Filmmaker Who Produced Ron Howard’s ‘Rebuilding Paradise’ Says Her House and Work All Burned Down in the Palisades Fire

Documentarian Tracy Droz Tragos has plenty of experience with California wildfires. 

Later on, it was just a short while after the Camp Fire in November 2018, which occurred in Butte County, that she found herself on the ground with a camera. This was as Paradise’s community was attempting to rebuild following the disaster. She captured footage for Ron Howard’s 2020 National Geographic movie titled Rebuilding Paradise. She spent time with people who had watched their possessions turn to ash; she documented their sorrow as they grappled with uncertainty about where they would live or if they’d ever receive any FEMA funds.

On Wednesday, she became one of her subjects.

At noon today, we got word from a neighbor who’d traveled quite a distance to check on the situation: Our home no longer exists. All that was inside it is now missing.

The evening prior, Droz Tragos along with her husband, their teenage child, and two pets were outside their Pacific Palisades residence, observing the fire approaching them. Recalling her experiences of evacuations in Paradise, Droz Tragos understood that hesitation could lead to being trapped on roads and losing lives, so they quickly made a decision.

They failed to collect any items, not even a pair of socks for her spouse; instead, they simply climbed into their vehicle and departed.

On Wednesday evening, Droz Tragos expressed surprise from an Airbnb close to her in-laws’ house in Santa Barbara, where they had stayed following a night spent at a friend’s place. It seemed to her that this was just a rehearsal, and she couldn’t fathom why.”

“You wouldn’t think it would happen to you,” she added.

On Wednesday morning, there was a period of doubt mixed with faint optimism. It was possible that the fire had bypassed their house entirely or only damaged part of it. For a brief moment, Droz Tragos considered using her media pass to return and check the situation herself; she even grabbed her sister-in-law’s teacher ID for the task. However, their neighbor decided to investigate instead and reported that their house had been reduced to nothing but ruins, as were many others in the neighborhood. The home of Droz Tragos’ 79-year-old mother, located approximately 10 minutes away, was also completely destroyed by fire.

She stated, ‘An entire community, completely erased from existence.’ It’s not just your home that’s affected, but also your neighbor’s house. The park you used to stroll through under the tree canopy is gone too. So is the spot where you used to grab coffee. Your child’s school, all of it.

Her involvement as a producer on the show titled “Rebuilding Paradise” has provided her with an unforeseen area of knowledge: She was aware to supply N95 masks and multiple rolls of toilet paper.

She chuckled as she remembered her neighbors asking, ‘What’s with the toilet paper?’ She replied, ‘Just take my word for it, there might come a time when you’re short on restroom supplies, and trust me, you’ll be grateful you have some toilet paper.’

Droz Tragos gained significant recognition for her 2014 Sundance-winning documentary titled “Rich Hill.” Co-directed with her cousin, Andrew Droz Palermo, the film delves into the lives of three working-class high school students residing in a small town in Missouri. Upon its release, it garnered widespread acclaim and was widely recognized as a critical sensation.

The filmmaker was currently engaged in multiple upcoming projects and recently transferred all her footage stored on hard drives, as well as her gear, to her mother’s home.

She explained, “Until a short while back, I kept everything securely in a safe-deposit box. However, I decided to cut down on expenses by saving the $80 I was spending monthly on a storage unit in Culver City, and instead store my belongings at my mother’s house.

While the Palisades wildfire continues to rage near Los Angeles, Droz Tragos’ tale underscores a deeper, more poignant aspect of this disaster that transcends celebrity social media updates.

The segment influencing a neighborhood often referred to by locals as the “mobile home park” area, although it remains a solidly middle-class community, far from the luxurious mansions on James Woods’ cliffside. It encompasses the deeply personal and human nature of a catastrophe that transcends political debates and even warnings about environmental policies.

The pain that climate disasters can bring, the gritty particles of a life they vanish.

The part in which a person sees their lives stolen from the sky by an unseen Biblical force.

And not just for one person — for an entire, lived-in, ordinary place.

Droz Tragos commented, ‘Many view Pacific Palisades as upscale, but there’s a significant section that’s quite different.’ In the background, dogs were barking, and her daughter was expressing her frustration about not having more clothes on at the moment. She continued, ‘It’s diverse in terms of generations. The high school is an amazing environment where my child can attend classes and interact with students from various backgrounds.’

I exclaimed, “Yet it’s vanished, the library, the grocery store – all gone. The heart of our community, the venues that bring us together, they’re nowhere to be found. Even the unique 4th of July parade spot… poof, it’s disappeared.

A hint of irony laced her words. “There used to be a sign in the barbershop that said, ‘If you’re wealthy, you reside in Beverly Hills; if you’re well-known, you dwell in Malibu; and if you’re fortunate, you live in Pacific Palisades.’

According to her, the idea of a post-fire recovery seems appealing. However, Droz Tragos, from what she’s learned on Rebuilding Paradise, understands that it’s not as straightforward as it sounds. She questioned, “Is it truly desirable to return and be constantly reminded of the trauma?

On Wednesday evening, my hours were filled with moments tainted by what-ifs. A hard drive I should’ve backed up haunts me still. My daughter’s twin pet frogs, who had seen a lifetime but whom we couldn’t retrieve in time, weigh heavily on my heart. “I could drown myself in regrets,” I mused, “But then I remember, ‘Perhaps if we’d returned, we might not have made it out alive.’

For the next fortnight, my insurance is covering my stay at an Airbnb. Beyond that, I’m unsure of my destination. I’m currently mulling over what belongings I should pack with me, as I navigate through this experience.

She expressed her desire for us to treat one another with kindness, share more heartfelt tales rather than sensational ones. Unfortunately, she’s unsure when she’ll be able to share those stories again as all her work seems to be lost. However, she hopes others will have the opportunity to do so.

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2025-01-09 07:56