We Were Here
Co-directed and edited by Bill Weber
Produced and directed by David Weissman
THE OPENING PORTION of We Were Here, David Weissman and Bill Weber’s new documentary about the early years of AIDS in San Francisco, is one of surprising humor, even celebration. Using on-screen recollections of the film’s interview subjects interspersed with archival photography and snippets of the era’s popular music, the film reminds us of the creative energy and sexual exuberance that thrived in San Francisco, particularly in the Castro neighborhood, in the mid-to-late 1970’s. And this upbeat opening is reprised in the film’s wonderfully affirmative conclusion. Between these end points, however, is a sad and sobering look at the ruthlessness with which AIDS ravaged the city’s gay community.
The two directors last teamed up for The Cockettes, their 2002 documentary about the San Francisco drag-queen-hippie theatre troupe of the late 60’s and early 70’s. Their current subject seems far removed from that film, and We Were Here certainly wrestles unflinchingly with a dark chapter of gay history. But its dominant themes are hope, survival, and renewal.
The first word of the film’s title is the most important, because this is not history in the strict sense of the word but a chronicle of a time and place as told by some of those who lived through it. Weissman and Weber let their subjects do all the talking. And it’s not hyperbole to say that each person interviewed in the film—Ed Wolf, Paul Boneberg, Daniel Goldstein, Guy Clark, and Eileen Glutzer—is uniquely heroic. Most disavow that label in the course of their interview, but the label fits nonetheless. In his introductory comments and Q&A sessions at recent screenings of We Were Here at San Francisco’s Castro Theater, Weissman admitted that he wondered if people were ready for a feature-length AIDS documentary. He pushed forward with the project in part so as to commemorate the thirty-year milestone of the epidemic. His doubts about finding an audience have been allayed by the full houses at the recent San Francisco screenings and by the overall enthusiastic response to the movie. The film’s power derives from the collective voice of its interview subjects. There’s the sensitive, soft-spoken Ed Wolf, who was a counselor to dying AIDS patients and their families. Paul Boneberg, one of the earliest AIDS activists, stridently spoke out against the government’s lackluster response to the crisis. Daniel Goldstein, who, like many others, lost multiple partners to the epidemic, was an important force in organizing the artistic community’s response. Guy Clark, a longtime Castro flower vendor, presents an unforgettable picture of the Castro neighborhood’s emotional journey through the epidemic. Eileen Glutzer, a nurse, was one of the brave few who first attended to AIDS patients when many healthcare professionals were afraid to do so. These stories form a living narrative of how the community and the city government came together to provide a blueprint for dealing with AIDS, an approach that came to be known worldwide as “The San Francisco Model.” Inevitably, the film is full of jarring, painful images and emotionally wrenching moments, as when Glutzer describes how she helped harvest eyes from recently deceased AIDS patients for use in clinical research. Wolf speaks movingly about the first sign (literally) of AIDS that he saw: a homemade warning notice, posted in front of a Castro pharmacy, that included one young man’s photos of his body covered with K.S. lesions. Goldstein’s stories of grief and loss are particularly compelling, especially when his decades-old grief surfaces again suddenly and viscerally on camera. Marsha Kahm’s photography and Lauretta Molitor’s sound work bring these interviews alive with startling immediacy: one feels the presence of each subject and each nuance of their shifting emotions. Holcombe Waller and Doug Hilsinger’s music, along with the generous use of archival photography, complete the complex narrative of this film’s mood. One standout in cinematography: at one point the camera pans across an array of black-and-white portraits from a late 80’s edition of the Bay Area Reporter that shows all of the San Franciscans lost to AIDS thus far. As the camera slowly moves out, each face becomes smaller, lost in the emerging multitude. If there’s one shortcoming of the film, it’s that it can’t include even more of the personal stories. Having screened at the Sundance and the Berlin film festivals, and having just completed its initial San Francisco run, the directors hope to show We Were Here at future festivals and are working on broader distribution.
