In the realm of documentary filmmaking, there exists a persistent temptation to romanticize or condescend toward the lives of those marginalized or living outside societal norms. Films like the recent award-winning entry at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival expose this tendency vividly. While ostensibly celebrating the raw authenticity of overlooked communities, they often mask an undercurrent of voyeurism and superficiality that ultimately undermines their moral integrity. This paradox reveals much about our societal desire to portray “authenticity”—a desire that frequently conflates dirt and poverty with truthfulness, and eccentricity with profundity.
The Myth of the Noble Savage and the Fetishization of the “Authentic” Life
The documentary’s focus on the Bohemian brothers, František and Ondřej Klišík, exemplifies this phenomenon. They are portrayed as resilient eccentrics—rugged, unpolished, and unapologetically isolated—living in a crumbling farmhouse in the Czech Republic’s Bohemian Forest. Their lives are peppered with moments of humor, drunken outbursts, and philosophical dialogue that suggest a deeper understanding, or at least a different perspective, on human existence. Yet, beneath these surface qualities lies a troubling assumption: that these individuals, by their very deviation from modern societal standards, somehow embody purity and truth.
This tendency echoes the age-old myth of the noble savage—a savior figure whose simple life offers a critique or escape from the corrupting influences of modernity. However, this idealization dismisses the complex realities of such lives, ignoring the struggles, hardships, and systemic inequalities that shape their existence. The film’s tendency to frame eccentricity as authenticity risks romanticizing poverty and marginality, turning genuine hardships into spectacles for affluent audiences eager to feel morally superior or spiritually enlightened.
The Power and Pitfalls of Self-Representation
Remarkably, the filmmakers often choose to navigate a delicate balance—offering glimpses into these lives without fully capturing the underlying complexities, or the unvarnished truths. While the Klišík brothers reveal their anti-regime activism and autodidactic history, the film resists traditional expository storytelling, leaving viewers craving context and deeper understanding. Such restraint might appear respectful; however, it also leaves the audience in a state of ambiguity that borders on condescension, as if we are not capable of confronting the realities without the filter of eccentric charm.
This approach illustrates a fundamental flaw: it treats the subjects more as archetypes or symbols rather than full individuals. Audiences are invited to admire their eccentricities; less often are they challenged with the systemic conditions that confine them—such as economic viability, institutional neglect, or cultural marginalization. The result is a portrayal that may engender sympathy but rarely leads to meaningful engagement or reflection on the structural issues at play.
The Danger of Exploitation and the Need for Ethical Responsibility
The ethics of documentary filmmaking demand a critical approach—one that recognizes power dynamics and prioritizes dignity over spectacle. Unfortunately, many contemporary documentaries, including this award-winning piece, tend toward voyeurism, subtly commodifying the lives of their subjects for entertainment. The focus on scenes like naked wanderings, the brothers’ bickering, or cows engaging in exaggerated acts of affection, while amusing, risk reducing their entire existence to entertainment value rather than a nuanced human story.
Furthermore, the film’s sparse exposition about the brothers’ revolutionary past—highlighting their anti-regime activities only briefly—deceives viewers into perceiving them merely as quirky hermits rather than complex political actors. In doing so, it perpetuates a simplified narrative that champions the rustic life without interrogating the broader social and political histories that have shaped these lives.
Can Authenticity Be Questioned in a Commercialized World?
At the heart of this critique lies a profound question: Is the pursuit of authenticity in documentary film inherently problematic? Or does it simply reflect our collective desire to anchor ourselves to perceived truths amid chaos? The answer, perhaps, resides in the studio of ethical filmmaking—an approach that refuses to settle for surface-level storytelling and instead strives for a genuine exploration of human complexity.
The danger is that in glorifying eccentricity or poverty as virtues, filmmakers risk reinforcing stereotypes that paint the rural or marginalized as exotic—an oversimplification that strips away their humanity. True documentaries should challenge viewers to confront uncomfortable truths, question their assumptions, and recognize the multi-layered realities of those who lead lives far removed from their own.
By critically examining these tendencies, we can begin to nurture a genre that values dignity, depth, and awareness over superficial charm or “quirkiness.” Only then can documentary filmmaking serve as a genuine instrument for societal reflection and change, rather than merely a source of voyeuristic entertainment disguised as moral engagement.