DocFixWhy Amateur Documentaries Feel Preachy (And what I learned from Jackie Chan)
I was walking through Hong Kong airport, about to make a documentary about Jackie Chan, when I went to find my cab and was greeted by… a life‑size cut‑out of Jackie Chan.
He was the ambassador for the city, and the significance of who I was going to be hanging out with struck me for the first time. I should probably have known more about him, but something interesting was happening in my career.
I wasn’t getting hired as a subject specialist. I was getting hired as a director and storyteller.
Part of the reason we become documentary filmmakers is that we’re inquisitive and curious about the world. What I discovered was that you can turn that curiosity to almost any subject, as long as your storytelling craft is strong.
That, in part, was why I was asked to direct a biography of the great man.
I got to spend time on set with him, watching him choreograph his own stunts, and time at his HQ. In the basement garage he and his team practised dangerous stunts (including throwing each other off scarily high structures). Behind a bookcase - very James Bond - he kept his collection of props. Upstairs was an old‑school Steenbeck edit table, under which he often slept.
That was where all the magic came together.
He was a dedicated genius. Seeing him at work, seeing what he did to get to his level, and then having to turn that into a compelling story taught me a huge lesson about the difference between amateur and professional filmmakers.
It doesn’t come down to budget. Or access. Or even technical skill – how you block, frame or light a scene.
It’s that professionals have something to say, and are prepared to explore the paradox. Amateurs tend to preach.
The Problem With Proving Points
Most documentary makers approach their subjects like advocates. They want to show that their person is brilliant, their cause is just, and their story matters.
The result feels shallow, one‑dimensional, and preachy.
When I made that documentary about Jackie Chan, I could easily have made a film proving he was a dedicated genius who revolutionised cinema. It was something I was learning very quickly.
It was all true. But incomplete.
Yes, his dedication to his craft created some of the most joyful, innovative cinema ever made. But spending all his time in that building, on location, and sleeping under his edit suite also destroyed his family life. There was a huge price to pay, not an abstract one that happened to him, but one that came from his own choices.
Both truths coexist.
The Michel Thomas Example
I’d seen this pattern before, filming Michel Thomas, the legendary language teacher, for my documentary The Language Master.
His arrogance was obvious, and it limited how far his revolutionary teaching methods could spread. But that same arrogance was essential to developing those methods in the first place. And it kept him alive when, as a member of the French Resistance, he was interrogated by Klaus Barbie, the Butcher of Lyon, during WWII.
The trait that limited him also created and sustained him.
Both things are true. And putting what might look like the “negative” side of the coin into your film - the part you fear will weaken your story - is usually the thing that strengthens it.
Jung’s Insight Applied
The great Swiss psychoanalyst Carl Jung understood something about human psychology that most documentarians miss:
The opposite of a great truth is also true.
This isn’t about showing “balance” for the sake of fairness. It’s about recognising that human beings are fundamentally contradictory. We’re all simultaneously helped and hurt by our greatest strengths.
Amateur documentaries feel shallow because they only show one side:
- “Jackie Chan is dedicated.”
- “Michel Thomas is brilliant.”
Professional documentaries feel sophisticated because they show the contradiction: dedication that creates and destroys, brilliance that illuminates and blinds.
Why This Works With Audiences
When you show these contradictions in your subjects, audiences recognise something true about their own experience. They’ve all been simultaneously helped and hurt by the same trait, the same choice, the same relationship.
This recognition creates a more profound connection than any argument could. Instead of being convinced, they’re understood.
I’ve mentioned this insight before, which comes from the pianist Phil Best, but it’s worth repeating:
When the audience understands, they feel understood.
That’s huge. You have to express your truth clearly, in a way that is understood. Your audience doesn’t can feel inauthenticity in your story, and feel manipulated. The truth feels true because it feels like their experience of life.
Taking these insights and turning them into a craft are exactly what I work through with filmmakers in DocFix. They wrestle with the same dilemma: “How can I show their flaws without making them look bad?”
The breakthrough comes when you realise you’re not showing flaws and virtues as separate things. You’re showing how the same quality can be both.
Jackie Chan’s obsession isn’t a virtue with a side effect – it’s simultaneously creative and destructive.
It “works” because it’s true, about life. About all our lives. Not a cleaned‑up version to create a happy ending, but a great story that feels authentic – because it is.
The Commercial Proof
Of course, it’s all very well me saying that. Does it actually help how well a documentary does?
Yes.
One of my students, Liam, made a documentary called A Cursed Man, about whether he could actually be cursed by magic. His obvious fear was:
“What if the curse doesn’t work? Then I don’t have a story.”
We explored the contradiction: magic might not “work” in the literal sense, but there’s something more profound about what “working” means.
The curse could fail and still reveal truths about belief, community, and the power of ritual. And, as I’ve talked about before, not relying on a simplistic “proof” of success is a hallmark of sophisticated documentaries. In Liam’s case there was another side to his exploration, a personal need to understand a deeper truth.
When he found that, the story had success, failure and meaning built into it.
The film hit #1 on Apple TV in 13 countries because it didn’t need to prove magic was real. It explored the contradiction of something that might not work and yet still transforms lives.
It was human and relatable.
How To Find These Contradictions
The method is straightforward:
- Start with what you most admire about your subject. What draws you to them? What do you want to celebrate?
- Ask: “What’s the shadow side of this exact same quality?” Don’t look for separate flaws. Look for how their greatest strength is also their greatest weakness.
- Show both simultaneously. Don’t resolve the contradiction – recognise and use it.
- Trust the complexity. Audiences can handle contradiction better than they can handle simplification.
When you learn to see and use these contradictions, your documentaries stop feeling like arguments and start feeling like life. Complex, contradictory, recognisably human life.
You stop being an advocate for your subject and become an author exploring what it means to be human.
And it’s not just about human subjects. If you’re advocating for an environmental or social cause, acknowledge the other side to your argument. If you can’t find one, it’s because you’re not being honest.
The sophisticated documentary doesn’t resolve the contradiction – it recognises and uses it. That’s where the psychological depth comes from. That’s why some documentaries feel profound while others feel shallow.
That’s the difference between proving and exploring.
The Question That Changes Everything
So here’s what I want you to consider:
- What are you trying to prove in your current documentary that you should be exploring instead?
- What contradictions are you afraid to show?
- What complexity are you avoiding because it doesn’t fit your argument?
And truth, even contradictory truth – especially contradictory truth – is what audiences really want to see.
Learn The Process
This way of thinking – seeing and using contradictions – needs to become natural and instinctive. It can’t just be an intellectual exercise you remember occasionally.
That’s exactly what we do in DocFix. There’s an online programme that contains every nuance I’ve explored here – refined, systematic, and immediately applicable to your current project.
You’ll join a community of like‑minded filmmakers working through the same challenges, and I’ll mentor you when you need it.
Because understanding the principle is one thing. Making it second nature in your filmmaking is another. DocFix exists to bridge that gap: taking ideas like this and wiring them into how you structure and cut your actual film.