By Hugh Reynolds
Independent nonfiction filmmaking has long played a key role in social justice and cultural education. These films foster public awareness, bring salience to issues, unify constituencies, and ignite mobilization. In this way, documentary filmmaking can be a powerful tool for eliciting policy change from our elected representatives. In this new age of streaming, nonfiction filmmaking is facing unprecedented challenges, particularly regarding financing and distribution. In this interview, Sara Archambault explores these novel challenges, their underlying causes, and a potential future for documentary film.
Sara Archambault is the Program Director for the Shorenstein Center’s Documentary Film at Harvard Kennedy School, and has extensive experience as a documentary film producer. She has screened her films in festivals across the globe, including Sundance, Tribeca, and Rotterdam. Her recent producing credits include Riotsville, USA (2022), A Decent Home (2022), and Richland (2023). Her newest film THE OFFICIALS was just released two weeks ago through TIME Studios – see it here.
JSEL’s Hugh Reynolds spoke to Ms. Archambault about the state, challenges, and hopes of the documentary and independent film market.
Hugh Reynolds: Broadly speaking, how would you describe the current state of the independent film market?
Sara Archambault: It’s a bit of a troubling time. We typically define independent films as films where the artist generates the idea and maintains creative control, and where the film is financed outside of the large studio system. Sometimes those films get acquired by major studios or distributors along the way, but they always begin with the artists’ inspiration.
Right now, the entire market is one of aversion to risk, and that is a very difficult space for activities like discovery, nurturing new talent, experimentation, or, importantly, speaking truth to power. I work frequently with first time directors. Because those artists are often unknowns, their work can often be hard to raise financing for. In this moment of crisis, the market is not welcoming that kind of risk right now, so artist development is restricted.
On the philanthropic side, places like the Sundance Institute’s Documentary Fund have gone down to one deadline per year. Other kinds of filmmaker philanthropic funds have either shuttered or reduced the amount of support they offer to projects. So financing is limited in terms of both the larger market and the philanthropic space. But urgent stories and artists are not moved by markets. This is a time for artists to be quite fierce—particularly documentary artists.
The “boom times” have gotten many of us accustomed to a different landscape of opportunity, and that has now shifted—the “boom times” have met their bust. Now is a time to be inventive and resourceful in response.
Hugh Reynolds: One thing you mentioned was aversion to risk. Are you specifically referring to financial risk, or social and political risk that might be associated with these projects?
Sara Archambault: A little bit of all of it. Distributors are not championing independent voices as much, and are more interested in algorithmic-driven curation when determining what to produce or acquire.
This game has changed very intensely over the last five to ten years. When Netflix was building its brand, that was a time of large acquisition deals. Streamers were making a splash, wanting to get some of the bigger, more successful titles. They would come to a film festival like Sundance and pay real dollars, seven figures, for a documentary that would have a hard time making that investment back. These films instead would contribute to establishing the brand identity, helping to align distributors or streamers with award-winning content or prestige. They wanted to release cutting edge, exciting content.
After that time of large pay-out acquisitions, they shifted to fewer acquisitions and much more in-house production: producing work under their original label. We still saw some big acquisitions coming out of the festivals, but far fewer. There was tighter control of budgets, and those budgets were shrinking. In general, just a lot more “content” driven by the streamers, but even in that environment documentary projects were getting green-lit. Now, the focus is on subscribers, mass appeal, and volume. Distributors want to reduce churn and avoid offending any sensibilities that may threaten potential audience growth. We’ve already seen some instances where streamers avoid political or controversial content for fear of ruffling feathers or being subject to protest.
Hugh Reynolds: Looking at Amazon and Apple, in terms of large acquisitions, it seems like those two companies specifically are less concerned with making returns on investment. This might make documentaries and independent films potentially attractive to them. However, they would have to weigh the benefits of showing those films against political and cultural risk. These companies wouldn’t want a customer boycotting their companies because they have seemingly taken a position on a polarizing issue.
Sara Archambault: I want to frame the issue a bit differently. Public interest documentary is not popular, but it is extremely important. There are many ways to look at this kind of problem. When the giants are not programming political content, they’re more often driven by financial calculations and making decisions based on their algorithms. They have no business incentive to take on politically or culturally complex film, nor do they have a regulatory one.
However, when it comes to curation itself, I often wonder if the algorithms are a true measure of interest, or if they create self-fulfilling prophecies. If I watch one season of The Bachelor, does that mean that I would never watch 20 Days In Mariupol? No, but the algorithm may determine that to be true. I am a more complex person than the algorithm is making me out to be, and I think reliance on these algorithms erases complexity and choice in a way that troubles me. I’d like to see new options. How could curation play a role in foregrounding public interest documentary? What role could algorithmic or data transparency play in expanding viewer choice? How could I control my algorithm to create room for more discovery? How would experiments like these shift business decisions?
As I said, looking simply at the numbers, public interest documentary is not overwhelmingly popular—we’re the band nerds of the Hollywood film industry—however, in addition to being an incredibly compelling cinematic art form, we provide an essential service to public understanding, public discourse, and democracy. Like it or not, nonfiction media content is being consumed at a much higher rate than at which people are reading. People are making decisions about how they understand the world based on the documentaries (films, podcasts, etc.) they encounter. So in this environment where the tech media giants are pulling away from this work, or simply focusing on its most popular forms (true crime, celebrity docs, etc.), where does that leave us? We may be more entertained, but we will be less informed, and in far less control of our media environments than the early utopian visions of online streaming first promised. And we are left, continuously, in a setting where we need more information from our media ecosystem in order to survive, but our identities as consumers continuously outweigh our identities as citizens. And I’d like to investigate how to incentivize a shift back to citizen.
Hugh Reynolds: There are certainly stories that need to be told, though those stories often do not align with streamers’ monetization goals. Certain kinds of nonfiction works, like true crime, have been pushed by streamers and algorithms at the cost of social justice documentaries. Do independent filmmakers ever feel pressure, financial or otherwise, to make content that may be easier to sell to a streamer, rather than content they feel is more impactful?
Sara Archambault: Yes. When you’re a filmmaker, you’re trying to be a working filmmaker. People have their passion projects, but they’re trying to keep a roof over their heads. Many of the filmmakers I know and work with are working on true crime series, celebrity docs, or other kinds of content that is being green-lit. It’s a different kind of filmmaking in terms of content and deliverables, but it still requires the same kind of research, creativity, and storytelling processes that all films do. Many smart, talented filmmakers are out there making very thoughtful non-fiction work framed within a true crime series or something similar. I want to be careful not to indicate that these are holistically “bad” or unworthy story forms. Putting a value judgment on these genres is not useful, but it’s important to ask: why are we so limited to these forms?. They have become the “Marvel movies” of nonfiction. Too much of one popular thing deadens diversity, creativity, and risk.
But I also want to call out that many filmmakers are continuing to make urgent, social justice films, often while they try to keep roofs over their heads creating commercial content. For many, this kind of work is a calling. Filmmakers struggle and sacrifice mightily to make these films, often passion projects, under stressful and sometimes dangerous circumstances often with little to no money. And so many of these kinds of films are still being made. The major problem is they are not being distributed. They are not reaching audiences like they should.
Hugh Reynolds: Regarding the boom-bust period we were discussing: during and after the pandemic, social issues have been brought to the forefront of public dialogue. To me, that would seem like it’s really conducive for documentary filmmaking. People are seeking to educate themselves on these issues. People would want to finance the exploration of these issues. Is that the boom period you were talking about? Or are we still in the midst of that? Or did that never happen?
Sara Archambault: As I mentioned, there is still significant documentary work being done on the social issues of our time. If you look at last year’s Academy Awards nominee list, I think it was the best that we’ve had in years when it comes to global talent and politically significant filmmaking.
Those films are still getting visibility in rarefied circles, but they’re not getting distribution the way that they need to. Viewing habits, particularly for documentary, have shifted dramatically due to the pandemic. Independent content is either going from festival premier straight to streaming, or from festival premiere to nothing. The theatrical market for documentary flatlined during the pandemic. Documentary has not rebounded in the theaters the way scripted film has.
But it’s often a theatrical release that helps make the public aware of a film. This film exists; come see it! Now that fewer and fewer documentary films are getting theatrical releases, they’re losing that boost to public awareness. Only a small percentage of the country follows film festivals. The market has kind of fallen apart.
But I agree, there is a public interest in so many social issues. With a lack of films circulating to address them, many go to YouTube or TikTok to find visual storytelling to fill those gaps. This content is plentiful, cheap to make, but not all of it is reliable. And that’s the danger. One thing I find encouraging – I’m really interested in the online experiments that outlets like PBS’s FRONTLINE, which makes absolutely incredible and journalistic documentary content regularly, are doing. They still have a significant audience through broadcast, but they have a large and growing following on YouTube. However, FRONTLINE’s funding doesn’t rely on its YouTube performance, and there is not the kind of monetization on YouTube content available that could pay for a professional production. All this to say, I’m interested in those places making reliable journalism and public interest documentary like FRONTLINE or America Reframed, and putting it into conversation with other kinds of filmed information online. Go to where the audience is, and see if you can engage them. Of course, with YouTube, you bump up against more algorithms.
Hugh Reynolds: It seems social media would play an important role in filling that gap. People are passionate about these social issues, and should feel inspired to share films that tackle them. Is that happening?
Sara Archambault: It has started happening more. More documentary filmmakers are finding the best way to use TikTok to build awareness for films. I’m even seeing more documentary film criticism there! Instagram Stories functions well for promotional purposes, releasing trailers, building a following that we hope transforms into real viewership. But filmmakers also need to release themselves of their snobbery around the more prestigious ways of getting attention for their films, and innovate to meet the audience where they are. I don’t think long-form documentary film is ever going to go away completely. But should we be looking at shorter episodic work on TikTok? Should we take cues from the kind of authentic direct address on social media that commands large followings? If our priority is thoughtful, journalistic, artful, long-form nonfiction, and connecting our research and vision to audiences, then should we look to find audiences on YouTube or Instagram or wherever the next attention-grabbing platforms lead us?
What this means for what we’re making and how we finance it would need to be figured out. Part of the boom period was the dawn of equity financing into the documentary space. For years, documentary filmmaking was supported by philanthropists, foundations, PBS, and other commissions. As we entered the streaming age, equity financiers became involved more aggressively. They started financing documentaries the way they were financing narrative features: they make investment, then participate in profit sharing, seeking to make a premium.
The problem is that the majority of these films were never going to be able to make a return. Their cultural, informational, or political value outweighs their financial value more often than not. The boom time signaled to financiers that there might be the possibility of big returns in documentary filmmaking. And then there was a bit of a gold rush toward a river that had too many panners and not enough gold. The reality is that there are only one or two major documentary films a year that have any potential for financial return, if any at all. And with a shrinking pool of equity investment, a small group of philanthropic funders, limited studio-funded projects (though rarely in the public interest space), and few commissions, we need new answers. There needs to be new ways to make political, informational, and social justice documentary work well, affordably, and in a way that finds the audiences. Social media is likely part of that future, but not the only part by a long stretch.
This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
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