For many in the cinematic realm and beyond, Claude Lanzmann’s monumental documentary Shoah, which premiered in 1985 and spans an impressive 566 minutes, stands as an unparalleled achievement that has yet to be eclipsed. Even Lanzmann, who later produced a few films using footage that was left on the cutting room floor of Shoah, never reached the same levels of artistic and emotional profundity as he did with this groundbreaking exploration of the Holocaust. Viewing Shoah is not merely an act of watching; it is an immersive experience that is best undertaken on the big screen over the course of two days, leaving a lasting impression.
Given this context, it feels almost audacious for another filmmaker to sift through the additional footage from Shoah to create a new film. However, that is precisely what has been done with the recently released All I Had Was Nothingness (Je n’avais que le néant — “Shoah” par Lanzmann), a project produced by Lanzmann’s widow, Dominique.
In the hands of director and screenwriter Guillaume Ribot, the new documentary pays homage to the original while providing an insightful glimpse behind the scenes. Ribot effectively utilizes Lanzmann’s words and visuals to convey the immense personal and logistical challenges inherent in making Shoah. While Nothingness may never rival the original, it offers a thought-provoking examination of the making of a documentary masterpiece, serving as a brief introduction to the extensive narrative captured in Shoah.
Lanzmann, who passed away in 2018 at 92, was a formidable journalist, filmmaker, and author known for his confrontational style and undeniable ego. Throughout Ribot’s film, he is depicted as an unyielding force, traveling the globe— from New York to Tel Aviv, Germany to Poland— to interview Holocaust witnesses from all perspectives: the survivors, the perpetrators, and the bystanders who lived in proximity to horror yet remained willfully ignorant. This theme is also present in works such as Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest.
Today, countless Holocaust documentaries can easily be accessed through various platforms, but back in 1973, when Lanzmann began tracking down survivors to document their stories, the genre was virtually non-existent. Reflecting on this, Lanzmann noted, “There was no reality to film. It had to be created,” a statement conveyed in Ribot’s voiceover, drawn directly from Lanzmann’s 2009 memoir, The Patagonian Hare: A Memoir. This book recounts the arduous twelve-year journey behind the making of Shoah.
The reality that Lanzmann and his small crew constructed— including the esteemed cameraman William Lubtchansky, son of Holocaust survivors— was one where history’s trauma was revisited through lived testimony rather than archival footage. Shoah includes no historical clips; it comprises solely of firsthand accounts that evoke the atrocities experienced by individuals. Rather than showcasing concentration camps as they once were, the film captures their somber remnants— overgrown fields nestled within forests and farmland. The "nothingness" referred to in the new documentary’s title symbolizes not only the scarcity of tangible evidence of the Holocaust at the time but also the “allegorical experience” of creating a film “whose subject would be death itself.”
Lanzmann’s commanding presence is undeniable throughout Ribot’s film, where he tirelessly pursues elusive truths, grappling with fatigue, financial obstacles (notably, “not a single U.S. dollar” funded Shoah, despite his efforts to secure financing), and an existential crisis lasting over a decade. While his physical absence is pronounced in Shoah, Ribot’s documentary highlights Lanzmann’s journey, transforming him into the focal point— a portrayal that might have provoked his disapproval despite his well-known self-admiration.
For those familiar with Lanzmann’s original work, it’s captivating to witness the tremendous effort and determination he displayed in capturing stories that were often buried or overlooked, whether by survivors or perpetrators alike. Like a precursor to Michael Moore, Lanzmann is depicted knocking on doors of former German soldiers from concentration camps, eliciting tearful confessions through covert recordings. At one point, he even narrowly escapes capture, leaving behind costly equipment.
Moreover, viewers gain insight into how Shoah was not only documented but masterfully directed. In the unforgettable scene featuring Abraham Bomba—who described his harrowing experiences cutting the hair of fellow Jews on their way to extermination—Lanzmann innovatively filmed Bomba in a Tel Aviv barber shop. This decision was intended to help Bomba recall his past more vividly through the act of mimicking the motions, creating one of the most haunting sequences in cinematic history.
Other sequences reveal Lanzmann’s intentional staging, such as the opening scene featuring a retired Polish train conductor retracing the route he once took to transport Jews to concentration camps. This meticulous recreation required significant resources, demonstrating Lanzmann’s commitment to conveying truth through visual storytelling. He believed, as he stated in his memoir, that “the act of transmitting is all that matters,” a sentiment beautifully echoed in Ribot’s film.
While certain aspects of All I Had Was Nothingness, like the prevalent voiceover, deviate from Lanzmann’s own stylistic choices, Ribot’s documentary powerfully showcases the enduring impact of Shoah, even decades after its premiere. It may inspire those unfamiliar with the original to finally engage with it. Additionally, for those with limited time, Lanzmann’s later works, such as The Last of the Unjust and The Four Sisters, present shorter but meaningful complements to Shoah, featuring footage from his decade-long quest— a profound reflection on our shared history and a testament to the shadows cast by the Holocaust.
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Behind the Scenes of ‘Shoah’
