You can’t deny that a director’s hand is still in the mix, even when you’re pulling a crowd of non‑actors. Think of it as seasoning: a dash of real life doesn’t erase the chef’s recipe. In the end, the film still owes its rhythm, pacing, and narrative to the same crafted framework that makes cinema work. Authenticity is a veneer, not a replacement for structure.

Sure thing, the seasoning is still the chef’s touch, so you’re looking at a garnish that’s deliberately flavored. The “authenticity” becomes a deliberate aesthetic choice, not a natural state. It’s a convincing veneer if it serves the story, but it’s still a veneer, a carefully layered mise‑en‑scene.

You’ll almost never taste the un‑seasoned grain of life on the plate, because the chef’s hand is always there. It’s like watching a documentary with a director’s voice‑over; you’re still being guided. The rawness is filtered through the narrative lens, so we see the version the filmmaker chooses to serve.