{"id":47922,"date":"2026-05-20T23:45:56","date_gmt":"2026-05-21T03:45:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.nearbycafe.com\/artandphoto\/photocritic\/?p=47922"},"modified":"2026-05-31T22:19:19","modified_gmt":"2026-06-01T02:19:19","slug":"thoughts-on-the-stringer-b","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.nearbycafe.com\/artandphoto\/photocritic\/2026\/05\/20\/thoughts-on-the-stringer-b\/","title":{"rendered":"Thoughts on “The Stringer” (b)"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"In January 2025, as the tidal wave of coverage of the controversy over The Stringer<\/em> was building, I contacted the VII Foundation<\/a>, which produced it, to see if they would show me the courtesy of providing a reviewer’s pass to an invitation-only online viewing of the film. I used our team’s investigation of the Capa D-Day myth as my credential, along with a promise of eventual feedback, which I hereby fulfill. Eventually, the foundation’s Fiona Turner, one of the film’s producers, graciously provided that access.<\/p>\n

With it, I watched the original “festival” edition of The Stringer<\/em> three times. Once the revised version began streaming on Netflix I watched it several more times. I’ve also read and re-read the several versions of the Associated Press and World Press Photo reports listed in my previous post<\/a>. Furthermore, I’ve read a fair amount of related material, and I’ve tracked the film’s ripple effect for the past 17 months, as described in the previous post. So I bring my awareness of all that, plus multiple viewings \u2014 the most recent this past weekend \u2014 to the following critique.<\/p>\n

\"VIIFurthermore, in the interest of full disclosure, I’ve had access to a thorough forensic analysis of all three major documents involved \u2014 the film, the AP report, and the WPP report \u2014 plus other related materials, privately undertaken by experts independent of all three organizations. Unfortunately, its authors can’t make it public, since it relies on close scrutiny of dozens of copyrighted photographs and video frame captures whose uses would require permissions requests too complex for them to negotiate. For that reason they will remain anonymous. My study of this analysis has, inevitably, affected my assessment of the film and the two related reports. Nevertheless, the following commentary does not rely on that independent analysis for its conclusions.<\/p>\n

\u2022<\/p>\n

Burden of Proof: The Stringer<\/em> Makes Its Case<\/strong><\/p>\n

There’s no separating the VII Foundation’s feature-length documentary film\u00a0The Stringer: The Man Who Took the Photo<\/em> from the controversy it generated. Equally difficult to uncouple it from the two investigations it deliberately set out to provoke \u2014 the first a report from the Associated Press, the second a follow-up to that from World Press Photo.<\/p>\n

\"VII

VII Foundation, The Stringer (2025), release promo, screenshot<\/p><\/div>\n

In my previous post<\/a> I sketched the film’s thesis. In a nutshell, it argues that the iconic 1972 Vietnam war photo titled “The Terror of War” (and informally referred to as “Napalm Girl”), heretofore attributed to a Vietnamese staff photographer for the Associated Press, Huynh Cong “Nick” Ut, actually has a different author: Vietnamese freelancer or “stringer” Nguyen Thanh Nghe. Furthermore, it asserts that Ut has falsely claimed to have left the scene shortly after making that photo in order to transport the wounded girl to a nearby hospital.<\/p>\n

I also outlined \u2014 and provided links to \u2014 the official responses to the film from those it implicates in the picture-credit switcheroo. (I don’t see any value to sifting through the countless reactions to the film’s charges from partisans on either side not involved in the 1972 situation.) In the end, AP decided to maintain its attribution to Ut of “Napalm Girl,” while WPP suspended its attribution of it to him. Ut is now suing VII Foundation and Netflix (the film’s distributor) for criminal defamation, in a French court. The question that interests me: Considered as documentation and forensic inquiry \u2014 as evidence \u2014 how effectively does The Stringer<\/em> make its case?<\/p>\n

\u2022<\/p>\n

As a writer, critic, and cultural journalist I familiarized myself early on with copyright law and the laws covering defamation, slander, and libel in the U.S., out of self-interest. I’m not a lawyer, but I have a reasonable if rudimentary grasp of all those legalities \u2014 enough so that in more than a half-century of publishing often caustic commentaries I’ve never been accused of any of the above.<\/p>\n

But while there’s an International Copyright Convention that most western countries have signed, thereby largely conforming their relevant laws to basic standards, the laws covering defamation, slander, and libel differ from country to country. So what would get protection in the U.S. does not automatically pertain in France, where, as it happens, someone can sue you for defaming the dead.<\/p>\n

\"WorldSo I cannot speak with any confidence to how the French courts might construe this film as proof of its claims. Nor do I know whether they will allow into evidence the AP and WPP reports, each of which bolsters the film’s claims to some extent. All I can do usefully is describe the filmmakers’ strategy and tactics as I understand them, and point to the questions it leaves open and the issues it leaves unresolved.<\/p>\n

With that in mind, I won’t attempt a synopsis of the film beyond what I’ve already provided. For obvious reasons, then, what follows will only make sense if you have viewed the film at least once and read the AP and WPP reports. Which I encourage you to do, since they’re fascinating.<\/p>\n

\u2022<\/p>\n

Unlike the Capa D-Day myth \u2014 slow to take off, evolving incrementally, and decades in the making \u2014 the mythification of “Napalm Girl” and Ut’s supposed authorship thereof happened virtually overnight. The film does a good job of summarizing that. Overall, I find The Stringer<\/em> extremely well done \u2014 compelling and persuasive.<\/p>\n

Its effectiveness comes primarily from what I’d call its narrative strategy and content \u2014 that is, its first-person testimonies and the story these filmmakers weave with those. Which are convincing. Yet also, as I know from the Capa D-Day project, unreliable, even though they correlate well with each other and with established facts.<\/p>\n

The anecdotal\/eyewitness accounts have the most appeal, especially to the casual\/non-specialist audience. You put faces to the names, get glimpses of personality, identify emotionally, choose sides, participate vicariously in a story. As “story-telling apes,” we’re hardwired for that, and addicted to its seduction. It’s also easy. And that’s entertainment.<\/p>\n

\"AssociatedBut people lie. They embellish and exaggerate. They invent. They’re suggestible. They misremember. They forget.<\/p>\n

The risk for all involved \u2014 including the audience for the movie, and the journalists and critics responding to it publicly \u2014 has to do with the seductiveness of story. Because, even in outline, one can see the appeal of this one: classic David vs. Goliath, whistleblower vs. corporation, person of color vs. white power structure, big-media monolith screws independent journalist, etc.<\/p>\n

In fact, this particular story has way more nuance than any of those stand-alone tropes, making it even more appealing. Until these filmmakers sought him out, Nghe never went public with his claim to authorship of the photo, simply accepting his erasure from the record while living in hope that someone would come along to help him get the credit due him. Horst Faas, the ostensible villain in this drama, had motives for crediting the picture to Ut that were at least partly selfless and benevolent. His decision, made without consulting Ut, put his 20-year-old prot\u00e9g\u00e9 in an impossible bind: declare the truth and embarrass not just his mentor but the company that employed them both, or live with the lie from then on. Carl Robinson, the AP staff photo editor and belated whistleblower, suffered a tortured conscience for 50 years over his complicity in changing the attribution. Then Robinson broke his silence and contacted Gary Knight of the VII Foundation, who rode in to save the day.<\/p>\n

Treated purely as dramaturgy, it’s cinematic gold. If this came to you as a fictional Hollywood movie, you’d buy into its storyline in a minute. Which poses a problem in the documentary context, because a good story doesn’t have to be true. It doesn’t have to be credible in every detail. It doesn’t have to prove its case with hard evidence. It only has to be engrossing.<\/p>\n

\"VII

VII Foundation, The Stringer (2025), trailer promo, screenshot<\/p><\/div>\n

\u2022<\/p>\n

Another problem arises when you treat documentary as drama: You need a protagonist to function as surrogate, leading the viewer through the story as it unfolds. In this instance that role falls to Gary Knight. Consequently, there’s hardly a scene without Knight somehow in it \u2014 bicycling down a country lane outside Arles, speaking to the VII Foundation crew, interviewing someone in Vietnam, brooding in his Arles office, strolling in a Ho Chi Minh City marketplace, waiting in a hotel courtyard, walking along a canal at night, entering and leaving the AP’s headquarters in London, typing and sending a decisive email from the Frontline Club. If he’s not visible in a scene then he’s usually audible, providing the voiceover.<\/p>\n

\"Gary

Gary Knight in the VII Foundation’s Arles office, The Stringer (2025), screenshot<\/p><\/div>\n

This decision got made early on in the film’s development phase, proposed by the film’s Vietnamese American director, Bao Nguyen (Be Water<\/em><\/a> and The Greatest Night in Pop<\/a><\/em>) and then endorsed collectively by Knight and his colleagues at the VII Foundation. It shapes the narrative \u2014 indeed, it becomes the narrative. Effectively, thereby, the film makes Knight its central character and moral anchor, even more so than Nghe, who becomes at times almost peripheral as “Gary searches for the truth.” Which, even if unintentionally, positions Knight as yet another western white savior rescuing the person of color from injustice in the eleventh hour. I don’t propose that any of the parties involved desired that effect. Rather, it emerges as a predictable consequence of the film’s narrative strategy.<\/p>\n

In a GQ<\/em> interview with Nguyen and Knight<\/a>, conducted via Zoom by Yang-Yi Goh and dated November 26, 2025, timed to coincide with the film’s Netflix debut, Knight and Nyugen speak at some length about the film. Nguyen discusses therein the decision to make Knight his central character:<\/p>\n

I should say Gary was very reluctant to be a presence on camera. He’s been behind the camera for so many decades, but I knew that as the investigation was unfolding, the way that the secrets and mysteries were unraveling, that we needed someone who was doing it, who was actually investigating to take us on this journey.<\/em><\/p>\n

And for me, I am such an admirer of cinema about journalism, like <\/em>All The President’s Men and <\/em>Spotlight, which utilizes the role of a journalist to take the viewer through this reporting process. …<\/em><\/p>\n

… [T]he film, for me, was always about telling a story, right, about revealing the story that hadn\u2019t been told in 53 years. And I think that\u2019s the satisfaction that I was looking for.<\/em><\/p>\n

About that strategic decision, and his role in the film as its protagonist, Knight says,<\/p>\n

After that first interview, when we knew that Carl [Robinson] was a credible eyewitness, that’s when we became determined to make a proper film. VII is a photo agency originally, it’s a visual journalism organization, and we wanted to make sure that if we were going to make a film, it would be a proper film, not [just] a traditional journalism investigation. [We wanted] it to be cinematic. …
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

I found the process \u2026 I’ve been filmed a few times before in other people’s films, so I wouldn’t say I’m used to it, but I have experienced it before. But I found the idea of it excruciating. I can’t stand watching the film and I’m very self-conscious, actually.<\/em><\/p>\n

But when Bao said, “Look, this is the way I see the film and it needs to be made this way,” I said, “Well, if that’s what he wants to do, then I have to do it.” …<\/em><\/p>\n

So for me to challenge my own profession and ask questions of my own profession, I thought that that would have real meaning and be very difficult for other people in my profession to ignore. I thought it was a reasonable use of the privilege that I’ve had. But [being in front of the camera] was painful. …
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

I think as the film is seen, it will do what it was intended to do, which is to put the story out there, like any good piece of journalism, any story, and the public will judge for themselves the value of the story, the value of the information we’re giving. …<\/em><\/p>\n

This motivation on the parts of all concerned \u2014 the desire for a “proper film,” something “cinematic” \u2014 leads inevitably to concentration on the “human-interest” aspect of the narrative. That doesn’t make it a wrong decision. Due to this film, Nghe and his account have a place on the historical record; at the very least, from now on Nick Ut’s authorship of “Napalm Girl” will always have an asterisk next to it. In terms of drawing attention to the film and getting its message out it has worked, though arguably what Knight dismisses as “a traditional journalism investigation” addressing this iconic image would have had the same impact. We’ll never know.<\/p>\n

We can say, for sure, that its cinematic structure necessitated the minimizing and even exclusion of the non-“cinematic,” such as any detailed technical explanation of matters related to photographic practice, which your average moviegoer might find off-putting. In short, it comes at a price. And that price may include vulnerability to evaluation as inconclusive and non-probative from a legal standpoint. …<\/p>\n

Part 1<\/a> I 2 I 3<\/a> I 4<\/a><\/p>\n

\u2022<\/p>\n

This post sponsored by a donation from Carlyle T.<\/p>\n

\u2022<\/p>\n

\"Allan<\/p>\n

Special offer:<\/strong> If you want me to either continue pursuing a particular subject or give you a break and (for one post) write on a topic \u2014 my choice \u2014 other than the current main story, make a donation of $50 via the PayPal widget below<\/strong>, indicating your preference in a note accompanying your donation. I’ll credit you as that new post’s sponsor, and link to a website of your choosing.<\/p>\n

And, as a bonus, I’ll send you a signed copy of my new book, poetic license \/ poetic justice<\/em> \u2014 published under my full name, Allan Douglass Coleman, which I use for my creative writing.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
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Treated purely as dramaturgy, “The Stringer” is cinematic gold. If this came to you as a fictional Hollywood movie, you\u2019d buy into its storyline in a minute. Which poses a problem in the documentary context, because a good story doesn\u2019t have to be true. It doesn\u2019t have to be credible in every detail. It doesn\u2019t have to prove its case with hard evidence. It only has to be engrossing. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[11,945,946],"tags":[2397,2402,2401,2396,2395,2366,559],"class_list":["post-47922","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-film-reviews","category-photo-history","category-photojournalism-2","tag-associated-press","tag-bao-nguyen","tag-fiona-turner","tag-huynh-cong-nick-ut","tag-nguyen-thanh-nghe","tag-vii-foundation","tag-world-press-photo","odd"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nearbycafe.com\/artandphoto\/photocritic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47922","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nearbycafe.com\/artandphoto\/photocritic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nearbycafe.com\/artandphoto\/photocritic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nearbycafe.com\/artandphoto\/photocritic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nearbycafe.com\/artandphoto\/photocritic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=47922"}],"version-history":[{"count":63,"href":"https:\/\/www.nearbycafe.com\/artandphoto\/photocritic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47922\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":48146,"href":"https:\/\/www.nearbycafe.com\/artandphoto\/photocritic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/47922\/revisions\/48146"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nearbycafe.com\/artandphoto\/photocritic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=47922"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nearbycafe.com\/artandphoto\/photocritic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=47922"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nearbycafe.com\/artandphoto\/photocritic\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=47922"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}