Documentary Film Master

A shot typical of Jan Soldat’s films: the naked body of a man, shown from the knees to the chest. He is standing in a space typical of Soldat’s work (a basement) and, following the filmmaker’s directions from behind the camera, sits down on the floor. At that very moment, Soldat himself (wearing, as is typical, shorts and New Balance sneakers) steps into the frame, pulls out a pistol, and holds it to the man’s head. In a calm tone he orders the man, who is now looking into the camera, to read aloud the short passages of text from a sheet of paper. They are all messages addressed to the director, admiringly analyzing his documentary practice, and attributing to him an extraordinary humanity — and even a humanist ethic — as their tone spirals to ever-greater, unexpected heights of praise, homage, and veneration.  

Documentary Film Master is a film imbued with dark humor, tongue-in-cheek irony, but also perhaps a melancholic disenchantment. Naturally, it also serves as a commentary on the nature of documentary filmmaking, which to some extent is always staged, thereby raising questions about power dynamics. Yet the film goes well beyond this truism. The letters read aloud speak to power dynamics of a second order: the projections of the audience (a group that includes curators, festival directors, and others), who cannot help but interpret an immersive work not merely as such, but as an expression of the personal stance of an individual. As long as these works are screened, discussed, reviewed, and awarded prizes, this individual is celebrated, revered, and elevated — and declared the “master” of his creative practice. The letters thus point toward a market which all films are subject to and at the mercy of, and moreover, a market whose language defines and determines the value of both the films and their creators. It is in precisely this context that the letters take on an ambiguous, shifting nature: all those positive words, laden with markers of sincerity and adoration, are transformed into a weapon. In a metaphorical sense, it is a weapon that Soldat (and, by extension, all filmmakers) must surely feel hanging over their existence as artists. These sugar-coated threats reveal their intrinsic power: the praise contained therein vanishes as soon as people stop writing the letters, the letters no longer arrive, no one wants to screen the films, and the documentary film master falls from grace. (Alejandro Bachmann)  

Translation: John Wojtowicz