Documentary as Ritual
What makes a ritual—and how does it mirror the practice of documentary filmmaking?
What is a ritual—and can it exist outside religion? For me, ritual is a sacred container, a way of honoring transformation, a space for presence and imagination. While ritual stands on its own, I’ve come to see that the process of making documentary films often carries the same qualities—intention, presence, and space for mystery to unfold.
I am not a religious person, though I did spend a few years at a Catholic middle school. By the time I entered St. Mary’s in 5th grade, I already thought of God less as a bearded man in the sky and more like a ball of energy that is everywhere all at once. When I later learned about Jesus, sin, and the whole doctrine, it never struck me as literal reality—more as a powerful story, written thousands of years ago to instill morals, educate the public, and build community. Even in 5th grade, I was already a little jaded about religion.
A decade later, in my twenties, I slowly discovered ritual—not through the church, but through spirituality. I found myself in sweat lodges, grief ceremonies, and plant-medicine circles. Each experience opened me to the truth that ritual is not about dogma—it’s about creating a sacred container for transformation. Over time, I realized the work I do in film is also a form of ceremony.
“A sacred life is a ritualized life, that is, one that draws constantly from the realm of the spiritual to handle even the smallest detail,” writes Malidoma Patrice Somé in Ritual: Power, Healing and Community.
What makes a ritual?
At its heart, ritual is born from intention, held within a container, and sparked by imagination.
How does film become a ritual ?
For me, it’s a dance between planning and openness—leaving space for magic and mystery to arrive. It’s about noticing, being present, finding release, and working with spirit. By externalizing thoughts, patterns, and beliefs—through words, actions, or imagery—I take what’s heavy inside and give it form. That act of bringing the invisible into the visible creates movement, shifting the energy and opening a pathway for release, clarity, and ultimately transformation.
Cinema works much the same way. Filmmaking recreates the world around us, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. Stories shape our inner landscapes and invite us into a shared space where we connect, feel, and reflect.
In documentary especially, the act of filming becomes a way of externalizing lived experience—giving form to emotions, struggles, and truths that might otherwise remain unseen. By bringing these inner worlds to the screen, the energy begins to move, offering space for release, recognition, and transformation—not only for the storyteller, but for the audience as well.
Just like ritual, documentary filmmaking begins with intention—the vision of the story you’re called to tell. The container is the frame you build: interviews, locations, the space you hold for truth. And the imagination comes alive in the weaving—how narrative, imagery, sound, and emotion are shaped together.
There’s always a balance between preparation and surrender. You plan what you can, but you also leave room for what wants to emerge: the unscripted moment, the unguarded emotion, the mystery that unfolds when you’re present behind the lens.
