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Fear and Loathing at the Berlinale

'Strange Culture' Documents Post-9/11 Paranoia

By Jess Smee in Berlin

The harrowing documentary "Strange Culture," currently being shown as part of the Berlin International Film Festival, tells the disturbing story of a man accused of bioterrorism by the FBI -- for possessing art supplies.

For most people, the date 9/11 is etched on their memories. For Steve Kurtz, it has since been superseded by 5/11. The date marks his wife’s premature death and the start of a thriller-like legal battle involving FBI agents, Petri dishes and the prospect of a prolonged stint in jail.

Kurtz's story is the subject of "Strange Culture," a harrowing documentary being aired at the Berlinale film festival as part of the "Panorama" section. It charts an escalating spiral of events which rocked the life of the American arts professor.

"Like many unfortunate dramas, this story begins with a death," dictates a newsreader in the opening sequence of the documentary. On May 11, 2004 Kurtz woke up to find his wife, Hope, had died of heart failure in her sleep. He called 911 but was deeply shocked when, a couple of hours later, their home was crawling with FBI agents who had been alerted to the existence of "suspicious" art materials.

The agents impounded computers, books, his wife's corpse and even their pet cat. Kurtz was held as a suspected bioterrorist -- and is still awaiting trial. "Bob, it's unreal, they're charging us with bioterrorism," an exasperated Kurtz tells a friend on the phone. "I think I'm going crazy."

He was speaking to his long-time collaborator Dr. Robert Ferrell, former chair of the Genetics Department at the University of Pittsburgh Graduate School of Public Health. Both men are charged with federal mail and wire fraud and face a sentence of up to 20 years.

The goose-bump inducing story -- which conjures up a climate of suspicion following the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks -- is directed by artist and filmmaker Lynn Hershman Leeson. She described the shocked response of Berlinale audiences to her saga of official suspicion, bioterrorism and personal loss. "We have seen widespread disbelief that something like this could happen in America," she told SPIEGEL ONLINE. "It's hit a nerve with people because the situation is just so outrageous."

Its stint at the Berlinale follows screenings at the Sundance film festival in late January. There critics were impressed and shocked, describing Kurtz's treatment as "Kafkaesque" and "paranoid."

And the tale is hard-hitting. Kurtz himself makes an appearance, coming across as a down-to-earth guy struggling to make sense of events out of his control. He talks viewers through his work with the Critical Art Ensemble, a controversial group of artists which used scientific tests to publicize fears about genetically modified foods and inadequate food labeling.

The film gives the impression that Kurtz was pounced on by jumpy security services -- becoming the focus of a precedent-setting case about the extent of artists' freedom of expression.

Surreally, the case started with his possession of items like mutated flies, which, as the film points out, can be bought on the Internet by anyone with a credit card. His suspicious supplies included Petri dishes containing bacteria, which are standard equipment in universities.

As well as appearing in the documentary in person, Kurtz is played by an actor -- a device used by Hershman Leeson to sidestep legal restrictions. Unusually, the film includes scenes of Kurtz discussing the case with his doppelganger -- with the effect of making the acted scenes seem more real.

The mixture of reenactments and personal testimony is just one way that artist and filmmaker Hershman Leeson distances herself from traditional documentary making. She avoids talking heads and wordy explanations. Instead, Kurtz's story is told with a patchwork of stark black-and-white cartoons, news footage and interviews.

Fears about a restrictive state system resurface throughout the film. In one scene, students are asked to sign a petition in support of Kurtz. One young man refuses, saying that he's afraid it would give him a record with the FBI and jeopardize his future.

And Hershman Leeson says that Kurtz's tale is the tip of a little-publicized iceberg. "I came across so many other similar, smaller stories that at one point I was thinking of recapping them all at the end of the film," she said. "Those affected were mostly artists and professors -- but Steve's experience was by far the most dramatic."

But despite positive reviews, the political nature of the film has deterred potential distributors. "The subject scares people," Hershman Leeson says, adding she is still in discussions with North American distributors. "I tried to get people to help when I was just starting out but it was too political for anyone in Hollywood."

In this sense, "Strange Culture" is well suited to the Berlinale, a film festival famed for politics rather than glamour. Last year, Michael Winterbottom's docu-drama "The Road to Guantánamo" won plaudits. Among the 2007 crop, the South African film "Goodbye Bafana," which charts Nelson Mandela's 27-year-long incarceration, is among those with its sights set on the Golden Bear award. Meanwhile, the Panorama section of the Berlinale also features "Surveillance," a fast-moving political saga which raises questions about the prevalence of closed-circuit television (CCTV) in Britain.

"Strange Culture" ends with rolling credits and thriller-style music. But the real-life political thriller of Steve Kurtz and co-defendant Robert Ferrell looks set to run and run. The court case has been cancelled four times and there has been no new date set for a hearing.

"Everyone thought I was crazy to make this film before the end of the trial," Hershman Leeson said. "But I wanted to get something out as soon as possible. We could be still waiting for a trial in 20 years' time."