The camera that lacks respect for human beings distorts the truth. If these principles are respected, there is no objection to the meticulous reconstitution or staging of scenes. –– Henry Storck
A camera’s ubiquity is always intertwined with power, ideas, and choices about what lies before it. Through their agency, filmmakers frame, edit, and interpret what is captured and ultimately inscribed. What we see on screen is not a plain mirror of reality but a reflection shaped by the filmmaker’s hand. Yet the camera can also trap us into stopping at who is portrayed, instead of asking what is truly at stake.
Globally, documentary funding and festivals tend to favor narratives anchored in figures. Prominence is often seen as the quickest way to draw attention, especially when a film seeks to address larger issues. A strong figure is too easily assumed to equal a strong story. This tendency has also become a fixture of documentary production in Indonesia today. As a result, many films walk a fine line between becoming profiles that celebrate individual achievements and narratives that carve space to interrogate the circumstances around them. The who often overshadows the what. Audience may leave the cinema in awe, but not always with an understanding of the conditions, structures, or systems that shaped the character. In this situation, perhaps we need to question our position as filmmakers and audience: what is lost when the spotlight stops at the figure?
The filmmaker’s agency in positioning the camera plays a decisive role in shaping a narrative’s direction. Every frame and cut is not merely a technical choice, but a decision that asserts a perspective. Through these choices, the filmmaker opens a space of interpretation for the audience. Rather than stopping at the who, a film can invite us to read, to experience, and even to question the narrative it presents. Are we simply watching a group of women weaving in See a Mother, a Wife, and a Weaver (Suharditia Trisna Anugerah, 2025)? Or can we encounter NH Dini beyond the adoring gaze of those who loved her in NH Dini (Ardian Parasto, 2024)? Perhaps we are also being asked to dive deeper into what emerges in The Silenced Soil (Dara Asia, 2025) or The Last Accord: War, Apocalypse, and Peace (Arfan Sabran, 2025).
Figure-centric documentaries are not destined for glorification alone. On the contrary, they can challenge us to look past the surface, to engage with what lies beyond the figure on screen. If a camera that respects its subjects can render reality, then perhaps our responsibility as audience is to question the moment it turns them into a monument.
