"Narrative Struggle" - Fighting Back Through Films and Film Festivals

We are on the frontlines.

“Now we’re at a moment at the beginnings of a narrative struggle. The reason why I am hopeful is that earlier in my career we didn’t have thousands of committed journalists, professionals, storytellers, filmmakers, and writers who could participate in this narrative struggle, so we’ve never been better situated to win the next phase of this struggle toward a just America than we are now….

“I have seen too much beauty come out of truth-telling, too much restoration, and redemption, to believe that truth-telling doesn’t have a kind of power that is greater than the fear and anger that is prompting these [executive] orders, prompting this retreat. I worry about people who are already surrendering, and waving white flags and running for cover. I don’t think that’s the way we’re going to get to the other side.”

— Bryan Stevenson, the founder and executive director of the Alabama-based Equal Justice Initiative and author of “Just Mercy,” speaking to “On the Media” (4/26)

I love Brooke Gladstone’s NPR show “On the Media.” When Congress defunds the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, the first place I will be sending my $5 is “On the Media.” (By the way, right now is the time to speak out, write, and call, if you don’t want that to happen.) On Friday, Gladstone spoke with Stevenson about the “period of retrenchment” we’re currently living in. “There’s always two steps forward, one step back—but this is just a great leap backwards,” Gladstone said. “So what are you hopeful for?” The answer, in part, is what I’ve quoted from above. You can listen to the entire episode here.

Bryan Stevenson

Stevenson’s testimony resonated with me deeply, echoing some of the same things I’ve been hearing from my colleagues, and inspired me to write this post about the stakes involved in our field—and what I’ve been talking about and thinking about as we prep for this year’s Doc10, a small film festival that I began 10 years ago in Chicago with the folks at CMP. In interviews over the last week with the Chicago Tribune, Chicago’s NPR affiliate WBEZ, and Ray Pride at the New City, it was hard to talk about Doc10, a documentary film festival, without talking about the multitude of crises crashing into these worlds. Documentary. Film Festival. Two things that aren’t exactly flourishing in an America where truth and culture are under attack. Geeta Gandbhir, director of probably the year’s most acclaimed documentary so far, The Perfect Neighbor, told WBEZ that a federal grant for another project at her company was recently rescinded. “The grant got cut, and we had to stop working," she said. “But did that mean we gave up completely? No.”

We can’t give up, because we are on the frontlines of the “narrative struggle” that Stevenson speaks about. More than ever, it is clear that one of the main goals of the extreme right-wing in power is to rewrite history, facts, reality, and reshape the public sphere, from a place that is filled with a diverse exchange of ideas to one of univocal, reactionary, and white-supremacist thought. I was recently speaking with another film festival director who wanted to become more active and organize against the Trump regime, and I told them that I thought the best thing we can do—as people who run film festivals—is use that platform and those connections to embolden the narratives we’re trying to showcase. Sure, we can call our representatives every day and join street protests and actions, but filmmakers, film industry professionals, and media creators and their supporters are well situated to fight the right-wing online echo-chamber and racist propagandists by doing what we do best: Storytelling. Truth-telling. And bringing more people to feel the power and restoration that comes with that.

Additionally, as I told the Chicago Tribune, "One thing documentaries can do, especially documentaries about current crises, is give us the long view. Or the deep view, the one we’re not getting from sound bites, or YouTube videos, or the administration’s statements. When you see a film like 2000 Meters to Andriivka that puts you on the front line in Ukraine, you understand what’s happening. You understand the stakes. You get a deeper, more substantive view that is not manipulate-able by propaganda."

Film festivals and cultural events—particularly those in red or purple states and counties—need to do a substantial amount of work to bring more local citizens and leaders to see these films and participate in their events. Recently, I heard about a regional film festival director who had no idea who the congressperson in their area was. But these are the people who are voting on their future funding! Invite them, pamper them, make them feel included. And show them not only the cultural benefit to their communities, but moreover, the economic benefit, bringing in people to their downtowns, their restaurants, their bars. How can they argue with that? Isn’t that why every town has a festival of some kind?

Ok, maybe I wouldn’t invite a Republican to see a Ukrainian documentary in the current climate (though we should). But how could anyone resist the infectious joy of Stanley Nelson and Nicole London’s We Want the Funk!, the inspirational and compassionate spirit of Lindsay Utz and Michelle Walshe’s Prime Minister, the gentleness and beauty of Rachel Grady and Heidi Ewing’s FOLKTALES, or the thrilling suspense of James Jones’ Antidote? (All Doc10 selections, by the way.)

Obviously, the Marjorie Taylor-Greene Republicans will sift through hundreds and hundreds of hours of media to find the most controversial moment to illustrate their inflammatory points, but so much of the debates around film and the arts ignores the majority of the work that gets made and seen and how it brings communities together. If we could just get more people to watch these films, understand what they are, and how they provide interrelational, cultural, and economic benefits, they might recognize their value. The narrative struggle, indeed.

Over the last few months, I’ve heard that there are plenty of Republican congresspeople who support cultural arts funding for their districts. But none of them as far as I know have said anything to protest the defunding of their State Humanities Councils out of deference to their leader. It’s shocking how different the Republican party is today than a few years ago. In 2017, rightwing Baptist minister-turned politician Mike Huckabee was a staunch defender of the NEA. Today, no one cares, spouting the talking points of extreme-right influencers and think-tanks (for a lark, check out the Heritage Foundation’s “Ten Good Reasons to Eliminate Funding for the National Endowment for the Arts,” which is full of falsehoods, distortions, and cherrypicking fallacies, including that federal funding for artists is “welfare for cultural elitists”—tell that to Geeta Gandhbir—or that “a radical virus of multiculturalism” “has infected the agency instead of artistic merit”—tell that to dozens of incredible artists who happen to be people of color). It’s obviously too late for the MAGA right-wing and the entirety of what still exists as our federal government to come around to seeing that supporting the arts is actually good for our children, our families, and our communities. But it’s not too late for States, cities, and everyone else.

People are organizing. There is the work of the Future Film Coalition (more on them soon). And on May 8, the Film Festival Alliance and Art House Convergence are hosting a webinar to discuss the reduction in federal, state, and local financial support in 2025 due to the decimation of the NEA and the NEH, as well as the increased threat to 501c3 status, “with the possibility of its weaponization in a highly polarized political climate,” an email states. "Embedded within our hope for a stabilization in our field is a need to prepare. How do we do that? What should we be doing as organizations to reinforce our missions, programs, and balance sheets? How do we uplift and support each other, especially as some of us face increased scrutiny?”

Our sector is obviously going to suffer some serious pain. Jobs will be lost; projects will be abandoned; organizations will go bust. This is inevitable. But this, as I’ve been told recently by numerous culture leaders, is what makes advocacy, preparation, and organization all the more important right now for the future day when, hopefully, we will be on the other side.

This is a developing story.