We Were Here looks back as AIDS swept over San Francisco

Thirty years after it first emerged and devastated our community, the AIDS Crisis lingers onâ┚¬â€ albeit far more quietly.

â┚¬Å”There's been a silence around the epidemic, partly because we all needed to take a breath,â┚¬Â says San Francisco-based filmmaker David Weissman.

Weissman's powerful new documentary We Were Here (co-directed and edited by Bill Weber, his collaborator on 2002's The Cockettes) looks back at AIDS' arrival and profound impact on San Francisco's LGBT community. His lens: riveting archival photos and video footage, and the touching recollections of five incredible survivors. The result is an intense, intimate and emotional experience that once again shines light on the forgotten and, to many younger gays, completely unknown horrors that AIDS unleashed on our community. Inspiringly, the film also recalls the caring and courageous activism that resulted.

We Were Here won the Audience Award at a jam-packed OutFest in Los Angeles. It debuts in Florida at the Tampa International Gay and Lesbian Film Festival at 1 p.m. on Sunday, October 9â┚¬â€a perfect time to sit back and fully consider a most important chapter in the LGBT history book. Weissman took a break from the festival circuit to discuss making the film, reliving his experiences through the process, and the controversial issues raised by looking back.

WATERMARK: AIDS has been around for 20 years. What made you want to make the film now?
DAVID WEISSMAN: The idea came from a conversation with a boyfriend, also a filmmaker, who was much younger than I. He'd heard me talk about my experiences during the early years and suggested that it would make a good film. I feel the movie creates a dialogue between generations about those important years. It's perfect that the idea was suggested by someone who had not lived through it.

Going back to that time, do you remember the first time you heard about AIDS?
I very much remember the Bay Area Reporter article in April of 1981 that said there was a cluster of [Kaposi's Sarcoma outbreaks] among gay men. And then a few months later there was another little article saying the CDC had also noted a cluster of pneumonia cases among gay men. The first stories were small, but I remember them vividly.

The documentary features just five interview subjects, all of whom you knew prior to making the the film. Did you consider featuring more voices and viewpoints?
Well, from the beginning I knew I wanted to limit the number of subjects because I wanted to tell a movie that was deep rather than broad. And that depth came from fully recounting the experience of those few people. You couldn't get the same depth if there were too many interview subjects. We settled on the five not because I'd known them, but because they offered such rich insights. There stories were so potent that I didn't want to dilute them. In this case, depth created breadth.

You got such compelling stories out of them. Were you surprised that their memories were still so accessible?
Part of the casting process was to identify people who would be really open to sharing their internal journey for the benefit of others. It was an intuitive process, and I think it worked. The ones we chose were incredibly generous with their memories and histories.

So you initially interviewed more people who were around back then?
Yes, many more.

Are the ones who got cut from the film upset?
No. I told everyone at the outset that there was a good chance some or all of their interviews wouldn't make it into the film. I think they appreciated having the opportunity to revisit and process that part of their life.  Many of them hadn't talked about it in years. I think it was a cathartic experience for everyone.

You used archival photos and footage I had never seen before. How did you find it, and was it difficult to get permission to use it?
It was particularly difficult to find photos of sick people, particularly with Kaposi's Sarcoma lesions, because people back then didn't want their pictures taken. So to find a picture of a sick person walking on Castro Street was not easy.

Once you started working on the film, did the intensity of the subject matter follow you home?
Yeah, it was an emotional journey to revisit all of that, even from a historical vantage point. I felt a responsibility to get the politics and the emotions right. And it was unavoidable to share that history without reactivating my personal experience. The same was true for Bill Weber, my filmmaking partner.

The film touches on some emotionally wrenching — but also largely forgotten — aspects of the AIDS crisis. For instance, a lot of people with AIDS committed suicide when they got extremely sick and there was no effective treatment. Many had the kind of â┚¬Ëœgoing away' gatherings like the one depicted in the film It's My Party.
There are so many things people have forgotten, or never knew. It's an extraordinary history of an extraordinary time. One incredible thing someone shared with me was that when they went to a performance back then in San Franciscoâ┚¬â€opera, symphony, a movie at Castro Theaterâ┚¬â€it was normal to hear beeping throughout because everybody had these beeper boxes to remind them to take all their different medicines at the exact time. It was chilling to be reminded of that.

The film is specific to San Francisco. Does it reflect what happened in other cities? Will people who went through the early days of AIDS in other cities relate to the film?
People will have to determine for themselves. I'm curious to know. I lived in San Francisco, so it reflects my vision of the experience there. There were very specific circumstances because of the power of the gay community and responsiveness of city government. So in some ways it's a singular story, but I also think it's universal. The human pieceâ┚¬â€the suffering, the sadness, the helplessness and frustration, and the care givingâ┚¬â€is universal to everywhere that AIDS existed in those early days.

Now that it's done, does the film surprise you in any way? Does it accomplish anything that you never envisioned?
It's hard to say, because everyone's experience of the movie is so personal and subjective. The most wonderful thing for me is when people tell me they saw it three times because it was so cathartic. And also how powerfully it has impacted young men. I've had many conversations with men in their 20s and 30s who were totally blown away by the movie. It enlightened them about how we got to where we are, what older gay men went through, and the extraordinary support provided by lesbians and also straight people. It's a story that hasn't been told like this movie tells it, and it's really gratifying that it's deeply impacting people.

Are there any parts you find hard to watch?
I haven't watched the whole movie yet without crying, so I don't sit through it very often anymore. The whole experience is hardâ┚¬â€not just watching the movie, but doing a Q&A after a film festival screening. It's challenging because it requires me to be present emotionally in a very painful area. But it's also a rich experience. I don't mind it, but it's exhausting.

In light of what passed, and all the new cases of AIDS still occurring, how do you feel about our brothers who eroticize barebacking? Do you think it's a disservice to all the lost lives and past suffering to overlook how challenging and expensive it can be to live with HIV today?
I hope that younger generations of gay men see this movie, and gain a greater respect for the suffering and strength of those who came before them. And I hope that translates into deeper thinking about their sexual behavior. The prevention message in the film comes from a place of love and self-respect rather than finger wagging. We're part of a community, and it's our responsibility to take care of ourselves and each other. That's our legacy.

Unlike back then, gay men today have so much knowledge about HIV and how to prevent its spread. And yet new infections occur, in alarming and steady numbers.
It's difficult for people who lived through those years to see people still getting infected. They're not taking the risk, or the ramifications, seriously. It's frustratingâ┚¬â€even enragingâ┚¬â€but I don't usually express that because I also feel compassion. The people doing the infecting are another story. If you're HIV-positive, you have an absolute responsibility not to infect anyone. Everybody has an obligation to not hurt anyone; not to make the world worse. And we as gay men have a unique obligation not to perpetuate the epidemic.