SCREEN

It starts by telling the story of Iraq from three non-American points of view. The first section, set in a Sunni neighborhood, introduces 11-year-old Mohammed Haithem, who works as an auto mechanic's assistant and sporadically goes to school. His wistful narration blatantly ignores what we actually see onscreen; Mohammed praises his boss for his compassion, but the boss treats the boy with sadistic haranguing. Sometimes Longley allows us to overhear the boss' conversations with a few locals ("Why don't they just take the oil and leave?" one says of the American occupiers).

The second segment documents a Shiite cleric, Sheik Aws al-Khafaji, a member of an active political organization. Longley's camera soon moves from this single subject to scenes of masses in motion at a rally. Finally, the film ends with a comparatively idyllic look at a family of Kurdish farmers.

Longley's real achievement lies in his deft melding of artistry and reporting, happily tossing aside such commonplace tools as talking heads, clips and narration. He understands that, coming from an outsider, no amount of time or footage can properly represent the real Iraqi experience; so he embraces these shortcomings and subverts them. He looks at his subjects through a poetic prism, paying close attention to rhythms, juxtapositions and transitions, rather than factoids. (The title refers both to his method and to one man's statement that the three Iraqi regions depicted herein may become divided into separate countries.)

Although the film doesn't make any earth-shattering discoveries about war profiteering or WMDs, it at least puts a unique face on an "enemy" that few Americans have considered.