“Tattooed Under Fire” finds a larger story in a small setting

Friday was the official release date for Nancy Schiesari’s documentary Tattooed Under Fire, a project that began modestly, found a small entry point for telling a much broader story, and has consequently found a level of success that has been throughly pleasing.

Schiesari is not a novice; she’s a professor in the University of Texas’s Documentary Center. Her previous full-length documentary was Hansel Mieth: Vagabond Photographer, which aired on PBS Independent Lens, the Australian Broadcast Corporation, and TVOntario. She also directed History Man, a half-hour profile on Martin Scorsese that aired on BBC 4 in 2003.

That all makes the story worthwhile; rather than pursuing her next project as some do, with geometrically expanding budgets and crews, she went to work as she has in the past, close to the subjects and minimally complicated. She says,

I knew the owner of a tattoo shop in Killeen, Texas. We had known each other socially but I hadn’t seen her in four years, and she told me about these soldiers coming into the tattoo parlor getting tattoos of what they were calling “meat tags,” right on their torsos, with all the identification from their dog tags.

It was in case they got blown up. I said, “Oh my God, I can’t believe people would do that. My friend said, “You wouldn’t believe the stories that come out while they’re getting tattooed.” I told her someone should be documenting that, and she said, “Come on up…”

Schiesari has been a director of photography on more than 30 projects. At the Documentary Center at UT in Austin, she is a co-director of what has become a nexus for documentary film in Austin and beyond. Killeen is an hour up Interstate 35, and a world away, from Austin. Killeen sits surrounded by the 160,000-acre Fort Hood, right down Tank Destroyer Boulevard from the complement of stores, bars and vendors that serve the soldiers that make it the largest military installation in the world – the fort is home to more than 50,000 soldiers, many of whom are deployed. For Schiesari, it was local enough to have stories worth exploring.

The first soldier I met was Consuela. I found out how easy it was to talk to someone when they’re getting tattooed – they talk to keep their mind off the pain. It wasn’t too difficult to approach soldiers and talk to them.

Usually, I’d tell them I was doing the documentary about this particular tattoo parloer and these tattoo artists, and the soldiers were pleased with this, because they had chosen these people because of the quality of their work. I told them I also wanted to hear what soldiers are going through either before they go or when they return from Iraq. Every single one of them, except for one, out of 50, said yes. So there was never a problem with putting the camera there, and putting a lavalier on someone, and starting a conversation.

I’d go down to Killeen on weekends, and sometimes spend a whole week there. My two kids are grown, so I had time on my hands.

Schiesari worked with cinematographer Librado Lozano, with whom she had collaborated on a previous documentary.

He came with me the first few times, and when he couldn’t come I’d bring a student from school. Those were the early days. The project went on for about three years. I usually brought someone with me, and at times I had to go alone and film. It’s not impossible with digital technology and a small camera and a lavalier microphone.

Schiesari shot completely in Mini-DV. At the beginning she used Sony PD-170s and a PD-150s. Towards the end, she used a Panasonic DVX100 that ran 24 frames per second. She didn’t shoot on HD, “unfortunately,” she says.

The newer footage looked a lot better. In fact we had to have all the footage we shot at 30 frames per second converted to 24 frames per second, then reconverted to 29.97 for television. That was costly, to convert both into same same frame rate.

I chose to shoot on DV because there were a lot of cameras around, and very easy to use. 24p actually has more of a film look. It even looks better than the first HD cameras that were out at the time. The 24p DV cameras had a nice film feel to it.

The film is 56 minutes long, a bit unusual in that so many filmmakers see the choice as being between under 40 minutes or over 75. But Schiesari says she had specific goals for the project.

From early on I realized this had to be for TV. We got a Links grant between the local PBS station and the ITVS in San Francisco. The local PBS station throws in in-kind support and promotion, and ITVS matches that. They only choose about eight in the whole country.

The film premiered at The Big Sky Documentary Film Festival, then went to AFI in Dallas – “it’s a wonderful film festival and they take great care of you,” she says. The film also played in the new Zealand Human Rights Film Festival and in Estonia. Schiesari says the film is going to play in some other festivals this year because she’s re-cut it, “and we’re thinking probably more festivals will pick it up.”

To search for local broadcasts of Tattooed Under Fire, go to the ITVS.org and enter your zip code for information on the time and date it will air.