Jonas Poher Rasmussen is a Danish documentarian, and while he is featured in Neon’s Flee, this is not his story.  Rather, it is the story of Amin Nawabi, a childhood friend of Rasmussen who opens up to the filmmaker about his youth.  He recounts what life was like growing up in Afghanistan in the 1980s, fleeing to Russia and eventually Denmark, as well as discovering his own homosexuality and weighing the consequences of embracing that part of his identity against the ideals of his culture and upbringing.  It is a story that is tinged with pain, but also one of resilience told through animation and archival footage to protect the anonymity of both Amin and his family. 

Flee is told in a combination of colored 2D sketchbook style animation peppered with archival footage, a combination that finds a perfect balance with itself to complement the storytelling.  Rasmussen treats the animation as “real” as possible, going so far as to have Amin readjust his position on the couch so that he is better in the frame for the opening scene.  While it can sometimes be hard to remember that this is a real account of one man’s struggle to escape – a story which for millions of people around the world can relate – the archival footage that meets and overlaps with the animations makes sure we never truly forget that this is a tragic story deeply rooted in truth. 

Amin’s story can loosely be broken up into four parts.  It opens with memories of his childhood in Afghanistan.  We see that Amin, true to his own words, is a little different from the other boys as he skips and dances down the bustling streets to the beats from his pink headphones while wearing his sister’s dress.  The walls of his room are decorated with wrestling posters, though we can see that Amin appreciates the physique of the wrestlers more so than the violence and the pageantry of the matches.  His childhood is quickly cut short after his father is arrested and soon after the remaining family flees to Russia.  While there is the constant haze of confusion about identity and what it means to be gay in a society that did not even have a word for it at the time, as well as the looming political and ideological threat, the animation here still gives off a sense of warmth and fondness towards those memories. 

The animation style does not change for the long middle act in Russia, though the color palette becomes darker and greyer as the days turn to weeks, to months, and to years living in hiding out of fear of being discovered out of status and sent back to Afghanistan.  While in Russia, the narrative takes an incredibly heartbreaking turn as it focuses on the alienation one can feel during a largely inhumane immigration process.  As Amin’s world becomes smaller and smaller, the colors drain from his surroundings the only reprieve being the Spanish telenovelas the family spends their countless hours watching. 

There are two escape attempts made.  The first finds the family traversing at night through the forest to a small boat where they will be holed up underneath for the two-day journey.  They are intercepted and returned to Russia with empty pockets and sorrowful hearts.  Rasmussen intercuts this section of the film with lots of thoughtfully chosen yet still harrowing archival footage of immigrants seeking refuge and the terrible conditions to which those who are apprehended were subjected.  It is in these sequences where the power of Amin’s story as well as the skill of Rasmussen’s storytelling intersect and make something truly unique and sorrowfully wonderful to watch.  With shots of the present day, we know that Amin will find self-acceptance and we have that to look forward to, but in this middle act it is a story shared by millions of people across time and across the globe who are seeking a better life for themselves and their families; an environment where they can safely survive.  Rasmussen is not using Amin’s story as an avenue for trauma tourism, but he is doing it to honor the struggle and resolve of his friend and the countless other people who have sought better lives for themselves no matter the cost. 

The fourth section of Amin’s story – his adulthood – is told in pieces across the greater scope of the 89-minute film.  It splits its time between the interview sessions and tender moments with his fiancé as they make plans to buy their first house together.  The relationship here is one that is so important and while it is not the central plot, it highlights so many critical aspects of Amin’s life.  There is a fear of being able to open oneself up after trauma and that affects the relationships he has in his adult life.  There is a point in which Rasmussen asks Amin to clarify a part of the story we understood was true but is revealed to a lie that Amin has used as protection for the majority of his life.  The revel does not paint Amin as an unreliable narrator, but what it does is really help us to understand the gravity of his situation and it helps us better understand how he has prioritized his life.    

Flee tells a tragic story that is true for so many millions of people across the globe, but one that is unthought of by just as many millions more who can take their lives for granted having been born in the “right” country at the “right” time and identifying as the “right” type of person.  Thankfully for Amin, despite the rough start, he is able to find balance in his life and is on the path to thrive.  The use of animation here was, initially, practical to protect Amin and his family, but its use also makes his story that much heavier on the heart.  In animation, you can show and tell fantastical stories with ease, but in Flee the ideal dream that is shown is a life where one can find success in their career, their family, and their home.  The dream is to be able to be oneself and to be loved and accepted for who you are; something so simple but for many, it is not guaranteed.