Published: 16 April 2007
Go to Turkmenistan, they said. Make a film about it. I can't, I said. The country's closed off. No one knows anything about it, and you're not allowed to film there. Find a way, they insisted. Film it secretly. But isn't that dangerous? Won't I get caught, and thrown into prison, and kept there for the rest of my natural life? What are you, they snapped back, a man or a mouse? Squeak, squeak, I went. But they sent me anyway. And I did end up becoming the first Western journalist to make a film about Turkmenistan or, more precisely, about the thoroughly potty dictator who ran the country. continue...
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