Retroish cartoon panels of Uday Hussein and torture cell blocks, thought balloons floating over live talking heads, amplified sound effects. The choice is a bold one, occasionally glib and almost derailing the seriousness of the material.
The banality and muted despair of this endured horror is laced with the all too chilling familiarity of racist US revenge culture, like police brutality, exported to an imperialist conquest war zone and spreading like a planetary social contagion.
A modestly mounted, but curiously poignant little documentary which somehow -- quietly, devastatingly -- shows and tells you more than you may perhaps want to know about the dehumanization implicit in the mighty, blighted Iraqi adventure.
The prisoner's journalistic tendencies served him well in jail: He chronicled details of his captivity, including names and serial numbers of fellow prisoners, in places guards wouldn't notice (like the inside of his boxer shorts).
The Prisoner doesn't try to put the entire war in context or offer broad solutions. It's a focused slice of the war, covering an issue that you've probably wondered about but haven't seen in many other places.