Filming on your own
Reflections on Three Decades of Filmmaking: Between Autonomy and Collaboration
0 - Why do you film on your own?
My answer to this question has changed over the course of my life. This essay traces the evolution of my filmmaking practice from 1982 to 2015, navigating the balance between technical autonomy and artistic collaboration.
I started filming on my own in late 1982, learning how to use the camera I had just bought. It was a 16mm ARRI ST camera with a revolver head and three lenses. At the time, I was working as a video technician at FR3 (France 3); news segments were still shot on 16 mm reversal film. Filming took place in the morning, and in the afternoon the rushes were developed and edited, then screened that evening during the news broadcast via a Telecine.
📹 Historical footage
- Camera: ARRI ST 16mm with a revolver mount and 3 lenses
- Film: 30-meter rolls of slide film
- Professional cameras: Eclair Coutant and Eclair ACL
Using 30-meter rolls of slide film, I learned to meter light and compose shots on the streets of Paris. With slide film, the contrast was high, the exposure latitude was narrow, and you had to be precise, because the film was expensive.
1983 was also the year of my first trip to Ouagadougou, to FESPACO, the Pan-African Film Festival. Since I hadn’t made a film yet, I went there as a critic for a magazine we had founded in Paris: Bwana Magazine. It was an opportunity for me to meet the first generation of great African filmmakers: Ousmane Sembène, Ababacar Samb Makharam, Paulin Soumanou Vieyra, Tahar Cheriaa, Med Hondo, Jean-Pierre Dikongue-Pipa, Djibril Diop Mambéty, and Souleymane Cissé.
Inspired by these discussions and the encouragement of a few older filmmakers—who were in tune with the theories of Third Cinema and unwilling to let me be co-opted into postcolonial frameworks that assigned labels of quality to observational films, which insidiously perpetuate power dynamics in society— I left Ouaga in ’83 determined to embark on the adventure of filmmaking.
Homage (1985) - 13 minutes
It was with my Arri ST, a Sony cassette recorder, and a Minolta CL camera—a budget version of the Leica CL—that I made my very first film, *Hommage*. The sound wasn’t synchronized, and for every shot I took, Madeleine Beauséjour—who would later edit the film—recorded a corresponding sound take.
This first film was shot when production on another film, *Yellow Fever: Taximan*—the story of a taxi driver’s day, which was supposed to be filmed in Yaoundé with a crew of three—a cameraman, a sound engineer, and an assistant—was delayed by administrative complications. While waiting for this filming permit (which would not be issued until after my departure from Cameroon), I went to my village, where I began filming life and people going about their daily routines.
The Search for a Cinematic Identity
In *Hommage*, I attempt an autobiographical exploration by constructing the narrative around a fragmented, multifaceted persona shaped by successive journeys from the village to the city in Cameroon, and from the Cameroonian city to Europe. This monologue-dialogue, which serves as the film’s voice-over, is also an attempt to distance myself from the impersonal “God” voices that punctuated—and continue to punctuate—certain documentary films today.
The Ritual of Film Photography
When I first started filming, it was like a game. There was a whole ritual to follow: loading the film in the dark, without being entirely sure it wouldn’t jam. Then came that feeling of joy when the camera started rolling without a hitch. Right away, you had to focus on the subject you were filming. Did we measure the light correctly? Did we set the right aperture? And who are we focusing on? And is the subject doing what we expect them to do?
All these questions get your adrenaline pumping and transport you to a surreal world—the world of cinema—that you’re not sure you’ll be able to capture with your camera. Then come weeks of waiting, sometimes months, before you finally get to see the footage, because in Cameroon, there were no film processing labs.
🎥 Collaborations with cinematographers
With no model to follow, it took me six years to find a form that combines my reflections on the state of the world and the place assigned to me in this world as an African, with *Afrique, je te plumerai...*, a film in which I was supposed to be both behind the camera, the filmmaker, and also the voice guiding the viewer on this journey through time. A first-person film.
The Experience of Fiction
Clando (1995) - Feature film
In 1995, for my first feature film, *Clando*, I traveled to Cameroon and Germany with Nurith Aviv, who shot the film in 16mm using an Aaton. I was looking for someone who could give me a raw, almost documentary-style look—often handheld, with minimal lighting—and non-professional actors, with the exception of Paulin Fodouop, Caroline Redl, and Joseph Momo. It was a wonderful experience. My inspiration in this genre was Ken Loach from the 1970s and 1980s, with his unforgettable films about the working class in the United Kingdom.
🔄 The transition from film to video (1997)
The transition from film to video was seamless. In 1997, I left France 3 to devote myself entirely to my films, particularly the production of *Vacances au Pays*. For this film, I set up a shooting setup that combined 16mm film and video. The wide shots were shot on 16mm, and the interviews were filmed on video using a shoulder-mounted camera that could hold 3-hour tapes. This gave me considerable flexibility.
Spontaneous films
While scouting locations for this film, I stumbled upon a scene of mob justice, which I filmed from start to finish and which became the starting point for *Chef!*, the second film I shot, produced, and directed. This film could not have existed in the days of film, and I don’t think anyone else could have filmed this story for me.
What prompted me to start filming in this particular case was the situation itself: a teenager caught red-handed stealing was at risk of facing what is commonly referred to in Cameroon as “mob justice.” I knew from experience that in more than 80% of cases, it ends badly. I decided to film to document this irrational and dangerous behavior. But when the violence began, I couldn’t continue filming. I stepped in to temporarily save the boy’s life.
With each film, my approach began to take shape. My desire was to observe my country, to decipher it, to analyze the behavior of my compatriots through a first-person cinematic lens that went beyond mere observation to reinterpret reality, using candid shots to weave them into a narrative that was sometimes fictional, but often analytical.
Boss!
Spontaneous Film (1999)
Alex's Wedding
Spontaneous Film (2002)
A Leaf in the Wind
Spontaneous Film (2013)