YDA Winner Clément Lefer gets lost in the post

What does it mean to you to win a YDA?

A lot, honestly. YDA sits at a specific intersection I care about, cinematic storytelling meeting the commercial world. I don't see documentary and advertising as opposite territories, and this award is one of the few places where that overlap is recognised as valid. Being noticed here means the way I work, patient, observational, trusting silence, has a place in brand storytelling too. That matters, because it opens doors to collaborators who value craft over noise.

Being noticed here means the way I work, patient, observational, trusting silence, has a place in brand storytelling too.

How did you get into directing?

I originally studied directing alongside advertising photography. Photography taught me composition, light, and how much a single frame can hold. But one image was never enough for me. I wanted time in it, rhythm, sound, presence unfolding.

Directing was the natural next step. From there I spent more than ten years moving between documentary and commercial work, filming across five continents. What ties everything together is the same instinct, find real people and real places, and film them with cinematic precision

What was the story behind making The Missing Post Office?

The film is set on Awashima Island, where the artist Saya Kubota transformed an abandoned post office into a place people can send letters that will never be delivered. Letters to someone who died. To someone they lost contact with. To an unborn child. To themselves. What drew me in wasn't the installation itself, it was the contradiction at the heart of it. A post office exists to send messages. This one exists because messages can never arrive. That paradox was cinematic before I ever pointed a camera at it.

The film is guided by Katsuhisa Nakata, the 91-year-old former postmaster who voluntarily looked after every letter and welcomed every visitor. He became the emotional heart of the film. He has since passed away, and I've come to feel that through the film he stays present in some way. That, to me, is what cinema is for.

How long was the shoot?

The shoot itself was short, one day on the island. The post office only opens for three hours every second Saturday, so filming had to fit into that window. But the visible part of a project like this is always the smallest part of the work. 

About two months of preparation before, shooting on a remote island has to be organised carefully. Then a month of post. And a year travelling with the film across festivals around the world.

ABOVE: Director Clément Lefer.

What was the most challenging aspect of the project?

Nothing technical. The real challenge was earning trust and becoming invisible. I wanted Nakata-san to forget the camera. I wanted visitors to experience the place as they would if I weren't there. That takes patience and self-restraint, especially the discipline of not intervening.

The real challenge was earning trust and becoming invisible.

What have you learned during the process of making this film?

Patience, mostly. Documentary isn't about finding stories, it's about waiting long enough for stories to reveal themselves. 

The film reinforced my belief that simplicity is almost always stronger than spectacle. And it deepened something in my relationship with Japan that has shaped every project since, including the one I'm finishing now.

How important was the research/planning for this film?

Essential, but not in the way people expect. There were no storyboards. What I needed to understand was the island itself, Japanese culture, local etiquette, Nakata-san's rhythm, Saya Kubota's intention. I wanted to arrive with enough knowledge to disappear during filming. 

Preparation is what allowed me to react to reality rather than direct it. That's the paradox of observational documentary, the more prepared you are, the less you have to do on set.