Anyone who has claimed that the COVID-19 pandemic is a fake, anyone that has called the coronavirus “the Chinese virus,” should be forced to watch the opening moments of 76 Days. Actually, they should be forced to work a shift in an ICU where people are drowning in their own liquified lungs; or talk to survivors whose teeth are falling out or who are suffering long-term cardiovascular, neurological, respiratory, and renal damage; or explain the “grand conspiracy” to someone who has to spend the final moments of their loved one’s life on the other side of a door that cannot be opened. Failing that, they should at least have to watch 76 Days, an on-the-ground reportage-style documentary about the early response to the pandemic in Wuhan, Hubei province, China, across the 76 days from the start of the government-imposed lockdown on Jan. 23 to its lifting, amid sirens and honking car horns, on April 8.
New York-based documentarian Hao Wu tackled a different kind of viral isolation in People’s Republic of Desire, his exploration of the online life of users of China’s YY social media platform. Here, Wu shares directorial credit on a film that could only have existed due to the internet, as he assembles footage by two journalists in Wuhan – filmmaker Weixi Chen and a reporter who has remained anonymous over concerns about blowback from the Chinese government. It’s purely coincidental that this film was created by a trio, much like the other vital examination of the pandemic, Alex Gibney, Ophelia Harutyunyan, and Suzanne Hillinger’s Totally Under Control. But whereas their film is a modern All the President’s Men, a journalistic ticktock of the Trump administration’s incompetence and malfeasance, 76 Days is stripped down to the barest essentials, following medical personnel in four hospitals across the city. No voiceover, no statistics, no timeline. Just long days trying to keep people alive.
There’s an astonishing immediacy that would be impossible to replicate, and filmmaking choices that under any other circumstances would seem disastrous. Time has no real meaning, and characters (barring a couple dealing with pregnancy in the middle of a health crisis, and the gloriously curmudgeonly Patient 40) are almost nonexistent. There are people in beds at various states of ill health, and medical staff whose features are enveloped in face shields over goggles over glasses (the only personal touches are the encouraging aphorisms and happy faces the staff sketch in marker on each other’s bodysuits, and those are all disposed of at the end of every day). That’s when it hits: If you can see someone’s face, they’re probably dying. Watching an elderly person struggle to breathe or swallow water, it’s hard not to remember when Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick suggested that old folks should be willing to sacrifice themselves for the good of the economy. 76 Days reinforces that their deaths are horrifying, sad, and lonely, with medical staff holding hands, calling them “mother” or “grandfather,” trying to give solace along with the palliative care.
In its quiet, apolitical observation, 76 Days points to a complete failure – not only of the Trump administration to get a handle on this public health disaster, but of the American press. It’s impossible to imagine that such a film would be made in the U.S., and it’s not because of potential HIPAA violations or patient privacy issues. Ever since the infamous photo of Phan Thị Kim Phúc, the screaming girl covered in napalm, turned the tide against the Vietnam War, American media has been increasingly squeamish about showing the horrible realities of life (never forget that more people saw an AIDS victim in a Benetton ad than on the nightly news). America is overdue its own 76 Days. Only it would have to be called 319 Days and Counting.
76 Days is available now as a virtual cinema release.
This article appears in The 2020 Gift Guide Issue.
