Joshua Oppenheimer

Oppenheimer’s roots run deep in Germany—his grandfather was a Frankfurt guy, while his grandmother hailed from Berlin. Lucky twist of fate, his granddad bailed on Germany before Hitler’s ugly rise, heading over to the U.S. for studies. Eventually, he went back to Europe for a bit, risking it all to pull a few family members out of the fire. But, man, the Holocaust hit hard. Most of the Oppenheimer clan didn’t make it. That shadow sort of lingers over the family story, you know? It’s wild to think about fate and timing like that—if his grandfather hadn’t left when he did, the whole line could’ve vanished. The trauma and loss from that era shaped the Oppenheimers, giving the family history this bittersweet edge: survival mixed with heavy loss. That background, all the heartbreak and resilience, ended up coloring a lot of what came later, both for Oppenheimer himself and the family legacy.

The Act of Killing (2012) isn’t your average documentary—it’s more like a wild fever dream masquerading as reality. It throws you straight into the minds of people actually bragging about the kind of violence that should make anyone sick. They’re not hiding; they’re putting their crimes on display, almost like they want to be remembered for it. Makes you wonder what’s really going on inside their heads, or who they’re trying to impress. The film doesn’t just record facts, it pushes you into this warped world where truth and imagination blur together. It’s less about strict documentation and more like a surreal opera, letting the killers direct their own twisted narratives. You end up questioning not just what happened, but how these men want to be seen, how they see themselves, and what any of it even means. It’s unnerving, jarring, and honestly, it’s impossible to look away.