Kirsten Johnson's Cinematic Memoir Cameraperson is Both Personal and Expansive

The celebrated cinematographer's undeniable presence brings humanity to bleak footage.

At the start of director Kirsten Johnson's documentary Cameraperson, we're shown a herd of goats ambling through a field in Bosnia. There's no particular reason; reason isn't the spur that drives Cameraperson forward. Culled from footage Johnson has shot for numerous documentaries, including Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004), Citizenfour (2014) and Trapped (2016), the film is driven not by a single thought but by many.

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In many ways, Cameraperson is a study of human-to-human viciousness—a movie about rape, ethnic cleansing and Guantanamo Bay. Yet it's also about Alzheimer's, wrestling and being a mother to twins. It is a reflection of everyone and everything Johnson has explored as a filmmaker.

Johnson has been working as a cinematographer since the 1990s, and Cameraperson reflects the vastness of her body of work. By the end of the movie, she's journeyed to Afghanistan, Brooklyn, Nigeria, and Darfur—and has used vignettes from those disparate worlds to meditate on various brands of worldly horror.

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There's something dubious about a movie that tries to wow you with its virtuosity by wrapping9/11, the Iraq war, and the murder of James Byrd Jr. (who was dragged to death behind a car) into a single narrative. By the time Johnson turns her camera toward the awful sight of a newborn baby who can barely breathe, you may wonder if the movie's appetite for plunging into some of the worst moments in human history proceeds from a desire to manufacture superficial shocks.

But Cameraperson still commands your attention, hooking you with loose, tender moments. Johnson's kids grab at her camera's lens cap. Her father picks up a dead bird and promises to bury it under a tree. There's nothing extraordinary about these encounters, yet that's exactly why they're so entrancing.

Johnson's presence is undeniable throughout these scenes—often, we hear her talking behind the camera. It may be a movie, but it is also a memoir, a record of Johnson's life as an artist, a mother and a daughter. When Johnson finally appears onscreen nears the film's end, it doesn't seem shocking. The beauty of Cameraperson is that she's been there the whole time.

Critic's Rating: B+. Cameraperson is not rated. It opens Friday at Cinema 21.

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