A new documentary premiering at the Tribeca Film Festival explores the lives of personal chefs who worked for some of the world’s most feared authoritarian leaders, offering a rare perspective on the intersection of power, privilege and survival inside dictatorial regimes.

“How to Feed a Dictator,” directed by filmmaker Andrew Neel and based on a 2020 book by Polish journalist Witold Szabłowski, examines the experiences of five chefs who prepared meals for leaders including Idi Amin, Saddam Hussein, Pol Pot and Kim Jong-il. Through their accounts, the 95-minute documentary investigates how ordinary professions can become intertwined with systems of repression and political violence.

The film focuses on individuals who occupied unusual positions within authoritarian governments. While not political figures themselves, the chefs enjoyed close access to rulers whose decisions shaped the lives of millions. Their stories reveal both the privileges and risks associated with serving at the highest levels of power.

Neel said the project was partly inspired by the contrast between the familiarity of food and the extraordinary circumstances surrounding the men who consumed it.

According to the director, everyday activities such as eating take on a different significance within authoritarian systems. Meals become not only private moments but also expressions of power, status and control, creating unique pressures for those responsible for preparing them.

The documentary presents a range of experiences and attitudes among its subjects. Some continue to express admiration for the leaders they served, while others describe deep personal regret over their involvement.

One of the most striking accounts comes from Keo Samoun, who worked for Cambodian leader Pol Pot. The film depicts her visiting his gravesite and presenting offerings of food, including fish, fruit and rice. According to the documentary, she continues to regard Pol Pot with reverence years after his death.

The perspective contrasts sharply with that of Italian pizza maker Ermanno Furlanis, who was recruited to prepare pizzas for North Korean leader Kim Jong-il. Furlanis describes an environment characterized by intense surveillance and strict oversight.

According to his account, government officials closely monitored his activities, controlled his travel documents and supervised aspects of food preparation. One incident recalled in the film involved an official entering the kitchen to inspect the placement of olives on a pizza intended for Kim.

The documentary suggests that such episodes reflected broader systems of control operating within authoritarian states, where even routine tasks could become subject to political scrutiny.

Among the film’s participants, Ugandan chef Charles Otonde Odera provides one of the most detailed reflections on the personal compromises involved in serving a dictator. Odera worked for former Ugandan ruler Idi Amin during a period marked by political repression and widespread human rights abuses.

He describes how his appointment dramatically transformed his life. According to his account, he moved from poverty into a position of significant privilege, receiving financial benefits and access to a lifestyle unavailable to most citizens.

The film portrays this transformation as emblematic of a broader dynamic in which authoritarian governments rewarded loyalty and service with material advantages. For many individuals, those benefits created incentives to overlook or ignore the actions of the regimes they served.

Neel said that the notion of a “great job” emerged repeatedly throughout his conversations with former regime insiders. The director noted that personal rewards often played a central role in how individuals justified their participation in authoritarian systems.

The documentary cites examples of substantial perks enjoyed by those working close to political leaders. According to Neel, Saddam Hussein’s chef received a new vehicle annually as part of his position.

Yet the film also examines the psychological consequences of such arrangements. For Odera, the turning point came after the death of Kay Amin, one of Idi Amin’s wives. According to the documentary, reports and rumors surrounding her death prompted him to reconsider the value of the privileges he had received.

Odera recalls reaching a point where he preferred the financial hardships of his earlier life to the moral burden associated with serving the regime. His testimony forms one of the documentary’s clearest explorations of personal conflict and ethical compromise.

The film also devotes significant attention to the chef who served Saddam Hussein. Unlike other participants, the former Iraqi leader’s cook appears anonymously, speaking under a pseudonym and presented visually as a black silhouette.

Neel said extensive measures were taken to protect the individual’s identity. The director explained that concerns centered not on Saddam Hussein’s remaining associates but on potential hostility from others who might object to the chef’s continued expressions of loyalty toward the former Iraqi president.

According to the documentary, the chef remains emotionally attached to Saddam Hussein and speaks about his execution in deeply personal terms. The film portrays this loyalty as evidence of the lasting psychological impact that proximity to power can exert on individuals, even years after a regime has collapsed.

Neel said the decision to conceal the chef’s appearance was also intended to symbolize the personal costs associated with his experience. The visual presentation, he said, reflected the idea that the individual’s former relationship with Saddam had effectively separated him from normal public life.

Throughout the documentary, the chefs’ accounts raise broader questions about responsibility within authoritarian systems. Rather than focusing solely on political leaders, the film examines the roles played by ordinary people who help sustain governments through their daily work.

The documentary suggests that dictators rely not only on military, political and security structures but also on countless individuals performing routine functions. Chefs, drivers, aides and other staff members become part of the machinery that enables authoritarian leaders to maintain their lifestyles and authority.

Neel said this concept formed the central theme of the project. The film argues that understanding authoritarian rule requires examining not only the actions of dictators themselves but also the choices made by those around them.

The director briefly considered including a segment involving a chef who had worked for former U.S. President Donald Trump before his election. However, Neel said the individual ultimately declined to participate after Trump entered politics.

According to Neel, the chef stopped responding to requests for interviews, a development the director attributed to concerns about professional consequences.

While Neel explicitly stated that Trump is not a dictator, he said the abandoned interview highlighted one of the documentary’s recurring themes: the extent to which individuals may remain silent or avoid criticism when professional opportunities and personal interests are at stake.

By examining the experiences of chefs who operated behind the scenes of some of the twentieth century’s most notorious regimes, “How to Feed a Dictator” offers a portrait of how power functions through everyday relationships, and how ordinary people navigate the moral complexities of serving extraordinary leaders.

Three women who helped secure the conviction of a London man for historic sexual offences say the bond they formed during the legal process has become central to their recovery, as growing numbers of survivors of sexual violence choose to waive anonymity and speak publicly about their experiences.

Laura Hughes, Lauren Preston and Mary Sharp, now in their 40s and 50s, describe themselves collectively as “the girls,” a term they say reflects the close emotional support network that emerged after years of trauma connected to the same abuser, Martin Butler.

The women, who maintain regular contact through a WhatsApp group called Sister Solidarity, said their friendship developed after Butler was convicted for offences committed decades earlier.Martin Butler is serving a lengthy prison sentence after being convicted of the rape and buggery of Mary Sharp in 1988.

During the prosecution, Hughes and Preston provided evidence about separate abuse they said they experienced from Butler during the 1990s. Butler was later convicted in another trial involving the historic rape of an unidentified teenage victim.According to the women, Butler operated within the same community in Ruislip, where Hughes and Preston grew up and attended school together.

Sharp also lived in the area, although she did not know the other two women at the time.The women said Butler, who was significantly older than Hughes and Preston when they were teenagers, cultivated influence over vulnerable young people through parties involving alcohol and drugs at his apartment.

In 2023, the women met for the first time after Butler’s conviction in the case involving Sharp. Their decision to speak publicly later drew wider attention and became the basis for a documentary examining the long-term effects of abuse and the role of survivor solidarity.

The women’s experiences come amid broader public discussion around sexual violence and survivor testimony. In recent years, more survivors have chosen to identify themselves publicly, arguing that open discussion can challenge stigma surrounding rape cases.

Gisèle Pelicot, whose case in France drew international attention after she publicly discussed repeated drug-facilitated sexual assaults, said she hoped removing anonymity would help shift social attitudes around shame and victimhood.

Hughes, Preston and Sharp said that while Butler’s conviction represented a significant moment, the process of recovery remained difficult and uneven. All three described ongoing emotional effects linked to the abuse and the court proceedings.

“We would never allow a man to use the word ‘girls’ about us, but we use it with each other,” Hughes said. “We all have the same demon, the same monster, but we are rising together.”

The women said public exposure and revisiting traumatic experiences during legal proceedings carried emotional costs. Preston said that speaking publicly initially intensified anxiety and distress.“For about a year, I went backwards,” she said.

“I started to really suffer from anxiety.”Sharp said the psychological effects of the abuse and subsequent legal process continue to surface periodically despite the support system the women have built together.“We are not out of the woods,” Sharp said.

“I do still have wobbly moments.”Mental health specialists and victim support groups have long noted that recovery from sexual violence can involve prolonged psychological impacts, even after successful prosecutions.

Survivors may continue to experience anxiety, trauma responses and emotional distress long after court proceedings conclude.The three women said mutual support has become one of the most important factors in rebuilding confidence and stability.“I feel like I have freed my childhood self,” Hughes said.

“I can look myself in the eye now, almost as if I have become my own parent.”She added that trauma remained a permanent part of her life experience but said shared understanding among the women had changed how she copes with it.“Someone said that pain is a skin you can’t take off,” Hughes said.

“I feel that’s true with me and my trauma. But having the girls helps me cope with living in that skin and getting stronger within it.”Preston said the court proceedings and subsequent documentary project altered how she viewed herself publicly and privately.

“Everything that has happened, the court case, the documentary, it does make me hold my head up higher,” she said. “I couldn’t have done any of this by myself.

The girls give me strength.”Sharp described the friendship as an enduring emotional responsibility shared among the three women.

“I feel stronger now,” she said. “I wouldn’t do anything to upset my girls. They are part of me now.”