Documentary Filmmaking Centers Empathy. So Should Our Critique.
From “Ask the Ethicist” in the New York Times, April 2nd, 2025.
A reader questions the morality of writers who publish romance novels under a pseudonym, primarily a pseudonym of another gender (e.g. a male author publishing his romance novel under a female penname) due to criticism about men writing from women’s perspective and/or to increase book sales.
“The deeper lesson is simply imagination isn’t bound by gender. The putative authority of lived experience—the idea that only certain people have the ability to and right to tell certain stories—shouldn’t be taken at face value. Fiction’s power, for writer’s and readers, lies in the way it allows us to inhabit lives other than our own. Even when the gender ruse is driven by mercenary motives, it forces us to appreciate, once more, the power of empathy.”
—“Can Male Authors Publish Books Under Female Names?”
The Ethicist’s response got me thinking about documentary ethics, and albeit the rules function differently in documentary, it did help me articulate the thought that, I think us on the left have become so obsessed with being morally upright, that we have the correct moral values and moral conscience, we’ve forgotten how to be empathetic first. When a filmmaker, actor, anyone errs, our first response is to strongly condemn, not understand why. For some offenses, I think that’s warranted, but for cases of differing opinions, a different choice of action, it’s more important we as the observer prove our values and credos, than understanding where the other person is coming from. We boost our ego so it’s high enough to smack the other person’s down with enough weight.
I keep thinking about an interaction with someone in a leadership position a part of a documentary ethics group. I’ll keep the individual’s identity private, because the point here isn’t to attack him/her, but to closely evaluate his/her behavior, and how his/her intentions might have been fair, but his/her actions produced a different result. Going forward, I’ll identity this individual as Person A.
A feature of Person A’s reputation was emphasizing how documentary filmmakers should be more mindful when selecting stories to tell of how they might be acting in common good but bringing the story to a larger audience, but digging up the past might be painful for the individuals and community involved, i.e. having to relive those moments, answer questions about it, have it occupy so much headspace for an extended period of time. Empathy. Have empathy and understanding for how our actions as filmmakers might have unintended negative consequences.
Person A then veered off into a discussion of a film, known at this moment as Jihad Rehab (it later was changed to Unredacted), and the controversy surrounding the film that resulted in its removal from the Sundance Film Festival, as well as several of the departures of programmers involved. Person A went described the plot of the film, her disagreements with how the director and producers gained access to the men, and how the men were or were not given a voice in their final portrayal in the film. Person A came out strongly against the title of the film as dehumanizing and stigmatizing to the men. Person A was deeply critical of the director’s and producers’ behavior as unethical in every step of the process.
The kicker was Person A began his/her extended “analysis” of Unredacted with “I haven’t seen the film, but . . .” Excuse me? You haven’t seen the film, but are going to tear this film apart and the director’s work apart when you haven’t even seen the film? I questioned the responsibility of that choice. It’s everyone’s right to form an opinion about a film based on hearsay from friends, but it’s irresponsible to treat that opinion with critical weight. If Manohla Dargis wrote a review for the New York’s Times based on the opinion of a best friend, surely, she would be found in negligence of her job? It’s her job as a film critic to watch the film, evaluate it carefully, then write the review. If Alan Sepinwall wrote a television review based on the comments from the Substack message board, surely his editor would never allow it to enter publication? How is it ethical, for someone leading a documentary ethics organization to do any different? Person A, you began your presentation speaking about empathy for documentary participants and training ourselves as filmmakers to see an issue from their perspective, rather than from just our own corner of the world, no matter how well-informed. How is the view you just expressed different? You’re condemning this woman’s film based solely on what your friends and colleagues have told you about it, without watching it to validate their words yourself.
It felt incongruent to me to listen to Person A practice so much empathy towards documentary participants but not be bothered to extend it to fellow filmmakers. It struck me as alarming that the documentary film industry would be so quick to condemn its community members especially when so many of them are women, especially when we live in an era where documentary plays an important role in documenting the truth.
One of the aspects of documentary I appreciate most is how documentary filmmakers prioritize being helpful, considerate, and supportive to one another. It’s a stereotype that documentary filmmakers are congenial towards one another, while fiction filmmakers are self-absorbed, only cozying up to whomever can get their next film off the ground, but a dynamic I have somewhat experienced myself. At film festival social events, the documentary folks ask about each other’s work, but also one another’s well-being, genuinely caring for each other and wanting to offer personal and professional support. The discussions with fiction filmmakers primarily revolve their own work and complimenting the projects they’re involved in. Once again, these interactions are underpinned with thoughtfulness and compassion for others in the world. That’s why it both makes me angry, and I find it hypocritical to read reviews and think pieces from filmmakers and leaders tearing down others work with no evidence that they’ve bothered to exercise any understanding of why the filmmaker made a choice they made or what circumstances could have existed that lead to that choice.
Let’s say a documentary filmmaker did make a mistake, or maybe you believe the filmmakers behind Unredacted did behave unethically. What does it say about an industry that claims to be built on understanding, community, and learning that our first response is to condemn? To see the wrong and put out statements with a giant red arrow towards a director’s perceived sin? How did strong condemnation become our default response instead of attempting to gain clarity about where the difference and conflict lies? Because it gets the way of our ego, our ability to show off that we still stand on the moral high ground?
I don’t think it reflects well upon us as filmmakers, film viewers, or an industry for our default response to be strong criticism and condemnation. People do the best with what they know and what they have, and when they know better, they do better. We’re all learning. Learning is so much of what our films are about—someone’s life, someone’s struggle, about their family, work, journey to America, journey to be happy in their body. It’s a puzzle to me why documentary ethics doesn’t elevate that aspect more in its frameworks and guides.
I believe strongly in documentary ethics, and do not mean this piece as besmirching, belittling, or attempting to minimize the influence of ethical values in our practice. Documentary is so much the better for making strides in allowing participants a greater voice in how their story is told, for creating more equal pay systems to allow people to be paid what they’re worth, and in beginning to rectify the extractive history of documentary in seeing participants as nothing more than a good story on their road to acclaim. Our industry made all those strides because we recognized we can and should do better. There are pathways to treating our participants and our crew more equitably and fairly. I’m asking we extend the same consideration to our fellow directors, producers, and crew members.
Does anyone make a film with the intention, primary intention, of marking in the public record that they were right about an issue or a topic, that they’re on the right side of history? Or do we make films because we want to share a particular story with the world because it spoke to us in such a way, we want others to have the chance to feel moved by it as well? Or maybe because we wanted to have a better grasp of an issue, and thought others could benefit from that knowledge as well?
