Island of the Hungry Ghosts (2018)

Directed by: Gabrielle Brady | 98 minutes | documentary

Christmas Island is a small island in the Indian Ocean that has only been inhabited for about a hundred years. It belongs to Australia. Only one and a half thousand people live there, most of them of Chinese descent. They hold a ritual to give rest to the wandering spirits of the long-dead. Every year on the island there is a special migration of millions of red crabs that flock to the beach in the mating season. At the end is a detention center for unwanted migrants. Those are the basic ingredients for this fascinating Gabrielle Brady documentary. ‘Island of the Hungry Ghosts’ has been showered with awards and nominations at film festivals around the world. The documentary won the prize for best film at the famous Tribeca Film Festival.

In the film, Brady mainly follows Poh Lin Lee, a therapist specializing in trauma who treats people from the local hospital who are staying in the nameless detention center. Some only stay there for a short time, others are trapped there for years without a trial before the immigration judge and a decision in their case. Poh Lin is not employed by the center and regularly runs into a bureaucratic wall when she wants more information about the fate of the people she treats. She talks to the migrants about their fears, insecurities and what they have been through. The title ‘Island of the Hungry Ghosts’ sounds like it’s a cheap horror movie, but if there’s any horror at all, it’s the psychological kind. As a viewer you hear and see stories about horrific conditions at home, the trip to Australia and the occasional glimpse of the conditions under which they are held. It ensures that first one person, but later others, sew their lips shut. Poh Lin is also followed at home, with her French husband and her two daughters. They watch how the inhabitants make their ritual offerings to appease the spirits that roam the island. The girls ask them innocent questions about what’s happening on the island. They camp with the whole family and spend time together – all in stark contrast to the often lonely inmates who no longer have a home or family. Her work also slips into her private life, as she talks to her husband about what she is going through and experiences from the stories she is told. It’s all very intimate and not in the least stylized or staged. In addition, two officials regularly come into the picture, who take care of the roadblocks to make the migration of the red crab as easy as possible and to prevent them from being run over on the roads. They love to lay logs over ditches to help the crabs. The comparison between how the animals are cared for and how the people are treated is obvious, but Brady is not judging it.

The crab migration is a surreal sight that you can look at endlessly. Both in long close-ups and in overview shots where a whole road is covered by red armor and scissors it is breathtaking to see. The crabs are unique to Christmas Island, which is some 1,500 miles northwest of Australia, to which it belongs, but geographically it is much closer and right below the Indonesian island of Java. The name comes from an English captain who sailed past it on Christmas Day 1643 and named it after that holiday. Through the once mighty British Empire, it now belongs to Australia, which used the island as a detention center between 2008 and September 2018. The largest number of migrants held there was nearly 3,000, above the center’s maximum capacity, and in late 2018 it closed without much publicity and the last residents were transferred to other centers within Australia itself.

Brady sticks to her chosen subjects and strings the elements together in a poetic way. The wind that pulls over the rocks, the surf that beats on them. The clicking sound of the claws of the crabs. The rustle through the foliage. The sometimes monotonous voices of the migrants trying to find the right words in English for their most deeply lived memories. Brady lets the island speak for itself. There is no voice-over that connects the images, or fills in for the viewer which emotions they should experience. It is a portrait of the island itself and its inhabitants – both animal and human – and does not make overt statements to hammer a message into it. The beautifully shot images by cinematographer Michael Latham and the music by Aaron Cupples are penetrating and almost enchanting. It is not only in the stories of the detained migrants that the documentary resembles a horror film: the atmosphere with its misty trees, darkness and sounds is ominous. Although the film is oppressive at times, it never becomes depressing. ‘Island of the Hungry Ghosts’ certainly doesn’t make you let go right away.