There is one main criticism that’s often levelled at Martin Parr, the 72-year-old photographer whose closeup, colour-saturated images have become synonymous with the iconography of Britain: that he looks down on his working-class subjects with a cruel, satirical eye.

This affectionate tribute of a documentary answers this, partly by its positioning of Parr. Here he is, walking along the pier at New Brighton, or eating a 99 Flake, just like the holidaymakers snapped for his breakthrough 1986 collection, The Last Resort. But director Lee Shulman’s camera does not study Parr’s face with the same merciless ferocity that Parr turned on his own subjects, instead hovering behind his shoulder, looking at wherever he’s looking at.

Some of the more direct attempts to defend Parr’s reputation are unpersuasive. Obviously paid gallery employees are going to say they think the boss is good at putting people at ease. Yet something in the forbearing expressions of these interviewees, as the camera is shoved in their faces, suggests otherwise. Meanwhile, the inclusion of celebrity fan David Walliams only prompts the disquieting inference that Parr’s work might be the art-world equivalent of Little Britain.

And yet the opportunity here to see Parr’s many truly striking images – especially his lesser-seen and touchingly humanist early black-and-white work – leaves the photographer’s legacy in no doubt. He set out to “create an archive about the time that I’ve lived in Britain” and did just that – brusque manner and fabled faux-Parrs notwithstanding.

• In UK and Irish cinemas