The Red God is a deceptively simple essay film. For four minutes, Christine Rogers strings together footage recorded by a wildlife camera that she set up in her backyard in Belfast, Ireland. She was curious who or what was making the path that was worn into the grass on the bank behind her house. We soon discover, as does she, that foxes frequent her garden. They unwittingly pose for the wildlife camera, but Rogers’ resulting montage transcends the conventions of a typical nature documentary. She reflects on her desire to connect with her nonhuman neighbors, leading herself – and her viewers – to unexpected themes.

The formal choices that Rogers makes during the postproduction process of this video essay are guided by ethical concerns. What distance should she keep from the foxes, both in real-life encounters and when manipulating the footage? In what ways does the making of this video evoke echoes of colonisation and imperialism, of adoption and displacement? Is curating wildlife footage similar to the guardianship that Rogers’ Māori ancestors showed for nature? Is it even ethical to record animals, or is doing so just another example of our human hubris? All these elements find their way into the voice over narration and, more importantly, into the subtle editing decisions that Rogers makes.

This video essay was published in Screenworks (a peer-reviewed publication of practice research in film and screen media) alongside a compelling research statement that elaborates on the questions mentioned above. In her generously personal text, Rogers connects her videographic research to topics as diverse as her Māori ancestry and her personal history, to decolonisation and the camera as imperial tool, to speciesism and the human/nonhuman divide.

A wildlife camera is also called a camera trap, Rogers notes in her research statement – a term that feels particularly apt. The camera not only seeks to trap animals on video but also risks trapping its human user in a double bind. Christine Rogers is acutely aware of this dilemma. On one hand, the camera provides her an opportunity to connect with the nonhuman (a connection she longs for, partly because she misses the cats she used to have in her native Aotearoa). On the other hand, the camera invokes power dynamics that are at odds with Rogers’ Māori and ethical sensitivities. The video essay ultimately suggests that, in this case, the distance the camera creates from reality serves as a benefit rather than a drawback.