As a documentary filmmaker with years of experience under my belt, I can confidently say that each of these directors has a unique perspective and approach to storytelling. However, if I were to choose one 2024 documentary not represented at this table that truly resonated with me, it would be “Union”.
Six distinguished documentary filmmakers from the year 2024 came together for THR’s annual roundtable discussion in late November.
There were two seasoned American documentary filmmakers: R.J. Cutler, known for directing Netflix’s “Martha,” a deep dive into Martha Stewart that explores the cost of chasing perfection, and Disney’s “Elton John: Never Too Late,” which compares Elton John’s rise to fame with his farewell tour (David Furnish co-directed this one); and Matt Tyrnauer, who directed Greenwich Films’ “Carville: Winning Is Everything, Stupid,” a biographical piece about James Carville, the renowned Democratic strategist. Additionally, there was Ian Bonhôte, a Swiss national, whose third documentary, which he co-directed with Peter Ettedgui, is Warner Bros.’ “Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story.” This film takes a closer look at the life, career, and unfortunate accident of the titular beloved movie star, twenty years after his demise.
As a gamer, I was fortunate to be in the company of three talented directors who each brought their unique perspectives to their debut full-length documentaries. Carla Gutiérrez, a seasoned film editor, showcased Amazon/MGM’s Frida, offering an unconventional view into the life of Mexican artist Frida Kahlo, a woman whose short and tumultuous life was marked by greatness. Emily Kassie guided us through Nat Geo’s Sugarcane, unearthing the hidden history of injustices at a Canadian residential school for Native Americans. She collaborated with Julian Brave NoiseCat on this powerful project. Lastly, Natalie Rae and Angela Patton co-directed Netflix’s Daughters, a documentary that shone light on a program designed to help incarcerated men reconnect with their daughters through dance.
The group of six individuals delved into their journeys towards creating nonfiction works, their sense of obligation towards subjects who contribute to these projects, speculated on how Donald Trump’s potential re-election might affect the documentary community, and discussed other related topics.
Let’s discuss how you got into making non-fiction films before we delve into your projects for 2024. What led you to this field initially?
R.J. CUTLER Initially, my professional journey began in theater direction; however, I had a strong feeling that my path would lead me to nonfiction work. The allure of documentaries such as ‘Don’t Look Back,’ ‘Harlan County, USA,’ and the Rolling Stones film ‘Gimme Shelter’ was undeniable. In 1992, I felt compelled by an idea that someone should capture the Clinton campaign on film. The resulting documentary, ‘The War Room,’ where I served as a producer, proved to be an exceptional journey, especially since I was able to learn from the greats D.A. Pennebaker and Chris Hegedus.
EMILY KASSIE At 14, I created my first documentary which served as a Public Service Announcement in Canada. During college, I produced a documentary that earned me a Student Academy Award. Afterwards, I entered newsrooms, producing documentaries, crafting immersive multimedia content, and doing photojournalism on conflicts worldwide. My fascination lies with individuals who find themselves in the midst of geopolitical disputes and enduring atrocities. This theme has consistently guided my professional journey.
MATT TYRNAUER: Previously, I worked as a writer for Vanity Fair, producing articles that were approximately 10,000 words long. Over time, I came to view these pieces as akin to documentaries. My work was significantly impacted by the Maysles’ style of observational filmmaking, which involves capturing events without direct involvement in the story, and I sought to emulate that approach in my writing. I pondered, “Perhaps documentary filmmaking could be my next step if I could find a way to fund a movie.” In my search for an intriguing subject, I discovered Valentino Garavani, a renowned fashion designer. It struck me that his story had never been told before, so I decided to narrate it in Valentino: The Last Emperor.
CARLA GUTIÉRREZ During my final year at college, I enrolled in a course on experimental video. In this class, I encountered a movie titled “Fear and Learning in Hoover Elementary“, which focused on a proposed California law mandating teachers to reveal their undocumented students. Having limited exposure to films while growing up in Peru, this production opened my eyes to the potential of the medium. Motivated by this revelation, I pursued film school and joined Stanford’s documentary program with aspirations of becoming a filmmaker. However, my passion soon shifted towards editing, a field I have been actively working in for over two decades now.
IAN BONHÔTE I was a child actor …
KASSIE Me too! But I don’t tell anyone.
BONHÔTE Really?
KASSIE Yeah. It was a really joyful part of my childhood.
BACKSTORY As a lively child brought up by a single parent, I had to find an outlet for my energy at an early age, which led me to start at the tender age of 7. By the time I turned 17, I’d already been in numerous plays and ventured into on-screen acting – but fame was scarce for someone from Switzerland. My passion for filmmaking blossomed during my stay in Venezuela. My background in music and the LGBTQ+ community in Switzerland paved the way for music videos, and at 23, I founded a company that eventually became a significant force in documentaries and fiction. Later, I crossed paths with Peter Ettedgui, my creative companion, and together we directed our first documentary about Alexander McQueen.
NATALIE RAE At the age of six, I returned home from school deeply troubled by a topic we had learned – endangered species – and asked my father, “Why isn’t everyone discussing this issue?” He suggested that if I was serious about making a difference, I could create something known as a documentary. With his assistance, I made my first film. As I entered my twenties, I developed a strong interest in Public Service Announcements (PSAs). If I could stir emotions within 30 or 60 seconds and reach millions within a few days, that was potent. This tool became an addiction that consumed me for years.
Let’s discuss the origins of your 2024 projects.
Here’s another way of expressing it: My dear friend shared a TED Talk by Angela Patton with me, remarking that her message resonated with my views: “This woman is echoing your sentiments – ‘Wisdom dwells within young women’ and ‘the world should listen to them.’ ” I found it inspiring, contacted Angela, and we ended up meeting over coffee. She mentioned that there were hundreds of directors vying for her attention. However, she now acknowledges that I was the first to recognize this narrative as one about young Black women’s leadership, rather than recidivism or the prison system. Consequently, we decided to collaborate on this project together.
In our second movie, titled Rising Phoenix, which focuses on the Paralympic movement, we delved into the realm of disability. This sparked an unexpected contact from one of our archive producers to Matt Reeve [one of Christopher’s sons] via LinkedIn. Over the years, the family had turned down numerous offers to create a documentary. However, with the approaching 20th anniversary of Chris’ passing, they felt prepared to take on the project.
2021 saw an article in The New York Times detailing the unearthed unmarked graves at a Canadian Indian residential school site. These schools, operating for over 150 years across Canada and the US, forcefully removed Indigenous children from their families to assimilate them in institutions, often run by the Catholic Church. Despite my extensive experience reporting on global atrocities, this story felt deeply personal as it was about my home country. Innerly stirred, I reached out to my friend Julian Brave NoiseCat, a renowned writer on Indigenous life in North America whom I had worked with a decade prior. He agreed to consider our collaboration, hoping for our joint efforts.
That very day, I embarked on a quest to discover a community conducting a search – crafting a story around a search seemed fitting. I stumbled upon an article about the Williams Lake First Nation in British Columbia, and impulsively emailed their chief, Willie Sellars. To my surprise, he returned my call and said, “It seems the Creator has impeccable timing. Yesterday, our council declared, ‘We need someone to chronicle this search.'” Thus, I hopped onto a Zoom meeting with the council, gathered my equipment, booked a flight to Williams Lake, and within two weeks was prepared to embark. Then, Julian contacted me back, “Hey, I’m open to collaborating with you.” I excitedly replied, “That’s fantastic, Jules. I’ll be documenting this search at St. Joseph’s Mission school near Williams Lake.” He fell quiet before exclaiming, “That’s astonishing! Did you know that was the very school my family attended? And there’s a tale circulating that after my father was born, he was placed in a nearby dumpster.” It felt as if it were meant to be that we should work on this journey together.
At age 19, I first encountered Frida Kahlo while avoiding college work by browsing art books at our university library. One fateful day, I flipped open a book on Latin American art and was captivated by one of her paintings – a self-portrait standing between the U.S. and Mexico, symbolizing the complex emotions she felt towards America. As a young immigrant myself, this painting resonated deeply with me, mirroring my own feelings about adapting to this sometimes uninviting new environment.
Years passed, and I suffered a miscarriage. It struck me as unusual that women seldom discuss such personal matters. Perhaps one reason Frida Kahlo resonates so strongly as a symbol of feminine strength is her willingness to do so. I found solace in one of her paintings depicting her post-miscarriage, showing her body unapologetically. Her narrative has been retold numerous times, often by historians, but I wished the audience could immerse themselves in her emotional depths as I had when first viewing that painting. This marked the start of my journey.
TYRNAUER I recall watching The War Room. It was terrific! Later, one of my initial tasks at Vanity Fair involved covering the ’92 Clinton campaign, which is how I met Carville. Thirty years later, a friend of Carville’s and mine contacted me, asking, “What do you think about a documentary on Carville? Do you know someone who could direct it?” I responded, “Sure, that sounds great.” The War Room marked the start of Carville’s fame. He struggled professionally until his mid-40s, but then became a household name, partly due to the film. However, that was decades ago. The initial phase of his post-Clinton-victory notoriety stemmed from his unusual marital fame [Carville is married to Republican strategist Mary Matalin]; this has since faded from public consciousness, but it was quite significant at the time. Then, the 2024 election cycle took an unexpected turn, and Carville became involved in the process while I was filming. He started criticizing Biden for being too old to run for president; no one else in the party was saying this at the time, and it eventually became the focus of the documentary.
Originally, I had arranged for a dinner with a friend, who then informed me that Martha Stewart would be joining us. Although I wasn’t familiar with Martha and knew little about her, I responded positively. During our meal, I gained insight into her life and recognized the significance of her journey as an emblem of 20th-century and early 21st-century American womanhood, symbolizing resilience and innovation. As it turned out, she was eager to share her story, so we continued on. When speaking became challenging for her, she instead shared personal letters to her husband, excerpts from prison diaries, or candid footage from the weeks following her conviction and sentencing.
A few months down the line, I receive an invitation for lunch with David Furnish. He shares his idea of creating a film about the closing stages of Elton John’s touring career. Elton has chosen to hang up his touring boots after six decades, preferring instead to devote his remaining years to his family. David asks for my opinion, to which I reply, “It sounds heartwarmingly poignant.” I’ve often pondered that a compelling movie could be made about the initial five years of Elton’s career. This was a time when he filled the void left by The Beatles’ breakup, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin’s deaths, and the uncertainty in rock ‘n’ roll. Elton was an unprecedented force, releasing thirteen albums in just five years, seven of which topped the charts. Remarkably, most of his iconic songs were composed during this period, a time when he was personally unfulfilled. My suggestion was to structure the final months as the backbone, the first five years as the nervous system, and then let it all converge harmoniously.
Cameras can alter people’s behavior. What did you do on these projects to mitigate that?
KASSIE The history of documentaries portraying indigenous lives has been problematic, with the first “documentary” being Nanook of the North, which was patronizing and unrealistic about Inuit in northern Canada. Director Robert Flaherty aimed to convey a specific image of these people and their self-governing abilities, but he also fathered children there and abandoned them. We felt it necessary to distance ourselves from this legacy when making our film. Instead of sitting down with them to extract information, we chose the vérité style, living alongside them and earning their trust over an extended period (160 days spread over two and a half years). Additionally, for artistic reasons, we opted to use prime lenses, which required us to physically move closer instead of zooming in. This necessitated building trust, as being that close demands it.
A phrase that doesn’t fully capture our situation is “fly on the wall,” because unlike flies on walls, we are human beings in a social setting, and as such, we form relationships. To maintain these relationships, trust must be built, and this can only be achieved by being reliable and trustworthy. There’s no other option.
Our Movie This film revolves around a five-hour incident where an extraordinary occurrence unfolds before you. A young girl’s concept was transformed into a letter, which moved the heart of a sheriff to grant permission for a group of girls to pass through security and dance with their fathers within the prison. The responsibility of capturing this dance – this urban tale that had scarcely occurred on a few occasions – was immense.
We wanted to shoot it on 16-millimeter: two cameras, medium lenses, being really careful about our space and intimacy with the families and knowing we’d miss moments while reloading. Now that I see the impact that the film’s making, I think that having that dance shot on celluloid, having those moments of texture and light captured in that way, makes it what it is. When the girls walk down that hallway and it’s a bit overexposed and out of focus, and they’re coming in and the fathers are waiting, after the whole film the girls had been waiting? This moment of the girls now having that agency to come toward their fathers was so powerful. Cambio [Fernandez], my cinematographer, was crying so hard that he was like, “My iris is full of tears. I have no idea if anything will be in focus, but I pray to God it is.” We got the footage back, and it was in focus.
Some of your subjects weren’t around to see your films. For those whose subjects were, at what point did you allow them to see what you’d been doing? And how much do you care about the way they feel about what you’ve done?
TYRNAUER (PARAPHRASED) Carville didn’t request any edits to the film. Instead, he watched it during its debut at Telluride, which is unusual because typically people express curiosity and ask for cuts, sometimes even as a condition in contracts. This can be challenging for journalists like me because it might compromise the integrity of the work. However, when Carville saw it, he was deeply moved and was seen sobbing uncontrollably, indicating his appreciation for the film. On the other hand, while I wrote stories about people at Vanity Fair, it wasn’t unusual for those individuals to dislike the story that was published about them. In fact, I wrote two different stories featuring Martha Stewart – she adored one and detested the other.
Cutler Yet, she’s quite elusive when she dislikes something! [Editor’s note: This is a light-hearted allusion to Stewart expressing criticism about certain elements in Cutler’s documentary.]
TYRNAUER I don’t aim to upset anyone, but if someone disagrees with my actions, I find it largely unimportant.
CUTLER I hold Matt in high esteem, but we have distinct methods. In my view, the narrative should be the subject’s, not mine. They’ve entrusted me with their story, and near its conclusion, I feel it’s my responsibility to reveal it to them and listen to their thoughts. I took The World According to Dick Cheney to Wyoming and showed it to Dick Cheney, along with his wife Lynne and daughter Liz, with a variety of firearms likely present in the house. However, following the viewing, we had an incredibly intriguing discussion. After approximately an hour, he said, “R.J. was entrusted to create his film. I would have made a different one. This is the film he made. Let’s discuss something else.
I understand that journalists have unique methods, and I acknowledge their differences. However, my perspective is not that of a journalist, but rather a filmmaker’s. Martha has shown a variety of reactions, even her criticisms have been beneficial as they spark interest in the film. Yet, she’s also appeared on television recently stating, “It wasn’t as bad as I thought.” It’s crucial to approach this situation with understanding, recognizing that being the subject of a film can elicit very personal responses. Martha recently contacted me, expressing her desire to know everyone involved in the production, intending to send them a book. Elton initially said, “I’m so fat!” (laughs), which was his initial reaction upon seeing it. Later, during the first screening in Toronto, he reacted similarly to Carville’s, causing us to delay the Q&A by 10 minutes.
KASSIE Working on the film Sugarcane meant feeling an immense sense of duty as we were correcting historical accounts that involved the suffering of hundreds of people who endured inhumane abuse. This was a community that had been exploited and oppressed systematically. As a non-Indigenous filmmaker, it was crucial to understand my role towards these people and having Julian, a key figure in the film, as my creative partner. Prior to submitting the film to Sundance, we wanted to ensure that the community, especially our participants and council, were fully informed about our production. It was essential they recognized themselves in what we had created. Fortunately, they felt their voices were acknowledged and represented.
GUTIÉRREZ Working with a deceased figure like Frida can present some challenges. There’s an extensive community who are deeply connected to her, and we wanted to be mindful of their feelings. Some advised us against labeling her as a “feminist,” as the term wasn’t in use during Frida’s lifetime.
When creating a documentary about an individual who has departed, you engage in conversations with those who were intimately involved with the subject during their lifetime. In essence, you’re preserving and sharing not only their story but also pieces of the lives of these interviewees as well.
Do you think that Donald Trump’s re-election will have an effect on the documentary world?
It’s my fervent hope it doesn’t come to pass, but in these times, artists, journalists, and narrators hold significant importance. Therefore, I implore those with influence, such as streaming platforms, to show bravery in ensuring their voices are amplified.
GUTIÉRREZ I’m quite concerned about the future of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) and PBS, as well as the potential shutting down of avenues that have provided opportunities for filmmakers who don’t always conform to market demands.
In today’s world, dominated by brief social media content, there is a strong desire for in-depth storytelling. Podcasts can run for three hours, while people eagerly consume limited series for seven hours. If traditional newspapers, which are becoming less common, are working together ahead of time, who will possess the platform and capability to deliver complex, longform narratives? Documentary filmmakers will likely be the ones to do so, with the aim of sharing these stories with a wider audience.
CUTLER From the start, we’ve had to work hard. The first words D.A. Pennebaker ever said to me were, “If you want to master documentary filmmaking, you should know this: It’s like being a bank robber – keep it simple and always be prepared for a quick escape.
Finally, please recommend one great 2024 documentary not represented at this table …
KASSIE Black Box Diaries. I was blown away by Shiori Ito’s courage.
GUTIÉRREZ No Other Land. It’s a necessary watch.
CUTLER I love Black Box Diaries as well.
BONHÔTE Witches, which explores menopause. As a middle-aged man, it taught me a lot.
RAE’s Hollywoodgate truly shines. Achieving the trust of the Taliban, and working with them for almost an entire year, is nothing short of remarkable.
TYRNAUER I’m going with Black Box Diaries and Hollywoodgate. Those were extraordinary.
Due to the imitators, here’s another term I’ll use: Labor Union. It offers valuable insights into labor rights, but Amazon has made it challenging to observe its workings.
This tale was initially published in a special December edition of The Hollywood Reporter’s magazine. If you’d like to get the magazine, you can subscribe by clicking here.
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2024-12-06 17:26