Documentarian Poh Si Teng looks for optimism in Palestine

In a roundabout, incongruous way, journalist and documentarian Poh Si Teng has given audiences reasons for optimism in her new film, American Doctor. Here, she chronicles a trio of physicians, Thaer Ahmad, Feroze Sidhwa, and Mark Perlmutter, endeavoring to stem the tide of fatalities onsite at the Nasser Medical Complex in Khan Younis, Palestine, as well as to rally support for the cessation of hostilities in Gaza here at home in the United States. What the documentary shows onscreen is often grim, as the aftermath of a missile strike tends not to be a pretty sight; at the same time, the unity Teng sees among her subjects, each from different backgrounds and faiths—Jewish, Palestinian, Zoroastrian—as well as among the secondary figures involved in their work provides a beacon of light in utter darkness.

Make no mistake that American Doctor is a distressing watch. Likewise, don’t mistake that experiential quality as a sign of nihilism. For Teng, who graciously offered her time for an interview with me weeks after the film’s theatrical release last month, there’s optimism to be found in the work here, and inspiration, too. Helpless as we may feel, there are ways to participate in efforts to alleviate Gaza’s plight.

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

Andy Crump: American Doctor paints this portrait of an ecosystem that contains the war in Gaza, actors in the war—the Israeli government and the victims of their military attacks—outsiders intervening in the suffering inflicted by the conflict, and of course the media. How do you see yourself and documentary filmmaking fitting into that ecosystem?
Poh Si Teng: I see myself as somebody who has been very privileged, having worn many different hats in the journalism and documentary ecosystem, from being a camera person for the Associated Press, working at different newspapers across the United States like the New York Times, having worked in India, and being a documentary commissioner for Al Jazeera, being a grants fundraiser, being a studio executive. There's great privilege in the experience and understanding of those different worlds. For a long time, I thought they were disparate worlds that weren't connected. They’re just interesting experiences in my portfolio of life. But when it came to this film, I could tap into these different worlds at any time, and that came together, I hope, in a cohesive way.

Ultimately, the film is my own journey and exploration of the different themes you mentioned, whether it's the Israeli military and government, U.S. involvement and responsibility for the genocide, the media's role in all of this, and three good men trying to do something very hard in spite of everything else, and of course the cinema vérité filmmaking. Some would say that you're the fly on the wall, but I don't think that's true at all. You're the fly in the ointment. I'm watching Mark, and Thaer, and Feroze, they're watching me, and we're learning together as we go. I know it comes out in so many scenes, especially with Mark, who engaged with me a lot when the cameras were rolling. 

AC: The “fly on the wall” piece is interesting, because when you're doing this kind of filmmaking, you're there. You can't zip out of it. What went through your mind during production? Being there with a camera capturing all of this, being with (the doctors ) even when they're just on Zoom calls, hearing people argue about the conflict. You're putting yourself in a position where you can't just get away.
PST: I will say this: I was never in Gaza. Mark, the eternal optimist, told me, "I'm going to train you as a scrub tech and take you in." I said, “Mark, that's never going to happen. If anybody does a cursory search of my name, they're going to find all this past work experience, they're never going to let me in.” So, credit to our Gazan friends, Ibrahim Al-Otla, the cinematographer, and (producer) Mohammed Sawwaf. To your question, when you're directing a film that's so immersive, it's all in or nothing. You have to be, as much as one can, mentally and emotionally prepared. I was, but at the same time, I wasn't. There were many times in the film where I broke, and at the same time was held together.

When the genocide started, having worked at Al Jazeera, knowing colleagues who were targeted and executed by the Israeli military, that broke me and gave me so much despair and rage. Then I found Mark, Thaer, and Feroze, and I went on this journey with them, and not to sound cheesy, but they saved me. They gave me this opportunity to transform all the pain and rage into something useful, and I hope the film is going to be useful for people watching, not just now, but in the years to come.

But yeah, I wasn't prepared. I don't think one can ever be prepared for something like this. It's not a film where you can dip your toe in and then say, "Oh, I'm checked out." It's not even like dipping your toe in the pool. You're jumping in the deep end without knowing how to swim, and there are sharks in the water. All that said, I was never alone. I had the doctors; I had my producers, Kirstine Barfod, Reem Haddad; I had a team that spanned eight different countries. How incredible is that? The comfort of doing things together is something I will carry with me for all time.

AC: That’s profound, and I think that's the message of the movie, too; you’re not alone. I don't know if that was the intended motif, but it feels worth taking away. Was that part of the thesis, so to speak, or something that naturally germinated?
PST: It was one of those things where you focus on the work, the team, the doctors, and what they're doing. With Thaer, from the first day that I filmed with him, what was evident as an observer was how much he was loved and how much his community carried him. There’s so much to be learned from that. His people were being genocided, and yet he was being embraced and lifted, and they were helping him with what he was doing in regards to talking about his own people in Gaza and in the West Bank, juxtaposed with Mark, who was alone by himself, just with his partner, and that felt so lonely.

When you make a vérité film, you have to carry (the subjects’) emotions. You can't put your emotions on them. There were many moments where I wanted to say, "Hey, guys, maybe you should do it this way," but I told myself, "I'm going to let the guys do their thing. I'm with them emotionally. I'm going to let the tape play and let them grow from it." As somebody observing so closely and intimately, I've grown and changed as well. 

If you get a chance, watch it with an audience. That has been, in the past few weeks, so gratifying. When you watch (the film) with an audience, and if it's a diverse audience, people from different walks of life, generations, backgrounds, and whatever reason they came in for, whichever participant they came in for, they leave wanting to do something, and now they're talking to each other. That has been totally unexpected for me, and it's surreal.

AC: That goes to Roger Ebert's famous quote about how the movies are a machine that generates empathy. The response you get from an audience is what most filmmakers crave. I wonder what your relationship is to the negative reception Mark, Thaer, and Feroze get from speaking out. People get death threats or are harassed for talking about Gaza. What’s your experience been with such responses?
PST: People respond in all sorts of ways, but it's been overwhelmingly positive. When we were invited to the largest and oldest Jewish film festival, the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival, which is run by the Jewish Film Institute, we weren't sure what to expect. Thaer and I went, and it was incredible. Mark wasn't there because he had to work, but we had this long standing ovation, and folks wouldn't let us leave the theater. They were craving conversation, and a way to understand and process things. I've also encountered folks who’ve been taught for their entire lives a certain path and a certain narrative, and you know what? As a director, as a filmmaker, the film is out there, and we welcome all. Everybody has their own path to salvation, whatever that may be. 

We are not our thoughts; we are our actions. If we focus on doing the work, we won't be lost because there's so much work that needs to get done. That has helped me. I was lost, and I wasn't sure how to navigate, either. I live in New York. I work in so many different communities, and I have friends from various backgrounds, and I lost my way to be able to navigate emotionally, even intellectually. How do I say what needs to be said and be effective at the same time? I didn't find my way forward until I decided to do the work and make the film. Then I found my way.