children?
Are they going to give us money to take care of our families back home?
(men shouting, agreeing with each other in local dialect)
- My brother was stopped by this comrade.
He was from the shop, carrying the plastic bag full of food.
They told him that there was a boycott,
so he should not go and buy food.
After that, you know what they did?
They made him drink cooking oil and paraffin
and also they pushed washing powder in his mouth.
(local dialect)
(shouting angrily)
(chanting)
(local dialect)
- What kind of a place is this
where children, they tell their elders what to do?
I mean, what kind of a place is this where children do not obey their parents?
Today we taught them a very good lesson.
(men shouting in local dialect)
(cheering and shouting)
(rhythmic music)
(camera shutter clicking)
(laughter)
(camera shutter clicking)
- Ay, ay, ay, ay... (local dialect)
- No? (local dialect)
Okay, okay.
(cheering and shouting)
(whistling)
(people shouting)
What's going on?
- He's the enemy. He's been shooting at everybody.
- I don't hear any shots. (local dialect)
(shouting)
(camera shutter clicking)
(local dialect)
- Not a problem. Not a problem.
(local dialect)
(singing, whistling)
- He's not Zulu.
He's a Xhosa like Mandela. He deserves to die.
Goodbye, my friend.
(local dialect)
- Shoot us.
(camera shutter clicking)
(local dialect)
- I'm looking for the photo editor. - Just in there.
(knocking) - Excuse me?
I'm looking for the photo editor.
- I'm Robin Comley.
I'm the picture editor.
- Hey. My new china. How's it?
- How's it, bru? - What do you want, man?
- I've got some pictures from inside the hostel.
- In the hostel? You don't mean inside?
- Yeah, inside. - Are you serious?
- Fuck.
You must be out of your mind.
- Let's see them.
Ken, show him the dark room.
- Let's go.
- Went in!
- They're fantastic, Ron.
- Absolutely.
Oh, fuck me. I can't use them.
Our readers might find it a bit much over their Rice Krispies tomorrow morning.
- Ron, are you ever gonna grow some?
- We can use this one and this one as a Sunday feature.
We don't get images like this every day.
- Yeah. All right. Maybe.
Just show me a layout.
- The framing's weak.
Half of them are soft.
Kev.
Greg, do you have a portfolio?
- Sure.
- So which way did you get in, bru?
- I could see where they were going and I just followed them.
- So did anyone stop you?
Were they cool with you? - I thought they were going to kill me, yeah,
but I could shoot for the most part. - Fuck!
-It's not bad. - Fucking Speen is back, man.
- I was shooting some old time rituals.
It's a circumcision ceremony there.
- You shoot colour too, huh?
- Yeah, but this isn't the F64 club, bru.
- Yeah, what he means is our shit doesn't sit still. Not like this.
I like this stuff.
It’s not bad.
Okay, I'm out of here.
I think it's going to be better if we go in earlier.
Everybody else can sleep late and file shit.
I'll see you there, bru.
Cheers, Rob. - Cheers.
- Joao. Joao Silva.
- Pleasure.
- Well...
I told you to get in close, didn't I? - You did, yeah.
- Well done, bru. Well done.
The, ah... the bill... I don't have my wallet...
- I got it, Kev, I got it. - Thank you.
- Did I just get a job?
- No. Only Ken and Kevin are full-time.
But I'll give you the same deal as Joao. On days that you work for us,
I'll pay you a day rate.
You get paid the same if we use all of your pics or none of them.
But you can sell what we don't to AP or Reuters.
That's where you make your real money.
Here. It’s for today's pics.
Shit.
- Why did you go out there today?
- Because it scared me.
- Because it scared you?
Do you always do things just because they scare you?
- Not always, but sometimes.
Can I buy you dinner?
- Can you afford to buy me dinner?
- Oh, I can now.
- This time I'll buy you dinner. Use that to buy yourself a better camera.
We'll have to make it quick. I have to be back at work in 40 minutes.
(camera shutter clicking)
- Why don't you just get a new strap, bru? - Because it's leather.
I'm ready. I'm ready.
- The new guy.
- How's it? - New gear?
- Yeah. - Oh.
Ready for some fun?
One second.
It protects...
the advance mechanism on the bottom.
I just saved you money on resale, bru.
- Yeah? - Yeah.
- How's it, Greg?
- How's it?
- Nice camera, man. - Thanks, bru.
- So what's the weather report?
- They say there's about 2,000 Inkatha warriors
two clicks from here.
They're heavily armed. They're on their way to the comrades.
Let's go.
- Yeah. - Let's go!
- Hey, Joao, is that a fucking scanner?
- Yeah.
- You're a criminal degenerate, you know that?
(chuckling) If the cops catch us with that,
they'll put us in fucking jail, man. - Well if they stop us,
it belongs to the new guy. - Thanks.
-It's down there.
Right there.
- Ah, what have we got here?
(people shouting, banging on the van)
- This is fun.
- Just smile and be cool.
Press on foot. Press.
It’s press, eh?
Press on foot.
Press.
Press, eh? Press. - They're using muti.
(singing)
- They think it makes them invulnerable.
- That's where they are, on the right.
- Ah, shit. Here they come. - All right.
- Just park on the right there. - Yeah.
(sighing)
- Okay. Here we go.
(people shouting)
- You ready?
- Yeah. - Are you sure?
- Yeah.
(people singing, cheering)
(whistling)
Watch him.
It’s all about reading the moment.
Watch him, man. He's the best.
He always works from the outside in.
(camera shutter clicking)
And when it peaks...
You're there.
It’s a thing of beauty, my friend.
Then, you shoot a black frame.
That just simply tells the desk that's your best shot.
Let's go find one ourselves. Huh?
(crowd screaming)
(gunfire, screaming)
- That's an army-issue R1 .
- Where the fuck are they getting the guns?
- What the fuck do you care, man? It doesn't matter.
Just take the picture.
(camera shutter clicking)
(singing, screaming, gunfire)
(camera shutters clicking)
(gunfire)
- I guess the muti isn't working so well this morning.
- They still think it's working fine, just not for them.
(gunfire, singing, screaming)
(metallic noise)
(trucks approaching)
(machine-gun fire)
(people shouting)
(camera shutter clicking)
- Go.
(camera shutter clicking)
(gunfire)
- Can't you at least pretend to be scared?
(gunfire) (chuckling)
(rock music)
- Cool.
I heard about this new disco
So I really wanted to dance
I just want to go in and see my friend Romeo in there
Hiya
But when I phoned up my honey
She kept talking to me about other men
- Come, let's grab a drink. Let's get a drink.
It made me sore I couldn't believe my ears
So I felt real mad. . .
- Joao!
Hi, I'm Viv. You must be Greg.
- Yeah, hi.
- So you decided to join up with these crazies, eh?
(laughter) - Ken!
- I want you meet someone.
- So is this the young man?
- Greg, this is Alf Khumalo.
-It's really nice to meet you, sir. It’s an honor.
I know your photographs well.
- How are you feeling with our big chief?
- You're not gonna tell him what a racist bastard I am, are you?
- Well, you still young, Ken, you'll get over it, you know.
- So Ken, another whitey photographer making money
off the spilled blood of Africans, eh?
- Ah, Sonny. Cool it.
(local dialect)
Let him be.
- Fuck it. I'm too thirsty to have this argument.
Promised this oke a drink. Alf, Sonny, Thoko.
- Cheers.
- See you guys later. - Welcome, Greg.
- Thanks, sir.
- Two beers, please.
- Whew, what was that about?
- Ah, it's much harder if you're a black photographer.
- Here you go. - There you go, bru.
- Thanks.
- If you're an Inkatha supporter, the ANC comrades want to kill you.
If you're ANC, the Inkatha Zulus want to kill you.
So really, there's always somebody
who wants to kill you. Doesn't matter whose side you're on.
And you...
You're lucky 'cause you're white.
As you've shown,
you can go anywhere.
School's out, china. Let's drink.
Cheers, man. - Cheers!
- You're Ken Oosterbroek, aren't you?
Yeah.
- Hi. - Hi.
(clears throat)
- This is Greg. Greg, Sam.
- Pleasure.
(humming)
Where will you be when the saviour comes
Will you be on your knees or behind a gun
Will you be happy to see him
Or will you want to run
Will you be afraid of what the people say
When you look at what the people have done
And if you chance
To meet him
Will you know he's the one
That you have been seeking
Is it love Whoa whoa whoa
Whoa whoa That you want
Will you feel his spirit in the air
Will it take you...
Na na na na na na...
-It's Kevin's.
-It's great. - Yeah.
Come and see this.
I'm calling it Our Hidden War.
These are the shots I'm gonna use.
Three of them are yours.
- Shit.
You should use this one too.
- Hands off.
- And, ah... that one.
- Stop. Stop it.
- They'll never let you run this. - They have to.
These pictures are gonna show up on front pages all over the world.
We'll look like idiots if we don't use them ourselves.
We don't know what the government will do.
(sighing)
We have no idea what we can get away with.
- Oh, so you want to see what you can get away with?
- You're a fucking troublemaker, you know that?
- Is it? - Yeah.
I don't date photographers.
- Yeah?
- You keep terrible hours,
you drink too much and you're crazy.
- Yeah? - Yeah.
And then there's some bad stuff too.
(sighing)
(paper flapping)
(rock music)
- Not too much to report but anger and pain
and thinking, "Where's the way out?"
How do we get out of this mess?
Bloody little daylight in the daylight, if you catch my drift.
But tonight, my brus,
tonight the moon is high.
You can see the new century coming towards us
and it sounds like this.
(rock music)
Can't get the stink off
He's been hanging round for days
Comes like a comet
Suckered you but not your friends
- You don't tell anyone about this.
One day he'll get to you and teach you...
- She knows what she's doing. Anyway, it's about time.
- You know, I always thought it was gonna be me.
- Kev, it was never gonna be you, man.
- But Robin and the new guy?
- Yeah, the new guy.
(laughing)
- How's it? - How's it?
- Yeah. How's it?!
- Out with it! - Come on!
- What? What? - Sex with Robin.
Okay, we make you join our little club and then...
- You're in the club now. - I have no idea what you're talking about.
(rhythmic music)
Bang bang
(camera shutter clicking)
Bang bang...
(weeping)
(rhythmic music continues)
You're mad.
There's cops in there.
- Go on,
they're too shit scared to come out.
Believe me.
(man in vehicle):It's marijuana!
- Did you catch my show last night?
Every... fucking cut, every one.
Stones, every cut.
- Kevin, do you ever sleep?
Can you believe it? Can you fucking believe it?
- Kev, shut up. (woman wailing)
- Shadows.
(camera shutter clicking)
Fuck! - What's wrong?
- I thought he was still alive.
- He's dead. It’s just a body spasm.
(camera shutter clicking)
Kev, if you've got the shot, move on, man.
(clears throat)
(shutter clicking)
(train approaching)
- Ugh!
- Who is he? - He's Inkatha.
- Are you sure? - He's Zulu.
- Yeah he's Zulu, but how do you know he's Inkatha?
- We know him. We are sure.
(kicking) - Ugh! Ugh!
(camera shutter clicking)
(stabbing)
- Stop it! Stop!
- Stop taking pictures.
- Yeah, I'll stop taking pictures when you stop killing him.
- You saw what they did to us.
- What if he's not guilty? - Doesn't matter.
It will be a warning for the next ones.
(mob yelling)
(thud)
(camera shutter clicking) (man groaning)
- Greg, behind you!
Greg!
Get out of there!
(camera shutter clicking)
- Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
He's burning. He's burning.
So I ran after him. The sun was right behind him.
Didn't have time to check my meter, so I press the button.
I just kept thinking F 5.6, F 5.6.
I started to frame for my next shot.
Just then, this guy runs up with a fucking panga...
and brings it down on his head.
- You're shaking.
- But at least I've got the pictures.
- Greg you know we're not going to be able to use the pictures.
They're too graphic. - Then what the fuck am I doing out there?
It wasn't my call. - Yeah, I know, but fuck!
(applause)
- Ah, there he is!
There's the little fucker.
- It was fucking mal out there today, huh?
- Okay.
Tell him.
- I sent your pictures to AP, they sent it to London.
They wanted every fucking shot you took today.
Do you know what that means? - What?
- Your shots all over the world.
(laughter) - You're joking.
-It's payday, buddy.
- A joke... - Money! Money, baby!
- Yes! Woo! - Yes! Greg!
You did it!
(rhythmic music) Bang bang...
- Robin Comly.
Robin Comly, is she here?
- Yes.
I'm Robin. - I'm looking for Greg Marinovich.
- What do you want him for?
- He has taken a photograph of a crime. I want him and the rolls of film.
- Greg is freelance. He comes and goes.
And we didn't use this particular picture,
so I don't think we can help you.
- A crime was committed.
A man brutally murdered.
We intend to obtain his photographs and identify the perpetrators.
I have here a 205 subpoena
which compels Mr. Marinovich to testify or face arrest.
By law, you must sign to acknowledge receipt.
Make sure he gets it.
- Shit. - We've got no choice.
We have to notify the police that we've seen you.
- Are you okay?
- I don't know, bru. - What you gonna do?
- I'm not fucking testifying.
I mean, I don't like what they did, but I'm not fucking helping the cops.
- Just give them the photographs.
- Fuck that. - What do you want to be a hero for?
- There's only one reason why he shouldn't.
If he gives them the photographs and if he testifies,
the next day, in every township, on every street, we're all targets.
We'll have taken sides.
(sighing)
- I think you should make yourself scarce for a while.
(camera shutter clicking)
Hi.
- Came off the telex 10 minutes ago. It’s a Pulitzer.
- You're joking?
- No, I'm not. - They can't arrest him now.
Too much publicity. - Well, do you know where he is?
- Yeah.
- So what are you waiting for? Give him a call.
(all): Yeah!
- Another one for Greg! Pulitzer boy! (all): Yeah!
Woo!
- Yes! - Go, Kev! Kev, Kev, Kev, Kev!
(tinkling) - Thank you...
Listen, can I, can I, can I say a couple of words?
Hello?
I just - I just want to say a couple of words.
I'm Ronald Graham,
and for those of you who don't know, I'm the editor of The Star.
And I just want to add my... (applause)
I’d just like to add my voice to the congratulations for Greg.
You know, winning a Pulitzer is no small thing.
You know we are very, very proud of Greg.
Even though we weren't
the people who published the photos in the first place.
(crowd booing) - Big mistake!
- Oops! It's our mistake.
- Your mistake.
- But I think we're forgiven because Greg is here tonight.
Actually, you know, Greg, when you, ah...
When you went off to New York to collect your prize,
a lot of us thought you weren't gonna come back again,
but here you are.
- I had to come back, Ronnie. There's no bang bang over there.
(cheering)
- Congratulations! It’s well deserved!
- Woo!
- So, congratulations, Greg. That was awesome.
- Oh, thank you. I appreciate that.
- Ah, fuck, Greg. Screw your award.
Your fucking photograph, it's everywhere.
The government is using it to show
how we animals cannot govern ourselves. How the fuck do you like that?
- Sonny, leave it. - Even the ANC says
it's a white man's photo taken for white man's purposes.
- Sonny, it's not his fault. - Is that what you think?
- Let him enjoy his moment, man. - Sonny, is that what you think?
- Forgive him, Greg.
(toilet flushing)
- You okay?
- No. No.
Greg, I, I keep having this dream
and in it, I'm dying.
- I think you've had one pint too many, bru.
- No, it's... I'm getting...
I'm getting crucified
and there's this big fucking lens
that just keeps zooming in on me.
- Yeah? - Yeah!
-It's just a dream, Kev.
- I wake up screaming my head off.
- Kev...
What am I supposed to say?
- I don't know.
- Maybe you need to see a doctor.
- Yeah, yeah.
- You're just reading into everything, huh? - Yeah, that's what I do.
- Let's get out of here.
- Sure. Now? - Yeah.
- All right. We're going. - Cheers.
- You know, he didn't know what it was.
I heard they had to tell him what a Pulitzer was.
It’s dumb luck.
Ask me, Ken. I'll tell you. Pure dumb luck.
(laughing) - Yeah, Jimmy.
You just have the sheer bloody luck
to find yourself ten feet away from a burning man.
Luckily, you're just two feet away from an oke with a knife,
taking swipes at the back of your neck.
I mean, you'd be sure to keep your eye nailed to your viewfinder, right?
You check your F-stop, used for a wall of flame.
Right?
So when you're that lucky,
come see me.
And we can talk about whether Greg Marinovich deserves a Pulitzer.
- I'm just saying, Ken.
(She speaks indistinctly.)
- It was a great night.
I was really surprised by Ronald's speech.
I really didn't expect him to do that.
Ah, okay.
Okay.
Greg.
Slow down. Slow down.
Greg.
Greg, stop. Greg.
Greg. Stop.
Greg, stop it. Stop it! What's wrong with you?
- Nothing. (panting)
- Doesn't seem like nothing.
- I'm sorry.
It’s all fucked up.
I win this prize
and then the ANC publicly accuses me of being a state spy.
I fucking hate them all.
All of them.
The... Inkatha, the comrades, this place.
I fucking hate it all! - Greg.
Greg.
It’s okay.
Okay.
(soft music)
- Hey.
I'm Kevin.
- I know who you are.
- You do? Shit.
My own mother doesn't even know who I am.
(chuckling)
- Um...
You're one of those photographers
who takes the pictures?
- Yeah, I am.
- I really like your pictures.
- Thank you.
Are you a... are you a journalist?
No, I'm-I'm a teacher.
- A teacher?
Listen, um, my chinas and me,
we're having a braai on Sunday.
- Okay.
- Would you come?
I mean, your friends
are-are more than welcome to-to join... It'll...
- I’d love that. - Yes?
- Yes. - Okay.
- Here.
Let's try this again.
(chuckling)
Cheers.
- Cheers. (glasses tinkling)
- Greg, it's a great picture.
- Yeah.
It is.
(sighing)
You know, sometimes I think about doing something else.
- I'm not sure I believe you.
- I'm not sure I'm telling the truth.
(laughing)
(soft music)
Sometimes I feel so happy
Sometimes I feel so sad
Sometimes I feel so happy
But mostly you just make me mad
- Oh!
(laughter) Baby you just
Make me mad - Your man here...
(indistinct mumbling)
Linger on
Your pale blue eyes
- No! - No?
Linger on
Your pale blue eyes
- Ah!
- Fucking butchery this morning.
- I really like this one.
- She's not going to last more than a week anyway.
- Hey, Joao, fuck you.
- What the fuck?
Ken, come check this.
- We've just done a layout over here.
It’s a story about you guys. You're going to love it, it's great.
- There's no way you're printing this.
- What, bru?
- We're not fucking paparazzi.
- Come on, you kind of are.
- Fuck you, man. It’s like saying we're fucking hyenas.
- No, no, look, it's a really positive story
about you guys, okay?
- Take it out, you fucking wanker, or I'll take you out.
- He's right, bru.
Take it out. - All right, all right, Joao.
What about club?
The Bang Bang Club?
- That's so fucking lame.
- No, club's fine.
Leave it in. Sam, can you please get the plates?
- I'm going to.
Long have we awaited...
- Bye, all. Thanks, Sam. - Cheers.
Ciao, Viv.
- Cheers.
- Excuse me, sir? Hello.
I'm Abdul Shareef. I'm a photographer as well and...
I'm just trying to find out how do I join this Bang Bang Club.
- Just tell him it's fucking full.
- There's no club, man.
You know the Macho Chicken just off Old Potch Road?
- Yes sir, I can find it.
- Well if you turn up there one morning, who knows.
- Thank you.
Thank you.
- You were very nice to that guy.
- Not long ago I was that guy.
(dog barking)
Morning, my chinas.
How's it, bru? - Morning.
- Hey what's with all the journos? - Greg. Morning.
- Thanks. - Ah, them?
Yeah, they've been here every morning the past week.
Waiting.
- Yeah, I've been getting phone calls about this fucking Bang Bang Club shit.
Some Frenchman called me from Paris. Wants to know how he can become a member.
- What? - No shit.
- Yeah. - Hey, bru.
- Hey! - Who's this?
-It's Abdul. I told him he could ride along.
- Greg's been picking up stompies.
Come on. - Kevin.
- Abdul. Nice to meet you. - Let's go, Kev.
(cars starting)
- What the fuck?
They're following us in.
Come on man, fuck this shit.
- Ah... What's he doin'?
- Hey, assholes!
You make me fucking sick!
Find your own fucking bang bang!
(laughing) - Sure...
- Hey.
Who else did you tell about this place? - Nobody.
- Don't fuck with me, man. - Seriously, nobody.
- How many people did you tell? -It's not his fault.
It’s not his fault, Joao. They followed us in.
- Ah, okay, man.
(police radio chatter)
- Greg. Look down there.
(tires screeching)
(camera shutter clicking)
(police radio chatter)
(local dialect)
- Get down! Get down! The Zulus are over there, get down!
- What's happening? - There's no shooting.
- They got a sniper with a silencer. Get down.
- Get down!
(gunshot) Ah!
- He's been hit!
- Shit!
- Here! Here, here, here, here!
(gunshot) - Oh fuck!
Is he dead? - How the fuck do I know?
- He's breathing. I think he's breathing.
Fuck! I told him he could come.
- He wanted to come, man. He wanted in.
- Now you see what we go through every day. - Get him in the car.
- Come on. (all): One, two, three, go.
- Go, go, go.
(gunfire)
- In the car. (all): Go, go, go.
- I got the door.
- Watch, watch, watch your head.
- Let's go!
(gunfire)
(van starting)
Go! (tires screeching)
(gunfire)
Faster, Joao!
Come on bru, come on!
Stay with us. Come on.
(mournful music)
(camera shutter clicking)
(police siren wailing)
(phone ringing) (sighing)
- Yeah...
Kevin? Yeah, I know...
He's what?... Ah, shit. Okay, I'm on my way.
- Ah, he works for us. (local dialect)
Is that it? (local dialect)
- We paid your bail.
You okay?
- Kev, what the fuck happened, man?
(sighing)
- I ripped my shirt, man. Fuck.
- All right, let's go.
- I'll tell you, but you know how I was supposed
to cover that thing with, um, with Mandela at the hotel?
You know? I was supposed to be there.
But then... but then something went wrong with my bakkie
and then there's a fucking tree, man,
and I fucking went right into it.
And then, the fucking cops came and they found my stash, man.
Ken, I need a favour.
- What?
- I just need one frame of Mandela.
That's it. You know, you said you were going to cover it.
You said you were going to cover it for The Star.
Right? That's all I need. I need something to bring in.
- No. No way. Not again, man.
My frames belong to the paper.
- I wasn't there. - You weren't there?
- No.
- I just need one frame. Something to bring in.
- Fuck you, Kev. No.
- Just give him a frame.
- Okay. But you must get your shit together, you understand me?
- I promise.
- Calm down. Kevin... Kevin!
Please.
It wasn't my decision.
Kevin.
(sighing) - You bitch.
She fired me and Ken watched it.
You fucker. You watched it.
- Kevin...
It was the drugs.
- Listen, my chinas.
All-all I need is enough money to cover airfare and hotel.
I have to go to the Sudan with Joao.
- You're not gonna smoke that.
It’s full of cat hair.
- I'm going to get myself sorted.
I need to get my shit together. Get...
I'm gonna stop. I'm gonna get sorted.
Did I tell you Allie threw me out?
- Mm-hmm. Aye, you told us.
- And then Joao's only leaving tomorrow, so there's still time.
- Joao?
- Sure. Why not?
(cat meowing)
- That's all I've got.
- Here, Kev. I'll give you more at the airport.
- Thanks.
- So they've gone?
- This morning, yeah.
- And you gave him money?
- He was really chuffed about it when we put him on the plane, yeah.
- Maybe it'll do him some good. (phone ringing)
- Hello...
Yeah, it's Greg...
Yeah...
That's what you saw?...
Okay...
Yeah, great...
Thanks...
Thanks.
- What are you doing? - An Inkatha attack in Boipatong.
There's armed men all over the township.
My stringer says some are white and wearing balaclavas.
Maybe this time I can actually catch the police doing something.
- No, you can't go in there on your own.
- You know Ken's in Bop, covering a boxing match.
It’s important I'm there and I'm going.
- Jesus, Greg.
This is bullshit.
No one goes into Boipatong at night.
(under her breath): You're behaving just like Kevin.
A fucking junkie.
Fuck.
I'm coming with you. - Robin...
- If it's safe enough for you...
- Would you light that, Robs? - Yeah, sure.
(knocking on door)
(local dialect)
- Can we have a seat?
- Hello, sir.
Thank you for letting us into your home.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
But it's important that I find out what happened here.
- They came in buses driven by white men.
And I heard the white men.
They gave them orders:
"Don't talk, just shoot."
I was here at my mother's house
and my son was with me.
And I left him with my mother
to go home for my wife.
I began to run and they ran after me.
And I heard the white men again,
"Catch him! Catch him!"
But I ran faster
and hid behind some bushes.
And all around me...
I heard them kill people.
Pow! Pow! Pow!
As you would kill insects, stomping on them with your feet.
When they were gone, I...
I ran to my house...
... found my wife.
She was lying out there...
in the dirt
and her intestines were hanging out.
She said to me, "Where is Isaac?
Where's our son?"
I said, "He's safe. He's with my mother."
She said, "Bring him to me."
So I left her.
I came back here to fetch my son.
When I found my son...
he was dead.
They had no mercy.
(crying)
(sighing)
- May I see your son?
- He's in the bedroom.
- Robs!
- Sorry.
-It's too dark.
Come on.
It’s in my frame.
(sobbing) (camera shutter clicking)
You're moving too much. Please. (sobbing)
(camera shutter clicking)
Can you lean a bit in?
- Just do it. Just do it. - I'm nearly done.
(camera shutter clicking) - I can't! I can't! I can't!
(sobbing)
(music)
(chanting)
Maybe you have to be like that to do what you do.
- Be like what?
- I think you have to forget that those are real people.
- There was nothing I could do for those people, any of them,
except take a photograph.
Nothing.
What do you want from me, Robin?
- Nothing.
- Okay. Fine. Then why don't you just leave me the fuck alone?
- Right.
(children talking nearby)
(camera shutter clicking)
- Sorry to hear about you and Robin.
- Can't say I blame her.
How was it? - The whole trip sucked.
Never got near the fucking rebels. Nothing but flies and skinny people.
(chuckling)
- Well, we might be back in business here.
After the massacre that night,
I don't know if this election's gonna happen.
- No shit! - Well, that's exciting for you guys.
- New York Times called. They're running a Sudan story.
Have you got anything from your trip?
- I got kak. Nothing.
There might be something on Kev's roll.
He's been raving about a pic he took just before we left.
- Yeah?
Anything?
-It's all shit.
Check this.
- Jesus.
Shit.
(mews report): The spectre of starvation is haunting Africa once again.
In southern Sudan, people caught in a relentless cycle of civil war...
(woman): The ongoing civil war in the Sudan was given a spotlight today
when a photograph taken by South-African photographer Kevin Carter
was published on the front page of the New York Times.
The picture, which shows a vulture stalking a little girl,
has caught the attention of the world... (knocking)
- All right.
- Kev. - Yeah, hold on...
- Wake up. Kevin!
Wake up, buddy. Wake up.
- Okay, Nancy, here he is.
- Yo. - Hey.
- Kev.
It’s Nancy Buirski, from the New York Times.
- Good. Nancy, it's Kevin.
I need an assignment.
I need some money.
- Kevin, your photograph of the child in Sudan
just won the Pulitzer Prize.
- They're going... they're going to throw me out.
- Kevin, did you hear what I said?
You just won the Pulitzer Prize.
- What?
- You just won the Pulitzer Prize.
Can you hear me? - Fuck.
Guys. - Ke. . . Kevin?
- Nancy. Tell them...
Tell them what you just told me.
I won a Pulitzer.
- Kevin?
- I knew that when...
when I was taking it,
there was something special, yeah.
- Do you have a name for the picture?
- I don't name my pictures,
but my friends, they, uh, they named it
The Budgie Picture.
(laughter)
- Kevin, many of our readers
have asked about the fate of the young girl.
- The fate?
- What happened to the little girl, Kevin?
- I... I don't know exactly...
She... - Did you chase the vulture away, Kevin?
- Yeah, the vulture, yeah...
After... After I got the, uh, picture... - But did you physically help her?
- The girl? - Yeah.
- Not physically. - Kevin, you didn't pick her up?
- That's not his job.
- Since when are journalists exempt from helping people?
- I'm not saying I'm exempt from helping people.
I think my picture did more than that. - Why not just make sure she was safe?
- Kevin, no one is saying you shouldn't have taken the photo.
- Did you just leave her in the desert to die, Kevin?
- And you see no problem with the choice you made?
- I don't see a problem with the choice.
I went there as a photographer. I took a great photograph.
- Do you really think you did the right thing?
- You could've done something further. - What about saving this little girl?
- You don't know what happened? - But why not just pick up the child?
- We need to go.
(intense music)
- Why didn't you just tell them the truth?
- I told them the truth.
- No, you change the story every time.
- Leave it alone.
-It's an amazing fucking picture.
Okay.
- Greg.
They're right, you know.
- Who?
- All of them.
All of the people that say that it's our job
to sit there and watch people die.
They're right.
- That's not me.
- Yes, it is.
-It's in your head, Kev, not mine.
- I'm not alone.
(news report): The South African government and the African National Congress
have agreed to set a date for South Africa's first non-racial election.
Today's announcement did little, however, to stop the violence
which continues to threaten South Africa's townships.
In an attempt to control the violence,
the two parties also unveiled a new peacekeeping force.
The newly formed National Peacekeeping Force,
deployed for the first time in the townships,
clearly unable to cope with the high level of violence.
They spent most of the day hiding under their vehicles.
One man was shot in the leg by his own comrades.
- So how was New York, Jim?
- Yeah, it was good, man. Yeah. - When did you get in?
- Yesterday.
So, what do you guys do when this is all over?
- Well, if this war actually ends, we're really screwed.
- I can't go back to shooting circumcisions. - What, not enough blood?
(laughter)
No, I'm done with newspapers.
It’s magazine features for me now.
- I'm getting an appetizer.
You guys want a round?
- Mm. - Sure.
Thanks Jim.
- Times sends him all over the world.
Northern Ireland, Bosnia. All the shitholes.
That's what I want to do.
- Yeah? - Yeah.
-It's a tough gig, eh?
Here you go, Joao.
- Okay. - Thanks.
- So I was thinking of going to this big ANC rally tomorrow.
How about you guys?
- Yeah. Their cause has been cooking for the last couple of days.
- Okay, well let's do it. Can I tag along?
- Of course. - Jimmy, you don't have to ask.
- Okay. - Cheers.
- Thanks, guys. - Yeah. Cheers.
- So Kevin.
What do you think makes a photograph great?
- Um...
- Kevin?
(clears throat) - I uh...
I don't know, really.
You take the picture and you see what you have later.
But, uh... But maybe what makes a great picture
is one that asks a question, you know?
It’s not just a spectacle, it's more than that.
And I think...
I think mine was like that and Greg's too.
You go out and you see bad things,
evil things
and you want to do something about it, so what you do
is you take the picture that shows it.
- Jeez. Jeez, man. - Fuck.
(Kevin): But not everybody is gonna like what they see.
You have to understand that they might want to shoot the messenger.
- Now I'm sure you're aware of all the controversy that surrounds
the photograph of the vulture and the child
and a lot of people are asking a lot of questions.
This may be difficult for you to answer, but do you know what happened to that child?
Kevin?
- What are they running from? - I don't know.
(people shouting)
(gunfire)
- Fuck! Fuck! - Fuck!
(tires screeching)
- Shit! - Fuck!
- Greg, pass me the phone.
(gunfire)
(dialing)
- Robin, it's Ken...
Yeah, we're in Thokoza.
There's lots of guns here. It’s gonna get fucking hectic down here.
A bunch of peacekeepers that don't know what the fuck they're doing.
Listen, we're going in.
Make sure they use the fucking pictures.
- Let's go. Let's go.
- What the fuck's going on? - Who cares, it's bang bang.
(gunfire)
(screaming, shouting) (camera shutter clicking)
(indistinct screaming)
(camera shutters clicking)
(gunfire)
- Fuck, this oke's been shot across the road there.
(camera shutters clicking)
(local dialect)
(gunfire)
(camera shutters clicking)
(gunfire)
- Shit! Look out, Ken! Ken! Ken! Ken!
(gunfire)
(camera shutter clicking) (gunfire)
- Get the fucking shot.
- Come on. Take it like a man. You're a puss.
Fucking pussy.
- Fuck you! - Fuck you, man.
You get the shot. - Puss.
- Move, move. I'll get it.
(gunfire)
(camera shutter clicking)
Sheesh! Woo!
- Yeah. Told you. (gunfire)
(chuckling)
(speaking in local dialect) (whistling)
(gunfire stopping)
(camera shutters clicking)
- What's going on? - Welcome boys.
- Who's thirsty?
- What? - What?
- Who wants a Coke? - What?
- No, man.
- No, I'm going to go to that spot over there.
- Okay, well if you're gonna go, go.
- Ready? - Don't get shot, dude.
- Oh! (camera shutters clicking)
(shouting) - Idiot.
- Woo! - Yeah!
- Hello!
Hello, anybody here?! Hello? (knocking)
Ah... Two Cokes, my bru.
- Two...
Two rand.
(people shouting)
- Shit.
Greg!
Run!
(gunfire)
- Ah! Fuck! - Run!
(laughter)
Thanks.
(laughter, gunfire)
- We're gonna take out this nest of snipers, okay?
We're going to move down along this wall.
As soon as you get around the corner, you start firing.
All right?
- I say when they go, we go with the same wave.
You got it, Joao? - Yeah, yeah.
- Are we gonna fucking do this thing? (soldiers): Yes.
- Okay. You guys can come in after us.
Okay, we're gonna get covering fire from the Mamba. Bring in the Mamba!
-It's starting to heat up. - Alright, get ready! Move down!
(camera shutters clicking) Go! Go! Go! Go!
Get in there, you fucking bastard!
Go, you piece of shit! Get in there!
Go! Go! Go!
Go! Bloody legged! Get off your ass!
(gunfire)
- Ugh!
I'm hit! I'm hit!
- Hold your fire. (groaning)
Hold your fire! - Cease fire!
- Get your hands off those weapons!
- Fuck!
Shit!
- We've got another man down.
- Jesus! Ken's hit! Ken's been hit! - Hold your fucking fire!
- Keep still. Keep still. - Ken's been hit.
- I'm okay. Help Ken.
(camera shutter clicking)
(ominous music)
(indistinct scream)
(gunfire)
(tires screeching)
- Where? Where? - In there.
- Ken!
Ken!
- Joao.... - Sam...
- Is he?
- Sam...
Sam...
Ken's dead.
(chuckling) - Hi, Robs.
- Hello.
- Where's Ken?
Is he all right?
- No.
(crying)
(speaks indistinctly)
(birds chirping)
(no sound)
(whispering): I'll be back.
Hey.
- Hi.
I just want them to all leave.
- Yeah, I know.
(news report): The explosion of violence in this township
is an ominous sign for South Africa
at the beginning of a week
of planned protests and demonstrations by Inkatha.
- I would like to express
my deepest sympathy
to the family of Ken Oosterbroek.
- To Ken Oosterbroek! (all): Yeah!
(TV news report continues in the background)
- Sorry. - You fucker.
- Sorry, man. - You spilled my fucking drink.
- I said I was sorry, man.
- Fucking asshole.
- Watch your mouth, motherfucker. - Think you can take me on?
I didn't tell you, but I got an offer from AP a few days ago.
They want to send me to Afghanistan.
I'll be leaving next month.
It’s what I've always wanted.
Viv?
- Mm-hmm?
- Will you marry me?
- Yup.
- Still non-stop jol, is it? (chuckling)
How you doing?
- Better. Really better, yeah.
I've been thinking about us.
I think I lost the plot for a while.
I'm sorry.
- I think it's an occupational hazard.
(crowd cheering)
(news report): And minutes into Wednesday April the 27 1994,
the flag of freedom and equality for all races
flew over South Africa.
The enthusiasm for voting among blacks of all ages and conditions
caught the mainly white organizers unprepared.
Millions more ballot papers had to be produced
and in six regions, a fourth day allowed for voting.
Inkatha's late entry into the election
meant its candidates had to be added to ballot papers.
Despite the problems,
the historic poll is expected to be declared free and fair.
- My name is Kevin Carter.
Without phone, money for rent,
Money for debts, money...
I'm haunted by the vivid memories of killings and corpses
and anger and pain...
Of killer executioners. . .
Of trigger-happy madmen, often police.
I have gone to join Ken, if I'm that lucky.
Long have we awaited
But many times have we seen
In the eyes of the neighbours
A feeling that leads Not a guess
Who's been doing what, who and went for less
And who's been left out there with dust on his dead feet
Shot down in the city
Look right at the sunset
Look left and pour the tea
Look on in amazement
Look fast and mass crazy here
Nowhere else in the world can you see
so many monsters creep out so efficiently
and leave you wondering what happened to all the sacred things
that got shot down in the city
New money new money
And old ways get away
But here in my cradle
I lie incapable
I'm a white boy who looked at his life gathered his hands
and saw it was all due to the sweat of some other man
That one who got shot down in the city
Shot down
One day we'll fight
That misty mild day
And we can live our lives
In peace
But don't forget your brothers and your sisters
Who got shot down in the street
Shot down in the street
Deep in the past
We can trigger to the barrel blast
On the avenue
Where I would crash into you
What's done is done and life is a gun
Life is a gun on the run
Oh my dear isn't life a gun
A story shotgun that came undone
It came undone
The well worn path
Was never something I would walk
So lay it down
Lay these guns in the ground
What's done is done and life is a gun
Life is a gun on the run
Oh my dear isn't life a gun
A story shotgun that came undone
We came undone
Blu-ray subtitling: CNST, Montreal
We came undone