Soldiers of Light

The world is out of joint, and nowadays everyone seeks, no matter how scarce it may be, a sense of control. Given the political and economic instability that affects even the most developed countries, people are in desperate need of solid ground on which to take root – both financially and spiritually. The widespread fixation on health and wellness, which all of us experience to varying degrees, appears to be a direct outcome of this Don Quixotesque pursuit – one that, if left unchecked, turns the individuals into easy targets for neoliberal and/or far-right ideologies.

Premiered this year in Visions du Réel’s International Feature Film Competition, Johannes Büttner and Julian Vogel’s Soldiers of Light (Soldaten des Lichts) offers a disturbing – and, to a certain extent, clinical – case study of the intricate equation formed by the interwoven variables of politics, religion, the neoliberal economic system, and the media industries. Büttner and Vogel turn their camera on David – a YouTube influencer known as Mr. Raw who, as his pseudonym suggests, promotes a raw vegan diet and, like many in his field, sells supplements, shares healthy lifestyle tips, and offers coaching. However, from the very beginning of the film, the filmmakers make it clear what ideologies and beliefs David truly stands for, deliberately refraining from building their narrative around shock value. Under the guise of his flourishing business – his social media channels and the raw vegan restaurant he operates in Frankfurt – David's true mission is to spread the ideology of the Königreich Deutschland (KRD), a self-proclaimed pseudo-state that is part of the Reichsbürger (citizens of the reign) movement which doesn't recognize the Federal Republic of Germany.

While the historical and political stance of this cult-like community is still largely perceived as alarming within the context of Germany, figures like David have become familiar – and, for this very reason, ordinary – within our social media environment. Their reach clearly transcends the circles usually referred to as “chronically online”. Trad wives who make millions of dollars on TikTok or Instagram while engaging in covert Mormon propaganda have now been normalized, joked about, turned into memes – with parody and irony creating the illusion that these people exist only within the hyperreality of social media. Soldiers of Light seeks to rupture this comfort zone of simulacra by following its protagonist into the “real world” – an impossible endeavour that seems contradictory in itself, since David is always on camera: first through Büttner and Vogel’s lens, and at times through a doubled framing, as we see him filming himself.

While Büttner’s status as David’s childhood friend – implying a relationship of trust between them, though one can’t help but wish this were explored further – grants the filmmakers access to situations others likely wouldn’t have reached; David’s self remains, at all times, filtered, mediated, and performed. Nevertheless, the filmmakers appear to accept this impossibility, willingly embracing the way David stages his persona, observing him patiently – attentive to the possibility of a breach of truth in a conversation, a word, a gaze, or a gesture. Remaining curious yet detached could surely lead some viewers to think that the filmmakers are not being judgmental enough towards David and his fellow “Reichsbürger”. It’s David’s infuriatingly extroverted, larger-than-life personality – despite being contradictory to the core – along with his unwavering confidence in his beliefs and his almost pathological capacity for inventing his own truth, that leave little to no room for any kind of judgment.

His views are as jumbled as the fruit and veggie smoothies he prepares – ranging from Holocaust denial and flat-Earth theories to conspiracies about satanic world leaders and a mysterious evil force named “Darkness”. And yet, David wears all criticisms and backlash like a badge of honour, triggering in us, the audience, a sense of bewilderment toward this vegan-washing, money-obsessed guru who, despite clearly being of mixed-race descent, defends a supremacist ideology. Throughout the film, there are only a few moments when the dynamic between David and the filmmakers subtly shifts or falters – especially when we hear one of them, likely Büttner, openly challenge him by saying he doesn’t believe in his claims, or when David briefly opens up about the racism he has experienced, revealing a fleeting moment of fragility and honesty that we won’t see from him again.

Alongside David, we also meet other seemingly important members of the group – such as Peter, who calls himself the King of the KRD and makes ludicrous claims about healing people through the power of “probability change” and quantum physics, or Sananda, who, ticking all the boxes of a caricatured spiritual healer, believes that 87% of humans are “artificial beings”. If these people merely gathered to indulge in their shared delusions about spirituality and politics, one might dismiss them as harmless charlatans. But instead, they epitomize a complex system of production and exploitation – one that operates through social media, the commodification of health and wellness, and a corporatocracy whose more insidious and dispersed forms persist across Western societies. Our body is a temple, people used to say, but nowadays, our bodies have become 7/24 monitored coworking offices where the goal is perfection and efficiency.

Soldiers of Light also explores the flip side of the coin – the victims of this system – through Timo, a troubled man who turns to David in hopes of overcoming severe mental distress. Timo spends his days working in David’s restaurant and participating in his various business ventures, in exchange for the promised guarantee of recovery – barely eating, and taking a cocktail of god-knows-what food supplements. David employs a wide array of pseudo-scientific methods and machines to convince Timo of the treatment’s necessity if he ever wants to rid himself of the “Darkness” that torments him. Even described this way, Timo’s experience within the community feels as if it were pulled straight from a dystopian narrative, but it’s the casualness of the abuse that renders it all the more horrifying and grim. As the film progresses, Timo’s face grows gaunter, his eyes more hollow and expressionless – a reality that appears visible only to us, as David keeps insisting on how good and happy he looks. The blindness and apathy with which Timo has been treated surely make it easier to dislike David and his community. But the relativism with which they casually wrap their “absolute truth” leads our aversion – perhaps even that of the filmmakers – to an impasse, nullifying it in the most frustrating manner, which is probably why the ending feels unresolved. A frustration that – no matter the angle we look from, the stance we take – seems to echo the same content, placid attitude, as if to say: «I understand, but that’s your opinion».