Cameraperson is the love letter and confessional diary of a cinematographer who spent her life behind the camera, but never outside the story. Kirsten Johnson patches together fragments from decades of filming, revealing not just what she captured — but what it meant to see. It’s part memoir, part meditation, part masterclass in the ethics of documentary.

What happens if you take all the “leftovers” from decades of filming other people’s stories and make them the story? Johnson did just that — transforming rushes, cuttings, and fragments into something poetic, disruptive, and startlingly original.

The narrative is not linear. It’s not even really a narrative. It’s a collage that becomes more honest than any “beginning-middle-end” arc could be. It tells the story of the person holding the camera — a story we usually never get. In doing so, it quietly rewrites the contract between filmmaker and audience.

The most radical part? It acknowledges contributors not as “subjects,” but as fellow humans. By keeping in her own mistakes, her hesitations, and her vulnerabilities, Johnson lays bare the power dynamics of filming others. She gives dignity not by erasing imbalance, but by showing it — and in doing so, she platforms people as more than symbols or case studies.

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Cameraperson reshaped how documentarians think about authorship and ethics. It gave permission to be honest about the uncomfortable realities of “bearing witness.” And it remains a compass for anyone who wants to make work that doesn’t just extract stories, but honours lives.

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Whether it’s a 30-second explainer, a 5-minute insight film, or a feature-length documentary, the principle is the same: dignity, detail, and resonance.

At The Good Side Productions, we bring that standard to every format — from corporate films to charity campaigns, from micro-content to feature length.

Check out our series of short documentaries for the National Citizen Service