I was recently filling out an application for the Sheffield Doc/Fest, which reminded me of a film I saw quite a while ago that was shown there last year. It is a film that records the human loss and the personal stories from those who were affected by the bombings in London on the 7th July 2005. 52 people were killed and over 700 were injured. I can't remember where I first saw this film, it might have been on the BBC, but I decided to watch it again (if only to procrastinate for a bit).
First off, with a subject matter so mournful and tragic, the film doesn't open in the way you'd expect. The first clips of testimony are about London: the Olympics, their dreams of London, their lives in London. These are both positive and negative, and represent the busy and individual lives that they all led. Each person has a story to tell about why they were on those trains that day. Martine describes how she'd been up celebrating the win of the bid the night before, and had five extra minutes in bed. Kathy went to work half an hour earlier because of a big deadline at work.
The film is comprised of very careful and thoughtful interviews, and edited so it takes the individual stories and produces a common experience amongst strangers. There was no melodrama, there wasn't a fussy style that served to draw your attention away and there was no recon. It was really all about the words.
There were interviews with people who had survived, and there were interviews with the families of those who died. Those of the families were situated in their homes, and served to draw attention to the fact that there was a person missing. One stood out for me. A very polite and well-spoken mother sent Mr Blair numerous letters, determined to hear back an acknowledgment of culpability for the death of her daughter. In some of the later letters, she enclosed a stamped envelope and a pen, because she "thought he might need them". She seemed exhausted and her polite hate for the Prime Minister only served to show how much she was grieving for her daughter.
The film also examines the emergency services' role on the day, and quite strongly notes the time it took for them to get into the tunnels. The injured were waiting 40 minutes for help. It becomes clear that the tube workers had no clue what happened just before 9am, suggesting a possible power surge or something similar, portrayed by the recordings of the calls made on the network. It was only when the walking wounded began emerging from the tunnels that it became clear the severity of the situation - but still, no mention of a terrorist attack.
The focus shifts from the tube to the number 30 bus. One father was on the phone to his daughter, trying to get her to work on time as the tubes had ground to a halt. He told her to get on to the bus a stop early. 10 minutes later, while still on the phone, he heard an explosion and the phone went dead. He clearly blames himself, which is heartbreaking.
The most haunting phrase comes from a tube worker who went into the tunnels to help the wounded. He found a man in a hole in the ground, still alive, and went to pull him out. He realised that his torso had been clean separated from his lower half. On the man's death a few minutes later, he "closed his eyelids for him, just because it felt... incongruous to me to still be looking at a world he was no longer part off". Tissues please.
The overwhelming sense I got from watching this film was, weirdly, a sense of normality. I sensed an individual normality destroyed in one moment, and replaced with a common tragedy. It is a fitting tribute to those whose lives were changed on that day, and to those who lost them.
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