Aleksei A. Navalny, the imprisoned Russian opposition leader, has long been adept at using social media to deliver political messages directly, laced with reports of the corruption and excessive spending of his country’s government officials, including some at the highest levels. .
In August 2020, Navalny was poisoned while traveling to Siberia to film a video about local corruption. Russian doctors blamed low blood pressure and said no poison was found in his system. But under duress, officials eventually flew him to Germany for treatment, where the poison was identified as a military-grade nerve agent from the Novichok family.
While recovering there, Daniel Roher, a 28-year-old Toronto documentary filmmaker, began to use his own form of storytelling to shed light on the dissident: He followed Navalny for months as he conducted another investigation, this time into his own poisoning.
The resulting documentary, “Navalny,” available Thursday on HBO Max, is both a look at Navalny’s efforts to track down the perpetrators who poisoned him and a call to action targeting his supporters in the event of his imprisonment, a hypothetically that would have come true quickly.
In a video call interview, Roher, who speaks no Russian, discussed being in the room when Navalny tricked one of his poisoners into confessing and how to build trust with a man adept at using the media to make his own money. to write a story.
These are edited excerpts from the conversation.
When did you first hear about Navalny?
Before the poisoning and before his name dominated global headlines, I knew he was an opposition man who was quite funny and meme-like, trying to fight corruption in Russia. What I knew about him is that he could use the internet, YouTube, in a very innovative way.
Can you tell me how the project came about?
Making documentaries is so often the art of being in the right place at the right time. I was working on a completely different film. One of the producers of ‘Navalny’, Odessa Rae, and I worked with a journalist named Christo Grozev who worked for [the international investigative site] belling cat.
The movie we originally made together didn’t go so well. In November 2020, Christo told us that he was already quite far down the rabbit hole of whom Navalny was trying to poison. Christo contacted Navalny and a week later Odessa Rae, me and Christo had a first meeting with Aleksei. He measured us a bit and checked the situation; we started working the next day. But of course I had to convince him that A: a documentary was a good idea, and B: I was the right man for it.
How did you develop that trust and that relationship?
I was very aware during that first meeting that here is a man who has his own reach. He doesn’t need anyone’s help to spread his message. So I explained to him what I think were the main differences between a documentary and a YouTube video. I invited him to envision the possible future where he goes back to Russia, as he told us he planned to, and he gets arrested and he languishes in jail in a year. I suggested, “You need some kind of vehicle that can keep your name and your plight in the headlines.” I think he appreciated the chutzpah and energy I brought.
He scoffed when you said he might be dead in a year, right?
The way Aleksei, I think, deals with the great danger he finds himself in as a result of his job, is by ignoring it. He and I connected through our shared sense of humor. His life is routinely threatened. And how does he deal with that? He laughs about it.
What measures have you taken to protect yourself? Were there times when you feared arrest?
We wanted to keep this film as top secret as possible. We understood that the Russian state security apparatus probably already knew what we were doing and was watching us, but we just didn’t want to draw too much attention.
Digital security was central. I haven’t sent an email for a year. We’ve done everything on encrypted messaging services. Our hard drives were encrypted. And I had to extend that to my family. I think everyone thought it was like, “Oh, that’s exciting. Our own little spy movie.”
What was it like to be in the room for that critical scene when they try to reach –
[Sarcastically] Which scene are you talking about?
When they try to reach the people who poisoned Navalny? How did you know what was going on, given the language barrier, and how quickly did you realize what was going on?
I could understand that the conversation was progressing in a way that the others [previous conversations] did not have. I remember seeing Mary [Pevchikh, the chief investigator of Navalny’s Anti-Corruption Foundation]her expression, her shock was as if – she wasn’t emoting – but then her jaw hinges and falls.
I immediately understand that something special is going on. And then this adrenaline rushes through your body. I remember that right at that moment, checking the focus. Concentration was good. Check battery on camera. Battery was good. Sufficient space on the hard drive. Just keep shooting.
There was a sense of disbelief after the phone call. We were all hysterical. It was absolutely immersive.
What did you think as a filmmaker?
This is the most important thing I will ever film in my life. This is a security breach at the highest level of the Russian security services that is so embarrassing. I was like, the world, the Russian people, need to understand what this is and what happened.
When Navalny’s team posted it online, did they use the same footage you use?
This was a government agent on an unsafe line, in minute detail, explaining exactly how they were trying to poison the opposition leader. And that was so breathtaking. I had no hesitation in holding it for the movie. It had to go live immediately.
One of the reporters in the film tells that Navalny considers himself half a journalist. What was your experience with that?
Perhaps his greatest political gift is his ability to control and govern social media. He handles it the way a sculptor handles clay, the way he floats from TikTok to Instagram to YouTube. So what I had to be aware of is how this master media strategist uses me as another tool to sculpt his sculpture. I think that tension runs throughout the film. The movie starts with me asking him a question and he says, “I’m not going to answer your question. We’re not going to make that boring movie. You’re making a thriller.” He guides me.
Has your thinking about the film changed given the invasion of Ukraine? How do you contextualize the film in this moment?
What I hope this movie remembers the world, and what I hope Navalny’s story reminds the world, is that Vladimir Putin isn’t Russia and Russia isn’t Vladimir Putin. What I think Aleksei is ultimately offering the Russian people is a different vision of what their country could be.