Usually I read the New York Times and keep my newspaper reading to myself. But this article was something different. Commmitment to art is, generally, a good thing; I believe Zahedi may have carried it too far. Judge for yourself.

A Filmmaker Bared His Soul. It Ruined His Life.

Caveh Zahedi’s abject, self-defeating, ethically questionable, maddeningly original approach to documentary. By Christine Smallwood

On the fifth episode of Caveh Zahedi’s “The Show About the Show” — a metadocumentary series that is sort of like if “Scenes From a Marriage” were crossed with “Synecdoche, New York” and then filtered through reality TV and the cheerful low-budget atmosphere of public-access cable but also a completely sui generis work of art that is nothing like any of those things and doubles as a deranged social experiment — Zahedi’s wife, Amanda Field, pleads with him to leave something on the cutting-room floor. The context is a little hard to explain; it involves the question of whether reimbursing an actor for the cocaine he snorted is as illegal as buying cocaine for yourself. But Field is upset and wants it out.

“I can’t take it out,” Zahedi says, hero and antihero. His eyes are wide and innocent with zealotry. “Now that you’ve got so upset about it, I’ve got to re-enact this moment for the next episode.”

Zahedi, 59, has been a force in independent film for decades, writing, directing and starring in talky, low-budget and spellbinding work that uses his own life and persona as material. (He used to be compared to an underground Woody Allen, back when being compared to Woody Allen was a good thing.) Zahedi’s output — including the video diary “In the Bathtub of the World” and the cine-confession “I Am a Sex Addict,” as well as shorts, web episodes and video letters — was an inspiration to the mumblecore generation, many of whom have achieved greater fame than he has by applying his ethos to more conventional narratives. “Caveh’s work opened me up: as a creator, as a viewer, as a recovering moralist,” wrote Lena Dunham in the notes accompanying Zahedi’s DVD box set, “Digging My Own Grave.” The title of her essay was, “Holy Shit, You’re Allowed to Do That?” — and it’s true that Zahedi’s audacity is so overwhelming as to be blinding. It takes some time to notice that underneath the humor and raw willingness to humiliate himself is a rigorous, brutally efficient editor, shaping every moment for impact.

The rest of the article can be found at the NYTimes. 

Zahedi's website (the videos contained there have some ADULT content)