Cameraperson

Kirsten Johnson spent years shooting other people's documentaries and assembled this film from what was left over: a field in Bosnia, a delivery room in Nigeria, a fence near Guantanamo, a law office in the United States. None of it is explained and no context is supplied. Between them she cuts home footage of her own mother with Alzheimer's. The subject is the responsibility of the person behind the camera: what you have the right to film, when you should stop, what it means to record someone's worst moment. The result is not a documentary but a confession about a profession. The editing leaves the connections for the viewer to make. Who it is for: viewers who like films that think about documentary ethics and about cinema. Who it is not for: anyone expecting narrative, since this is deliberately scattered.