Filmmaker Brian Oakes refused to leave the image alone, the one showing his boyhood friend kneeling in an orange jumpsuit, a menacing figure in black from head to toe standing beside him.
Oakes knew there was so much more to say about James Foley, the photojournalist killed in Syria two years ago. Like his adventurous spirit, unmatched and unrelenting. And his independent nature, allowing him to cross all social boundaries and ignore cliques through the Wolfeboro school system. And his nonchalance and obliviousness to consequences that made daredevils like Oakes seem cautious, and made Foley so cool.
That’s why Oakes directed an HBO documentary, Jim: the James Foley Story, which aired last month and remains available in the network’s on-demand archives. Oakes wants you to know Jim, who he was, what he stood for, how the other hostages in Syria, later freed, viewed him.
That provides the depth needed to understand who this extraordinary man was.
“That image of Jim became the image that was associated with a specific thing other than who Jim was,” Oakes, who lives in Brooklyn, told me by phone. “Politicians were using it for political agendas. That made me very uncomfortable. If you know the person better than the image, it takes on a different meaning, especially with Jim, who had this amazing life of humanity and did a lot of things for people. I wanted to change the conversation.”
For his effort, Oakes will be honored with the Jonathan Daniels Award at the Monadnock International Film Festival on April 16 in Keene.
If you go, you’ll see his film. You’ll hear from Foley’s parents, three brothers and sister, all of whom fight their emotions as they painted a picture of a family member whose wings were far too bright to keep him grounded for any length of time.
You’ll hear from a friend whose admiration will mix with frustration and confusion as to why Foley, captured by the Libyan government in 2011 and held for 44 days, chose to return to conflict journalism in Syria, which, he knew, was far more dangerous than Libya.
You’ll hear from his fellow journalists, courageous lions on the battlefield, who oftentimes declined to move into particularly violent areas of the frontline, while Foley just kept going.
Foley, they said, was the reporter responsible for raising money so a Syrian hospital could afford an ambulance.
They also explain the mind set of the conflict journalist, with one reporter describing the juxtaposition of filming dying children over there, with seeing Tupperware in a store over here.
“You get so engrossed with this world,” Oakes said he learned from this experience. “It becomes reality, and you get pulled back into it.”
Most powerful and revealing, though, are the words from Foley’s fellow hostages, whose governments agreed to negotiate their release after Foley was killed.
Foley was captured on Thanksgiving in 2012 and held until his internet-shown execution, the one in which he’s kneeling beside a member of ISIS, in August of 2014. During that time, he emerged as a selfless leader, a liaison between the guards and his fellow prisoners, a comforting voice after he and others had been beaten.
“It wasn’t something that surprised me,” Oakes said. “The last thing I want to do is make Jim out to be a saint. He had flaws, and he was always for the underdog and he had real compassion for others. It was really nice to know he could still be that person under those circumstances. That’s ultimately what I think about with Jim.”
Oakes, 41, lives in New York City with his wife and two young children.
He’s got a degree in architecture from Syracuse University, and his field is design animation and motion graphics.
This documentary is an early entry into his directing career, and Oakes slammed a home run. He was perfect for this project, something that was not lost on Foley’s grieving family.
After all, Foley and Oakes met in 1981, when they were first graders at Carpenter Elementary School in Wolfeboro, right there on Main Street. They played soccer together, swam together, skied together, grew up together.
They drank beer, snuck into Abenaki Ski Area for midnight tubing, traveled on the Foley family boat and jumped off island cliffs into Lake Winnipesaukee.
Guess who jumped off the tallest cliffs.
Oakes said Foley “had the physical courage that was beyond everyone.”
And Oakes had the background and skill to convince the Foley family that he was the right man for this job.
“There was hesitation, of course,” Oakes said. “None of us have anything to compare this to, but at the same time I explained to them why I wanted to do it, that I knew someone else would probably do the story, someone who didn’t know him, and I felt a responsibility that maybe I could. I was willing to put that onto my shoulders.”
Fourteen months later, Oakes had his finished product. During that time, the interviews he secured told everything you needed to know about Foley.
At home, Foley could fall asleep anywhere, a reflection of the inner calm he possessed. Material things were secondary to him.
Covering war appealed to him. Foley snapped the pictures and wrote the text. His mother, Diane Foley, referring to Jim’s decision to work in Syria after he’d been released from Libya, said, “I think I made it too easy for Jim.”
The words reflected a mother’s horrific balancing act, juggling her respect and admiration for her son’s passion with her own fear that he was heading into extreme danger.
Later in the documentary, Diane says, “He was so restless here at home. He didn’t want to be here at home.”
Added his sister, Katie Foley, James had an “itch he couldn’t scratch when he was domesticated.”
Elsewhere, with Diane’s help, Oakes interviewed people held hostage with Foley, traveling to Paris and Barcelona to meet them. They knew Oakes was an old friend of Foley’s. They appreciated the time he took with each of them. This was not like the interviews they had done before, with someone who had no first-hand knowledge about the man, and who sought a snapshot lacking texture and context.
“I let them talk,” Oakes said. “I did not have an agenda. I had breakfast with them. We got to know each other. They had talked to media with specific things they wanted from them. I just wanted to talk about Jim.”
So did they.
That’s how we learned that Jim, severely beaten himself, was the hostage who approached others and asked if they were okay. We learned that tension led to conflicts amongst the prisoners, and it was Foley who broke up the fights. We learned that Foley reassured others that they would soon be released.
And we learned that on Christmas Day, the captives formed a circle to reflect, and a fellow journalist, talking to Foley, told him, “You’re the most honest person. There is no evil at all to find in you, James. You are pure good, sometimes too good. I’m really happy that I’ve met you.”
This is what Oakes needed to show, that Jim Foley was more than a man in an orange jumpsuit, to be used for network ratings or political gain.
Foley, Oakes knew, was a hell of a lot more.
“He got along with everyone,” Oakes said. “He did whatever he wanted to do, and everyone really liked hanging around him for that reason. He didn’t judge people, and he didn’t care if people judged him.
“That was the core of him. That allowed him to do anything.”
(Ray Duckler can be reached at 369-3304 or rduckler@cmonitor.com or on Twitter @rayduckler.)