Faces You Forget: Nights Out in Saigon is an evocative documentary released by Vietnam based production company Irregular Film about the infamous party street Bui Vien and the divide between the affluent tourists who patronize the street and the locals who make their living. I recently spoke with one of the film’s directors William Snyder about the cultural divide on the street and his journey as a filmmaker.
How did you get involved with filmmaking?
I studied filmmaking at the University of Texas after being deeply inspired by Stanley Kubrick’s work. My pursuit of film dried up somewhat after graduating but when I moved to Vietnam I felt the drive to pick the camera back up.
What is your relationship with the country of Vietnam? What inspired you to go there?
During college I had developed a strong compulsion to see more of the world, so I found a job teaching English in Vietnam. I had considered lots of different countries but Vietnam had a reputation for being an exciting, vibrant place to live and that has absolutely been the case. While Vietnam like any country has its frustrations, I love living here and currently have no plans to leave.
How did you first hear about Bui Ven?
When I first came to Saigon, my guesthouse was about a half-block from Bui Vien, and the acquaintance who picked me up to the airport took me straight there to have drinks. It was quite an introduction to the country and I think many travelers in Vietnam have a similar experience when they arrive.
What were some of your experiences visiting the street prior to filming the documentary?
More nights than I’d like to admit of drinking and carousing there! I’ve seen foreigners rolling in the street fighting and flagrant public use of every drug you can imagine. But the more time I spent on Bui Vien, the less I was dazzled by the cheap beer and neon lights, and the more my attention was drawn towards the aspects of the street it’s easy to slide your eyes over: the kids begging from drunken travelers at 3am, the cripples wandering forlornly up and down the street all night every night.
There seems to be a disconnect between the mostly white tourists and the people making a living on the street that your film touches upon, were there any examples that you can remember of the two cultures crossing the invisible barrier and reaching an understanding?
The way I’ve often seen that barrier crossed is through interactions with the kids working there. While older street touts are focused on making money and hustling, the young kids are typically only there because they’re obliged to be, and foreigners are able to bring a little joy into their nights through simply taking the time to play around with them instead of ignoring them or merely buying what they’re selling. Linguistic and cultural barriers don’t matter a bit when it comes to joking around with a child.
One of the most powerful images from the documentary involves a man violently attacking a woman with a chair. Were these kinds of acts of violence commonplace and did you ever feel the urge to intervene while you were filming?
This is sadly common in Vietnam. I have a vivid memory of riding a motorbike taxi back from a party in the early hours of the morning, when we passed by a couple at the side of a bridge. The man had his hand around the woman’s neck and had her violently pinned against the railing, hitting her. Shocked, I tapped the driver’s shoulder and asked him to stop but he made the Vietnamese hand gesture of indifference and drove on, which reflects the attitude here about these matters – don’t get involved.
Another striking image from the documentary is the child fire eaters who seem to fill the streets, where do they pick up on a dangerous act like that? Is this something that is taught to them elsewhere or do they attempt to teach it to themselves because it’s relatively easy money compared to the alternatives?
My understanding is that the firebreathing kids tend to tutor each other – we interviewed a gum-selling kid for the film who we later saw hanging out in the street with some of the firebreathers, then a few months later he had switched to firebreathing full-time. He’s gained a few burns and scars since he switched. The motivation is indeed money as you say – it has a higher profit margin than selling gum despite the ill effects.
Were there any scenes from the film that you shot but ultimately had to cut from the film that you wish you could have left in?
We were on Bui Vien for April 30th, Vietnam’s Reunification Day, and captured the celebratory fireworks from there. We wanted to use that footage somewhere in the film but we just couldn’t find room for it. We also interviewed an absurdly self-pitying cyclo driver but his material, while interesting, ended up a bit irrelevant to our focus.
What were your biggest influences in making this documentary, were there any particular documentaries that you drew strong influence from?
We took influence from Vice’s work in the sense of doing things in a somewhat gritty, guerrilla style, though we left out the hipster hosts and the flashiness. One of my biggest personal influences is Werner Herzog – his documentaries and his search for the “ecstatic truth” are a huge inspiration, though I’ll have to continuing refining my German accent to match his narration skills!
Finally, can you tell us about what you have lined up next?
We have a big list of projects ideas waiting to be done, but my co-director Sean Lambe and I are currently on pre-production on a short doc about a Vietnamese orphanage in Saigon and the conditions/work that goes on there. Whatever the subject, our biggest driving focus is exploring the amazing and beautiful people that make up Vietnam.
You can check out the documentary and other related projects at the Irregular Film’s YouTube Channel and be sure to like and check out their Facebook page for more information