https://en.wikipedia.

org/wiki/Documentary_film

Types of documentary

According to Webster’s dictionary, documentary consists of written down documents. The Wikipedia
defines documentary as a non -fictional motion picture with the purpose of documenting some aspects of
reality, intended to maintain a historical record. In this regard, Bill Nicholas’s classic book, titled
‘Introduction to Documentary’ can be mentioned. He identifies six genres or types of documentaries. The
six main categories of the documentary films are:

Poetic Documentary

what are documentary,types and modes

Poetic Documentaries were first introduced in the 1920’s. Their main aim is to focus on experience, images
and show people the world from a different set of viewpoints. They are mainly loose and abstract depicting a
kind of feeling rather than the truth. It is individualistic and experimental in form.

Expository Documentary

Expository Documentaries are the closest relatable to the term ‘Documentaries’. It is contrasting to the
poetic documentaries in a way that expository documentaries intend to persuade or inform. It is bereft of
ambivalent or poetic eloquence. This form consists of the television and Ken Burns style.

Observational Documentary

Observational Documentaries focus on observing the world and the surroundings. It originated in the 1960’s
with the invention of portable film equipment and instruments. They voiced almost all dimensions of an
issue by giving the audience the opportunity to delve into the subject’s most important and sometimes most
intimate moment.

Participatory Documentary

Participation has common characteristics of both observational and expository. They involve the film-maker
with the narrative. The film maker’s voice can be heard at the back of the camera, prompting the subjects
with various questions. Thus, the filmmaker directly impacts the crucial roles of the narratives.

Reflexive Documentary

Reflexive Documentaries are familiar to participatory documentaries in a way that they also comprise the
film-maker with the particular film. However, they make no effort to investigate an outside subject, unlike
the participatory documentaries. Their aim is mainly to focus on themselves.

Performative Documentary

It is a unique and inventory combination of styles used to share a poignant message to the world as well as
to stress on subjects with experience. They often affix personal accounts and experience placed close
together with the prodigious historical and political concerns. This has also been referred to the ‘Michael
Moore’ style, as he often depicted the social constructs of truth using his personal stories.

Narrative Modes and Documentary Structures

Toni De Bromhead in her book ‘Looking Two Ways’, criticises Nichols, for his emphasis on documentaries
as the sole rational discourse. According to Bromhead, documentaries reach the hearts and souls and not just
minds alone. Centre for documentaries is storytelling which is an emotional response and empathy. Contrast
to Nichols' rationalistic view, she mentioned the cinematic qualities of the documentaries. According to
Bromhead, cinema is experimental, expressive, and it arouses as well as acknowledges the subjectivity.

Cinematic documentaries involve innovative cinematic devices, utilising the appropriate articulation of
opinions. It takes into consideration the viewpoint of the filmmaker and the creative aspects of film-making.
Whereas the journalist and rationalist view are based upon verifiable facts. It mainly employs eyewitness
testimony and questions the plausibility of the filmmaker’s opinion. Here, the film-makers creative aspect is
subject to rejection.

Bromhead wants to depart from the complications of “objectivity and truth” and instead, she wants to focus
her emphasis on the issues of narratives and the “relationship to be represented”. She fathoms that the
documentary's “claim to the real” is subjective and can never be objective in its true sense. Here, the
subjectivity of the film-maker always comes to the fore.

De-Bromhead Documentary Modes

Linear Mode: It includes Classic or Hollywood storytelling; it is character-based and it involves three-act
structures, as it revolves around the arc of conflict and story-telling. Examples: Primary (1960), Drew and
Leacock.

Discursive mode: It involves priority to information and it is typical of current affairs documentaries,
political documentaries. It may give more scope to cinematic concerns rather than purely journalistic
filmmaking. It often relies on archives to elucidate the story. Examples: The War on Democracy (2007).

Episodic mode: It juxtaposes circumstances that have no causal or narrative relationship with each other. It
is often enjoined by a single dominant theme or idea (e.g. the seasons). Examples: Nanook of the north
(1922) and Robert Flaherty & Hospital (1970) – Frederick Wiseman.

Poetic Mode: It consists of audiovisual poetic associations. It shuns the conventional narrative logic or a
specific storyline. It takes into consideration poetic structures such as metaphors and disjunction. Examples:
Listen to Britain (1942) – Humphrey Jennings & Rain (1929) – Joris Ivans

Hybrid mode: It encompasses the diary film and the road movie. Diary film counts the one dimensional
logic of processing of time. Examples: Tarnation (2003) – Jonathan Caouette. Road Movie brings in a
physical journey that is used to structure a narrative in an episodic format. Examples: Don’t Look Back
(1966)

Documentary as propaganda:
https://sci-hub.ee/10.1080/00986280802004602
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Propaganda_film
Nanook of North analysis

In 1910 Sir William Mackenzie hired Robert Flaherty to prospect the vast area east of the Hudson Bay for its
railway and mineral potential. Over the course of several years and through four lengthy expeditions
Flaherty had frequent contact with the region’s Inuit (Eskimo) people. He was taken by their traditional
survival skills, and found an unexpected spirituality in this northern extreme—a profound cultural grace and
dignity in a wickedly unforgiving environment. He also knew that he was witness to and a harbinger of its
obliteration. What could be done? On one of his expeditions, Flaherty brought along a motion picture
camera.

Nanook of the North was not initially intended as a documentary, a genre which had not even been defined
at the time of the film’s production. As Flaherty’s widow Frances affirms in the interview featured on this
disc, the film was made with an eye for commercial distribution and exhibition, and for audiences
accustomed to narrative fiction films. Flaherty was not an ethnographer, but he was building his story out of
the materials of real life. In this he was blazing cinematic trails, and even though the tenets of
anthropological filmmaking were not nearly in place, it is remarkable how much he still managed to get
right. Initiating a practice that would later become fundamental ethnographic etiquette, Flaherty developed
each day’s footage and screened it for the participants, who were encouraged to make suggestions. Since the
Inuit were the authorities on their own lives, many of these suggestions were incorporated into the film.
Consistent with this substantial artistic collaboration, and contrary to a narrative and stylistic impulse that
would prevail elsewhere for many more years, Flaherty does not intrude on his subject. He is not the star of
his film, and though his effaced presence causes a few unsightly wrinkles (contrivances—like Nanook’s
biting of the phonograph record—are presented as actual and natural), for the most part it means that the
credit for the film’s feats of courage and grace goes precisely where it belongs: to the Inuit.

In its earliest years (approx. 1895–1902), film production was dominated by actual, short pictures of real
people in real places. Composed largely of two categories—the travelogue and, more substantially, the
industrial-life portrait—these films favoured an unmediated view of the world over arranged spectacle.
Though they gave way in popularity to the narrative fictions of Georges Méliès and Edwin Porter, they
continued to be produced in great numbers. Robert Flaherty’s great innovation was simply to combine the
two forms of actuality, infusing the exotic journey with the details of indigenous work and play and life. By
doing so Flaherty transcended the travelogue, as the picturesque became a real and respectful portrait.

That portrait has two things that, even today, remain at the very core of the documentary idea. These are
process and duration—the detailed representation of how everyday things are done (burning moss for fuel,
covering a kayak, negotiating ice floes, hunting, and caring for children) and how long the doing takes. For
instance, consider Nanook’s stunning igloo-building sequence, where labour is not only revealed in its social
context, but emerges, through Nanook’s skill and Flaherty’s cinematic revelation, as an ideal of beauty and
spirituality. First there is shelter, then warmth, and finally light (the window!); here and elsewhere in the
film, by giving real processes a human dimension, craftsmanship and artistry become one. Nanook of the
North pioneered these ideas, and it remains nearly matchless in executing them.

Nevertheless, the film is full of faking and fudging in one form or another. Observers (starting with John
Grierson) would come to accuse Flaherty of ignoring reality in favour of a romance that was, for all its
documentary value, irrelevant. The family at the film’s centre was not at all. These were photogenic Inuit,
cast and paid to play these roles. The characters’ authentic clothes were actually a nostalgic hybrid; the Inuit
had started to integrate Western wear some time previously. This integration was in fact quite general: igloos
were giving way to southern building materials, many harpoons had been replaced by rifles, and many kayak
paddles by motors. The seal that appears to be engaging Nanook in a delightful tug of war is actually dead;
Nanook is in fact being pulled around by friends at the other end of the rope, standing just off camera.
During the famous walrus hunt the hunters desperately asked the filmmaker to stop shooting the camera and
start shooting the rifle. For his part, Flaherty pretended not to hear, and kept filming until the prey was taken
in the old way. A failed bear hunt (not appearing in the film, but related in Flaherty’s northern memoir, My
Eskimo Friends) left its participants, Flaherty included, stranded and nearly starving for weeks.

Flaherty’s shortcomings, as well as those of his films, are certain, and they should be acknowledged.
However, it is fair to point out that, with regard to endangerments for the film’s sake, Flaherty exposes the
Inuit to difficulties that are well within the realm of their traditional experience. More importantly, Nanook’s
partial inaccuracies and manipulations resulted from Flaherty’s desire to preserve a sense of ancient
traditions before it was too late.

When confronted with the dubious documentary status of his last film, Flaherty would emphasise its title,
which was of course Louisiana Story. Likewise, an essential addition to this new version is Nanook’s
original subtitle: “A story of life and love in the actual Arctic.” In making this film, Flaherty was telling a
story, and from first to last he never claimed differently.

Documentaries in India

https://www.documentary.org/feature/bollywood-long-rich-history-documentary-india
https://frontline.thehindu.com/books/the-documentary-movement-in-india/article10106598.ece
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ritwik_Ghatak

Read some documentary reviews

Here are few

Ram ke Naam: Ram ke Naam, In the name of God (1992) by Anand Patwardhan explores religion and
beliefs and it depicts how politics, classism and communalism come into play and become interconnected
with religion. The documentary projects how in the name of God, issues like communalism, classism,
violence and killings are justified. Till the Ayodhya dispute, both Hindu and Muslim would pray in the same
premises. The Ayodhya dispute was triggered by the District Manager, K.K Nayar’s movie of keeping the
idol of Ram in the mosque. Although Mahant Shastri was responsible for keeping the idols, it was done only
after he was told to do so by the DM. This shows how other sources came into manipulating religious ideals.
Despite promises of an unproblematic Rath Yatra, L.K Advani’s Rath Yatra continues in spite of giving rise
to riots and protests resulting in death of people in large numbers. Whatever happened to the idea of India
being secular.

The idea of demolishing a mosque to build a temple in itself signifies how religion has become more like a
battle. Originally, Hindu dharma knows tolerance but as times get modern Hindu dharma has various
versions in one of which, violence and other problematic issues are accepted, all in the name of religion.
Most of the people who claimed to be believers were intolerant and came down to the level of violence for
Hindu dharma. More than having faith in their religious ideals, they wanted to bring another religion down
which explains the contamination that has happened to our religious ideals.
There are religions which are polarised and extreme but Hindu religion is not one of them. As shown in the
documentary, the interpretation by the very people of the Hindu religious ideals is what manipulates them.
This is where politics also come into play. As Mahant Lal Das, priest of Ramjanmabhoomi Temple, quotes
how the communal riots are a part of politics and not religion. It is just a mere political game. Vishwa Hindu
Parishad which was initiating the whole movement of demolishing a mosque to build a temple did not
bother to pray in the temple let alone presenting a single offering in the temple.

In this whole religious mobilisation, the end product was mayhem and killings. Right after the installation of
Ram idol, Muslims were not allowed to enter which explains how religious ideals gave rise to
communalism. There was this instant divide that was formed, disintegrating the peaceful unity of Hindus
and Muslims. The Janata Dal Legislator from Sudhara, Haryana when asked his take on building a temple
after demolition of the mosques ends up saying that Muslims are mere tenants and quotes Patel Ji saying we
should get rid of the bloody Muslims. One of the Hindus says that the temple is coming in a truck which
somewhat signifies like a battle is on its way. More than religion, politics keep coming in between. The
electrical shop worker who was interviewed in the documentary was ready to take up violent ways if anyone
goes against VHP. What he talks about first is the political party and not religion, religion comes at a later
stage.

The documentary cannot be completely read as a resistance to the hegemonic religious ideology but rather it
can be read as a resistance to being a staunch, blind and irrational ‘believer’. The documentary tries to
portray the irrationality and stubbornness in Hindu extremists’ overlooking law and order and killing the
very God’s creations for building a temple. The documentary portrays how religion is used as a tool to
propagate people to create a divide among two communities. For instance, slogans like “Maarenge Mar
jaayenge, Mandir yahi banega” and “Paste lagao Dabur ka, Naam hatao Babur Ka”.

The documentary examines the ways in which Hindu fundamentalism stages and mobilizes the religious
iconography of the warrior God Ram against Muslim Communities thereby inciting Hindus to turn upon the
Muslims with murderous intent. A roadside hoarding depicts Ram, bow in right hand, arrow in his left hand,
sheaf of arrows strapped behind him, towering above his temple. Next to Ram is the face of L.K Advani, the
politician intent on leading a crusade to destroy the Babri Mosque in Ayodhya, the temple in the assumed
birthplace of Ram.

The documentary also portrays the prevalence of classism, in the form of class that exists within the
communal forces. L.K Advani starts his Rath Yatra in an air conditioned Toyota wherein thousands of
people chant slogans while the people who live in the streets have no knowledge of what is going on around
them. They are not even in consideration which highlights the class differences. The classism is visible in
the temples itself as Bhavandevi talks about her family who were farm labourers who would be giving food
to the priests. The priests, in turn, would eat and call them untouchables and won’t let them enter the temple.
Another perspective that is presented in the documentary is that lower caste people are shown to be more
tolerant and rational. Most of the people who think that it is unfair to destroy another religion for the identity
and ego of one religion belong from the lower class like chamaars, lohars, et al. On the other hand, upper
class like Brahmins and aroras are ready to kill people. Politics is also interconnected with classism as, in
one of the speeches, it is implied that “Asli Yadav '' will encourage the Rath Yatra even if it kills people,
since Mulayam Singh Yadav opposed the Rath Yatra, he was called a Yadav from backward class.

The documentary keeps various situations in front of the people which then become open to interpretation.
Exploring the dynamics of religion, politics, communities and classism, Ram ke Naam is enlightening and
provoking.
The Thin Blue Line: Errol Morris’s The Thin Blue Line (1988) is widely recognized as a monumental
achievement in the documentary tradition. A recent poll by the British Film Institute ranked it fifth in the
documentary pantheon. In 2001, it was placed on the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress. For
those viewing this canonical film today, the challenge is to recognize the many levels on which it was a
radically disruptive force that defied numerous assumptions about documentary as a mode of expression and
ultimately reconfigured our understanding of what constitutes nonfiction audiovisual practices.

Though generally admired from the outset, Morris’s film was nonetheless highly controversial. Even as the
National Society of Film Critics hailed it as the best documentary of the year, the Academy of Motion
Picture Arts and Sciences refused to consider it for an Oscar due to its use of “reenactments” and other
heresies. Traditionalists at the Academy felt it should be evaluated as a fiction film because of its “scripted
content,” a phrase that doubtless also referred to Morris’s stylized use of lighting, music, costuming, and
camera work.

Morris was already working against established conventions in his first two documentaries, Gates of Heaven
(1978) and Vernon, Florida (1981). These acerbic, perverse, and often surreal comedies enjoyed a loyal
following among a select group of adventurous cinephiles. But The Thin Blue Line was clearly going for
something bigger, implicitly addressing a much larger citizenry, both in the U.S. and abroad, as it took on an
obviously important subject: a miscarriage of justice that could have easily led to the legal execution of an
innocent man. Reexamining the trial and conviction of Randall Dale Adams for the murder of police officer
Robert W. Wood in Dallas, Texas, on November 28, 1976, Morris interviewed not only Adams but also key
witnesses for the prosecution (David Harris, Michael Randell, Emily Miller), police officers involved in the
investigation from Dallas (Gus Rose, Jackie Johnson, Marshall Touchton, Dale Holt) and nearby Vidor (Sam
Kittrell), the defense attorneys (Edith James, Dennis White), and the trial judge (Donald J. Metcalfe), among
others. The film did not simply reveal that Adams was innocent; it identified the actual killer—David Harris.
Morris’s investigation eventually freed Adams, who was otherwise destined to serve a life sentence in prison
after the U.S. Supreme Court made a procedural ruling that led the governor of Texas to commute his death
sentence.

Serious documentaries focusing on high-stakes topics generally embrace a well-established set of

conventions. Instead, as one Variety reviewer noted, this film’s visual elements were “entirely at odds with
the technique of the ordinary documentary.” To offer one small example: The Thin Blue Line does not
provide the names and titles of interviewees in the lower third of the screen, as is customary. Adams might
refer to Gus Rose in a way that suggests that the next person to appear on-screen is Rose, but we can’t be
certain. The only sure way to identify members of the police force is through the end credits. In short, The
Thin Blue Line presents its characters more in the style of fiction films than of traditional documentaries.
Certainly, Morris incorporates newspaper items and other documents, but he duplicates and presents these
records in an aestheticized way, displaying an indifference to traditional signs of authenticity. Likewise,
Philip Glass’s haunting score often plays under the testimony of the interviewees, providing an emotional
inflection to their statements that documentaries have traditionally avoided as undesirable manipulation. By
using Glass’s work in this way, as “movie music,” Morris is once again borrowing from the conventions of
fiction filmmaking. Indeed, when talking about The Thin Blue Line, Morris has often associated it with film
noir.

For many documentary practitioners and scholars, cinema verité, which flourished after 1960, fulfilled the
practice’s long-felt aspirational principles. Seeking to show people in the immediacy of their lives, this
method embraced the use of handheld cameras and natural light (or if the filmmaker needed to employ
lights, this intrusion was kept to a minimum). Vérité filmmakers, of course, rejected reenactments, which
had been common in earlier documentaries, before the introduction of lightweight, portable sync-sound
cameras. Many also avoided interviewing their subjects, hoping to catch their social actors off guard in a
revealing moment. Morris rejected all of these strategies—and even ridiculed the terminology. “Cinema
verité set back documentary filmmaking twenty or thirty years,” he famously proclaimed in a Cineaste
interview.

The Thin Blue Line’s flouting of vérité principles is underscored by the emphasis Morris gives to the role of
production designer Ted Bafaloukos in the opening credits. Morris films his subjects in formal settings,
obliterating their everyday milieus. Lighting is extensive and non naturalistic. Clothing appears to be
carefully chosen and coordinated by the filmmakers. The resulting highly stylized colour schema is often
breathtaking in its audacity. To begin with, Randall Adams is dressed in white—the colour of innocence.
Filmed against a textured black background, he is implicitly foregrounded as a victim of injustice. In
contrast, one of the people who offered last-minute (false) testimony against Adams, Michael Randell
(Randall’s doppelgänger), is dressed in black. Police officers—the “thin blue line” that protects the public
from criminals—wear striped ties containing lines of blue. The backgrounds for their interviews are also
often given a blue cast. The colour red is associated with the law: Judge Metcalfe’s tie as well as the flashing
lights of police cars are red. Orange is the colour of criminality. David Harris wears the orange-colored
clothing of a prisoner. His interview takes place against a contoured prisonlike wall that is also bathed in
orange. This colour-coding takes on added complexity as Emily Miller, an inveterate liar who provided the
prosecution with key (false) testimony that convicted Adams, wears an orangish sweater that appears red
under cold, bluish light. Miller, a woman with her own criminal history who likes to imagine herself as a
private detective and crime buster, is embraced by the prosecuting attorney and the law. In Dallas, orange
became the new red as criminals manipulated the law to gain their freedom and the justice system sent an
innocent man to death row.

Despite his general disdain for vérité filmmaking, Morris, somewhat surprisingly, claims a strong affinity
with one of its masters: Frederick Wiseman. In fact, Morris and Wiseman share much more than their
disparate styles would suggest. In Titicut Follies (1967), High School (1968), Law and Order (1969), and
Hospital (1970), Wiseman films people in authority who typically evaluate and instruct the less powerful:
the criminally insane, students, poor black city residents, and patients. Suddenly, the power dynamics are
reversed: it is these professionals (psychiatrists, teachers, policemen, doctors) who are being watched and
evaluated by the public that sees his films. Ultimately, Wiseman does not judge individuals so much as
institutions—a quality that resonates with The Thin Blue Line.

Also in line with his cinema verité colleagues, Morris is very intent on capturing people’s facial expressions
and body language. Like a jury, audiences evaluate whether or not those on-screen are telling the truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth. In The Thin Blue Line, when Officer Gus Rose casually remarks that
Adams almost overacted his innocence, we cannot help but note that the police had quickly assumed that he
was guilty and failed to consider the other possibility—that maybe Adams overacted his innocence because
he was innocent. Or consider Michael Randell. He claims to have a photographic memory yet hesitates as he
tries to remember if the police car was in front of or behind the car from which Wood would be gunned
down. If someone else spoke these words, even though we were assured that they were Randell’s, this
revelation of an uncertain memory would not carry the same credibility. The authentic, unscripted
performance of those in front of the camera is as critical to Morris as it is to vérité filmmakers.

Where Morris decidedly departs from vérité filmmakers is in his use of scripted scenes. These appear
frequently, but their function is actually limited and clarified by the underlying importance of the on-camera
interviews. In this respect, the term reenactment is an unfortunate misnomer. Barry Scheck, one of the
founders of the Innocence Project, has argued that these scenes are similar to courtroom visualisations,
which enable jurors to better understand the testimony of police investigators and witnesses. Morris does not
reconstruct what he believes to be a truthful account of the murder; rather he depicts these conflicting
accounts of events in ways that will help the spectator understand each account more clearly. Scheck has
argued that Morris’s documentary effectively follows the form of an appellate brief. The simulations, then,
do not represent the incorporation of fictional modes into the documentary (and so blur the distinctions) but
properly align the film with established legal conventions and the discourse of sobriety that is nonfiction.

In The Thin Blue Line, Morris provides a different and arguably more powerful kind of truth than does
cinema verité. This might be called “legal film truth,” since The Thin Blue Line challenges and then refutes
the judicial or state truth that Adams was guilty of murder beyond a reasonable doubt. During the 1970s and
1980s, cultural critics of various stripes had challenged the idea that documentary as a form was well suited
to the pursuit of truth, or that such a pursuit was even possible. Often their critiques were based on the
demonstrable failures of correspondence between audiovisual representations and the realities they
purported to re-present. Increasingly, documentary truth claims were attacked under a postmodernist rubric,
whose advocates asserted that truth was unstable, subjective, and finally unknowable. In the mid to late
1980s, such documentary filmmakers as Ross McElwee, Michael Moore, and Nick Broomfield largely
retained the vérité repertoire but responded to these critiques by moving in front of the camera—thus
making explicit the source of the film’s subjectivity. Morris stayed behind the camera. Still, when The Thin
Blue Line was first released, some critics tried to argue that it was consistent with a postmodern outlook.
Such a position became less and less tenable, however (and was forcefully rejected by Morris himself). That
Randall Adams was innocent of murder is not a provisional or subjective truth.

The Thin Blue Line raised fundamental questions about the death penalty. Capital punishment had been
suspended by the Supreme Court during much of the 1970s and was resumed shortly after Harris murdered
Officer Wood in November 1976 (the first of these renewed executions was in January 1977). The issue of
capital punishment became increasingly urgent as the number of executions nationwide grew: from one in
1981 (when Vernon, Florida was released) to twenty-five in 1987 (while The Thin Blue Line was being
made). After reaching a high point of ninety-eight executions in 1999, these numbers have fallen, to
thirty-nine in 2013—partially due to the abolishment of the death penalty in various states in recent years:
New York (2007), New Jersey (2007), New Mexico (2009), Illinois (2011), Connecticut (2012), and
Maryland (2013).

The Thin Blue Line helped launch an era in which this opposition became politically viable in many parts of
the United States. In its wake, the courtroom documentary arguably became the preeminent and most
influential genre in the nonfiction mode. Filmmakers Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky have acknowledged
The Thin Blue Line as an inspiration for their Paradise Lost trilogy, which ultimately contributed to the
freeing of the West Memphis Three, one of whom was on death row. Other filmmakers have also followed
in Morris’s footsteps. DNA evidence has revealed that many more innocent people have been unjustly
convicted of murder. Morris has argued that the problems with the death penalty go far beyond the
possibility of executing an innocent. “The death penalty makes mistakes more likely to happen,” he
remarked. “It’s no accident that you see this whole history of flawed, faulty convictions. The death penalty is
a mistake-engendering machine.”

Through The Thin Blue Line, Morris was able to argue strenuously and effectively for the pursuit of truth in
documentary film. “Truth isn’t guaranteed by style or expression. It isn’t guaranteed by anything,” he
famously warned. The Thin Blue Line demonstrated that the reality effect favoured by cinema verité was not
necessary and had become a deceptive cliché. This did much to open up documentary practice to a wider
range of styles and techniques. (One could argue, for instance, that the acceptance of animation in such
documentaries as 2008’s Waltz with Bashir owes something to this new attitude.) Yet this new freedom and
corresponding lack of guarantees also demand an exceptional rigour. What is perhaps most remarkable about
The Thin Blue Line is this double achievement, this double renewal: first, a serious critique of the
established aesthetic of documentary that freed filmmakers to choose from a far richer array of
representational methods; second, reestablishing the viability and even centrality of truth value to
documentary in a way that impacted the public sphere and society at large.

Paradoxically, by embracing an array of techniques associated with fiction film, Morris did not undermine
the distinction between fiction and documentary but rather distinguished more clearly the documentary
mode from its fictional counterpart, while giving documentary a new vitality, rigour, and importance. The
Thin Blue Line represented something of an epistemological break for Morris from the absurdist
ruminations of his previous two efforts. Irony and quirky experimentation have remained in abundance in
his work, but his subsequent documentary endeavours have generally taken on important topics with a
seriousness of purpose and mastery that emerged with The Thin Blue Line.

Period. The end of sentence: If you are an urban Indian woman, chances are that you’ve been asked at
some point to desist from touching or staining or entering spaces while on your period. Temples and other
religious sites are off limits. In certain homes, so are kitchens. This is such a normalised phenomenon, that
most Indian women will not blink at it. When buying pads at the local store, chances are that the owner has
wrapped the pack in newspaper so your period will remain private, not to be carried or seen out in the open.
In Bengal, even today, albeit under protest by feminists, the term “shorir kharap,” or sickness, is colloquial
phrasing for menstruation. In the Indian rural context, a period may be considered a curse or the onset of
shame, to be covered up at all costs, rendering a woman unclean. And while times are changing and Indian
women are in open and often defiant celebration of their bodies, the conversation in villages and smaller
towns has only just begun.

A new documentary by Rayka Zehtabchi, Period. End of Sentence, has been nominated for an Oscar this
year, in the shorts category. Zehtabchi, 25, is of Iranian-American descent, raised in Southern California.
The film follows a group of women in rural Hapur district, outside of Delhi, India, as they transition from
crippling shame at their own menstrual cycles to creating the beginnings of a microeconomy, based on a
low-cost sanitary napkin machine. Arunachalam Muruganantham, an entrepreneur from Tamil Nadu,
famously created the pad machine to spare his wife the trauma of having to reuse unhygienic rags for her
period. This is not the stuff of rom-coms, however—Shanti was displeased at her pioneering husband’s
interest in her or anyone else’s period, and the couple fought vigorously over his desire to have her
experiment with pads. In her experience, men were excluded from any conversation around the
gynaecological properties of women’s bodies. Anything else invited unwelcome attention.

Prior to Zehtabchi’s team entering their lives, the women of Hapur had little idea what pads were, and
certainly did not have the resources to afford them. For Zehtabchi, this was a sea-change in perspective. “We
have entire aisles for pads and tampons when we go to stores,” she observes. “We don’t think about it
because it is at our disposal. When I went to India, we heard about [rural] women using rags and leaves and
even ashes to deal with their period. They were dropping out of schools, hiding from society, seriously
hindered by this. It was a huge cultural difference.”

In 2013, a group of female students at Oakwood, a North Hollywood private school, found themselves in a
unique position. One of them, Helen Yenser, had visited a United Nations Commission on the Status of
Women that focused on the impact of taboos around menstruation on women in countries such as
Afghanistan, India and Nigeria. Girls in these chapter schools were dropping out because of their lack of
access to feminine hygiene products and the trauma that ensued as a result. When Yenser and her mother,
Melissa Berton (a high school English teacher at Oakwood and, like Yenser and the other Oakwood
students, a producer on the project), returned from the trip, they wanted to raise funds for pad machines.
Berton also suggested that the team make a documentary. Says Yenser, “People in the activist world
wondered why we would pour money into a film instead of the machine. We could make a film and have
one machine or instead, have three or four machines. My mom had the foresight to see that if we made a
good film, we might raise money for eight machines.”

Producer Garret Schiff is father to Ruby Schiff, one of the Oakwood students involved in the pad project
(both Schiffs are producers on the film). During their time as film students at USC, Zehtabchi and her
boyfriend and creative partner, Sam Davis (editor and cinematographer on the film), had worked with Garret
Schiff on a project. Soon after Rayka’s graduation, Schiff called her to pitch the documentary. “I didn’t
hesitate,” says Zehtabchi. “My first official Pad Project meeting for the film was walking into a room of
high school girls who were going to be my executive producers. It was a really cool experience because I’m
a young female filmmaker and I felt very connected to the girls and their journey of activist work.”

In the first few minutes of Period. End of Sentence, two pre-teen girls from Hapur melt into giggles of
embarrassment at having to discuss their period. The older women exhibit quiet rage at having to live lives
of seclusion, away from a pervasive male gaze, because of their period. Zehtabchi’s oldest female subject,
at least 60, calls it dirty blood and a mysterious illness. Then, Zehtabchi captures the arrival of the pad
machine in Hapur. The women are equal parts terrified and eager—the men have been told that it is a
machine that makes diapers for children. Once trained, the women make enough pads for personal use as
well as commercial sale, quickly evolving into a small business. This is no small impact, onscreen or in its
message. “It was crazy that we saw a real-time transition and shift,” Zehtabchi remarks. “I would never have
expected that we would come back to India, six months after my first trip, and see that the women had made
about 18,000 pads that they were trying to package and market. They were whispering about the pads to
their aunts and sisters and friends. That was when they started to open up. I think the presence of the pad
machine and our efforts at opening up the conversation reassured them that it was okay to talk about
periods.”

Filmmaker Rayka Zehtabchi

Filmmaker Rayka Zehtabchi

The Oakwood girls and Zehtabchi say that they were aware that they were making a film about a foreign
culture, from what may be a position of privilege. Zehtabchi observes, “We were filming people telling us
things that they don’t want to be talking about, so we were always trying to not be invasive, especially with
the camera. And in the edit. For example, we walked into a co-ed classroom, unannounced, in India. The
teacher asked the 15-year-old students if anyone could tell her what menstruation was. And there’s a shot in
the film of a young girl who’s called upon, and she stands up completely petrified. In the film, there is about
30 seconds where she literally cannot say a word. In real life we got about three minutes of footage of her
where it seemed like she was going to faint. It was so hard to watch and realise that the shame was so
painful. In the edit, part of you wants to indulge in the drama of it and continue that shot for as long as you
can. And then you realise what it is to be respectful and sensitive and not exploit them.” Echoes Yenser, “I
never wanted it to be a film that said, ‘Look at these poor women, at this backward village.’The United
States also has issues with menstruation and stigma around it. When we added pads and tampons to
low-income schools in New York, attendance went up. When I saw the film, it was a relief.”
Yenser, currently a screenwriting student at USC, describes an incident in one of her MFA classes. "As part
of an introduction, we were asked to name an interesting extracurricular that we did,” she recounts. “I said,
‘My name is Helen and my extracurricular is this documentary about periods.’ The reaction I essentially got
was, ‘That's so weird.’ I was asked to have a better lead-in to that because there were guys in this classroom
who may not be comfortable with me talking about my period. It reminded me that I had been advertising
this film for seven years and I forget that some people may not be as comfortable.”

Period. End of Sentence is visually rich, with the shawls and tapestries and faces of wintertime in Hapur.
This is Zehtabchi’s first documentary, a medium in which making cinematic choices while trying to capture
moments of truth before they are lost is notoriously challenging. “My background and training is in narrative
storytelling with tight story structure and character arcs,” she explains. “When I came to this potential
documentary idea, I knew that I wanted a beautiful film that took audiences on a journey with these
characters, rather than a straight journalistic treatment.” Zehtabchi speaks no Hindi, the language of the film.
Both she and Berton testify to the enormous aid extended to them by Action India, a grassroots feminist
organization in India, for the three years that it took to get the requisite permissions for filming. For
Zehtabchi in particular, the value of a local producer and translator—in this case, Mandakini Kakar—was
invaluable. “Mandy would conduct interviews and break every ten minutes to give us a quick
summary,”Zehtabchi recalls. “We would pivot based on those responses. I would have detailed
conversations with her and map out an outline of all the points that I wanted to hit in the film or topics I
wanted to dig deeper into.”

Zehtabchi and Kakar, after dozens of interviews, secured subjects whose anger and strength shine through
the film. Central to the narrative is Sneha, an aspiring police officer, who would like to be saved from the
prospect of marriage, and like the other women, remains fearful of the reactions that the film might get,
especially from the men in their lives. This fear was dispelled only after a joyous first screening. “It was
hard enough to film in a foreign country, but harder to film a painfully taboo topic, in a village,” Zehtabchi
observes. “We were often surrounded by a crowd, mostly men, obviously interested in what we were doing.
It was important to protect the women and yet navigate this intimate topic. Mandakini was a wonderful
producer, and that was key because we were making such a low-budget film and didn’t have much time to
film in the villages. For me, after a certain period of time and spending time with the women and talking to
them through Mandy, things began to fall into place. I could put myself in their shoes—times in my life
where I’ve been afraid of something and it’s held me back. It was heartbreaking to see that the thing that was
holding them back is really the thing that gives them strength and should be empowering them.”

Zehtabchi and Davis returned to Los Angeles to edit their film in true low-budget style—in their apartment.
This was a period of collaboration with the Oakwood students and Berton, who watched cuts and provided
feedback, both positive and dissenting. For a final version, another Oakwood parent came on board, editor
Doug Blush, who is also credited as an executive producer on the film. (Another Oakwood parent and
producer on the film is prominent publicist and Oscar campaign strategist Lisa Taback.) Berton describes the
film’s journey as “kismet-y”: “Everybody was inspired by her or his daughter. Gary Schiff came on because
he was moved by his daughter; Lisa Taback, by her daughter; Guneet Monga [the acclaimed Indian
producer], by Stacey Sher’s daughter. I think it’s been the students’ bravery and their willingness to be
front-and-centre about a topic that’s still touchy in the United States. Here were a bunch of high school
students saying that girls and women should be free to talk about their period. I think they were so
irresistible that their parents came on board to help. One of the parents was our accountant.”

The film is a beginning of a universal, extended conversation that one hopes that Zehtabchi and the
Oakwood students will utilise their reach and access to continue, both in the rural and urban context, across
countries. The Oscars are a leap towards some of that awareness, and the girls of Oakwood, the women of
Hapur and Zehtabchi will attend with their team. Notes Yenser, “It’s like Suman says in the film:
‘Everything in the patriarchy takes time.’ I’ve always loved that line because I feel like the same thing can
be said of the United States, or really any society.”

The great hack: There’s a moment in the Netflix documentary “The Great Hack” where someone brings up
controversial social experiments like Dr. Philip Zimbardo’s Stanford Prison Experiment. These were
psychological projects meant to test the limits of human nature, empathy and good old fashioned common
sense. They measured how far the deck needed to be stacked before the observed subjects voluntarily went
along with an authority they knew better than to follow. Sometimes the results unearthed a dormant evil in a
person, but more often than not, when participants were interviewed, they revealed a desire to be rewarded
for following instructions and a fear of being ostracised if they had not.

Directors Karim Amer and Jehane Noujaim keep this revelation running under the surface of their film.
Their narrator is David Carroll, a media professor whose international lawsuit serves as the jumping off
point. “The Great Hack” blends in details about how the many strides in computer technology and data
analysis now allow a massive, global expansion of a new type of social experiment, one that involves
reshaping the world in a particular image. Here, social media becomes the new Petri dish, enticing users
with hot trends and ideas that demand immediate consumption and acceptance lest the user risk being left
behind. Facebook and Twitter have so easily exploited this notion in the culture that the term “fear of
missing out” was coined to describe it. It was only a matter of time before someone applied this to politics
and elections.

“The Great Hack” concerns itself with the United States Presidential election of 2016 and, to a lesser extent,
the Brexit vote and other international political campaigns. The common factor in all these events is a
now-defunct firm called Cambridge Analytica, represented throughout the film by several former
employees. At the height of its powers, the company held up to 5,000 data points about each of the people
contained in its databases. This information was used for a variety of purposes meant to manipulate a certain
cross-section of people. The master manipulators didn’t go after people whose minds had been made up;
they went after on-the-fence folks referred to as “the persuadables.” Using the collected data, Cambridge
Analytica set out to create fear and/or apathy to achieve the results of the political parties that hired them.
Carroll’s lawsuit is an attempt to retrieve the data collected on him.

And how did the thousands of points of data wind up in those databases? Well, you willingly gave it to them,
dear readers. Remember those seemingly innocent Facebook quizzes that you took to determine what
Disney villain you were, or whether you were an introvert or any other goofy question you couldn’t wait to
have answered so you could share it with friends online? Those little diversions asked specific questions that
were used to harvest data. Based on this and other information gleaned from Facebook posts and the friends
with whom you associated on that platform, the data analysis tools used artificial intelligence and
evaluations to create a startlingly accurate profile of you. Carroll asks his class if they ever think their phone
is listening in on them because the ads they see seem perfectly tailored for them. Everyone says yes. Carroll
tells them that this manufactured profile is why.

Providing a look into the inner workings of Cambridge Analytica are Christopher Wylie, a programmer and
data analyst who worked on numerous algorithms and Brittany Kaiser, one of the brightest stars at the
company. A former intern for the Obama campaign, Kaiser comes up with the idea to handle the GOP side
of the 2016 election. Someone tells us that Cambridge chose the Republican side of the equation because,
unlike the Democrats, they won’t verify anything they’re told online. While Kaiser provides some very
interesting information, the film doesn’t really hold her accountable. It sees her as a whistleblower, but it
never interrogates that she’s also blowing the whistle on herself. This is one of the bigger flaws in “The
Great Hack.”

The film’s biggest strength, however, is its ability to lay out a timeline for the events that would eventually
doom Cambridge Analytica, from the time it’s discovered that it has been collecting data to the moment its
CEO Alexander Nix pleads guilty the criminal charge filed by the United Kingdom Information
Commissioner regarding Carroll’s lawsuit. Assisting us is reporter Carole Cadwalladr, who wrote a series of
articles for The Guardian. Cadwalladr is the most charismatic figure in “The Great Hack” and her
explanations are clear and concise. Sometimes, she’s as surprised as we are about the testimony we see.
Some of that testimony includes Kaiser and other members of Cambridge in London and Mark Zuckerberg’s
appearance before Congress.

This is sure to be a controversial documentary, not just because it sees Brexit and the GOP Presidential
campaign involvement with Cambridge Analytica as a sinister, almost military-grade level of psychological
warfare against an unsuspecting public, but because it also highlights how large groups of people can easily
be led to vote against their own interests. There’s a too-brief section focusing on the “Do So” campaign in
Trinidad and Tobago, where social media was flooded with catchy graphics and slogans designed to foster
apathy in folks who would vote for the side not allegedly in cahoots with Cambridge. The Do So campaign
made it seem cool not to vote at all, so many young people did not. As with the American campaign, the
bombardment of ads and demonising and false news stories was relentless.

“The Great Hack” will be catnip for data wonks and mathematicians, but I sense its desired purpose is to be
a cautionary tale for the general viewer. I think it’s a tad too long and a bit too wishy-washy when it should
be angrier, but I was fascinated by it for a very specific personal reason. I have been a computer programmer
for 32 years now, 17 of those years have involved some form of data analysis not unlike some of the things I
saw in this film. Over time, I’ve learned how valuable data can be to a business or an entity like a retail
chain. How that data can be used to determine what items are considered “impulse buys,” that is, the stuff
you see near the register. Or how sales during happy hour can be useful to a beer company in terms of
deciding when to show up at your local hangout to do in-person promotions. It’s all about how we’re so
easily swayed toward a desired outcome.

I’m always yelling at people to read the damn software agreements before using an app to see what data
they’re collecting from you and how much access they have. I’m always saying, “kick Alexa’s nosy ass out
of the house. And Siri’s too.” I’ve gotten quite a rep as a computer-based Cassandra amongst my friends.
And yet, I’m somewhat guilty just by virtue of being on Facebook and Twitter even if I avoid many of the
pitfalls. At the end of “The Great Hack,” Carroll asks if he’s capable of being manipulated. It’s the wrong
question. The right question is how willing are we to continue being manipulated, and can we at least profit
in some fashion from all that data we’re handing over for free?

We’re told that tech companies are the richest businesses in the world, and since data is the hottest
commodity on the market, they’ll do anything to get it. That we don’t know what’s being done with our data
is the scariest aspect of all this. “The Great Hack” hammers that point home quite successfully, even if it
doesn’t have the guts to chastise us for our voluntary contributions.

Q1. “What is fitting to documentary and what is not, change over time” Critically analyse the
statement (Probably will not come)
Ans: https://sci-hub.ee/10.1080/14682753.2014.892698

Polish writer and filmmaker Bolesław Matuszewski was among those who identified the mode of
documentary film. He wrote two of the earliest texts on cinema Une nouvelle source de l'histoire (eng. A
New Source of History) and La photographie animée (eng. Animated photography). Both were published in
1898 in French and among the early written works to consider the historical and documentary value of the
film. Matuszewski is also among the first filmmakers to propose the creation of a Film Archive to collect
and keep safe visual materials.

The word "documentary" was coined by Scottish documentary filmmaker John Grierson in his review of
Robert Flaherty's film Moana (1926), published in the New York Sun on 8 February 1926, written by "The
Moviegoer" (a pen name for Grierson). Grierson's principles of documentary were that cinema's potential for
observing life could be exploited in a new art form; that the "original" actor and "original" scene are better
guides than their fiction counterparts to interpreting the modern world; and that materials "thus taken from
the raw" can be more real than the acted article. In this regard, Grierson's definition of documentary as
"creative treatment of actuality" has gained some acceptance, with this position at variance with Soviet
film-maker Dziga Vertov's provocation to present "life as it is" (that is, life filmed surreptitiously) and "life
caught unawares" (life provoked or surprised by the camera).

The American film critic Pare Lorentz defines a documentary film as "a factual film which is dramatic."
Others further state that a documentary stands out from the other types of non-fiction films for providing an
opinion, and a specific message, along with the facts it presents. Documentary practice is the complex
process of creating documentary projects. It refers to what people do with media devices, content, form, and
production strategies to address the creative, ethical, and conceptual problems and choices that arise as they
make documentaries. Documentary filmmaking can be used as a form of journalism, advocacy, or personal
expression.

All these definitions may provide a different definition of the term but all these definitions indicate that
documentaries are based on facts. Thus, “documentaries by definition must be non-fiction. Commentary and
opinions are allowed, but misrepresentation is not” (Layton, 2010). But in the last couple of decades, with
the success of filmmakers such as Michael Moore, there have been certain changes in documentary making.
“Firstly, some documentary filmmakers now aim for commercial success when they create a film; and
second, in a development related to the first issue, some documentary films are in fact fictionalised to some
extent through misrepresentation and omission” (Layton, 2010). Again Moore can be the best example of
this change in documentary making. His movies such as ‘Bowling for Columbine’ and ‘Fahrenheit 9/11’
have several clips which have been manipulated/edited in a manner to provide a meaning different from the
actual meaning of the speaker. Moore’s work will still be categorised as documentary because his clips are
still from facts but the representation is manipulated to give a different meaning- sometimes completely out
of context. Thus, Moore’s work is a mix of fact and fiction but still categorised as documentary.

A new debate has surfaced in the same context in recent years. While the puritans have described the
making of docudramas as corruption of the documentary genre, there are several other experts who suggest
that “the act of recording the “truth” on film is fictionalising in and of itself” (Layton, 2010). According to
the latter, when a documentary maker captures anything from a certain angle, he/she is actually using his/her
own bias. When it comes to putting together the filmed content, the filmmaker faces a critical choice of what
to keep and what to leave out. In such situations the filmmaker is likely to put together content so as to make
something meaningful out of it. But the critics argue that because part of filmed content is left out which
means that the documentary cannot be a complete representation of the truth and hence is fiction itself. But
according to my view, this cannot be termed a fiction. We must note the distinction between the filmmakers
who filter out the content due to constraints but still try to provide as accurate a view of the case and then
there are filmmakers who deliberately edit the content so as to mislead the audience. While the former is a
documentary in all respects, there can be a debate over whether the latter can be categorised as a
documentary.

Bakker (2002) provides an interesting analysis of the distinction between documentary and fiction
filmmaking. He suggests three key points: First the clearness of the audio and visual information. Second,
one side of the relation between the information and reality. Third, spectators play a vital role by imposing
the pictures on them.

Q2. Define documentary. How is it different from a fiction film?

Ans: A documentary film or documentary is a non-fictional motion-picture intended to "document reality,

primarily for the purposes of instruction, education or maintaining a historical record". Bill Nichols has
characterised the documentary in terms of "a filmmaking practice, a cinematic tradition, and mode of
audience reception a practice without clear boundaries"

Early documentary films, originally called "actuality films", lasted one minute or less. Over time,
documentaries have evolved to become longer in length, and to include more categories. Some examples are
educational, observational and documentary. Documentaries are very informative, and are often used within
schools as a resource to teach various principles. Documentary filmmakers have a responsibility to be
truthful to their vision of the world without intentionally misrepresenting a topic.

Generally speaking there is a clear distinction between documentaries and fiction films and a viewer should
be able to tell whether what he is watching is fiction or documentary. The clearest distinction between the
two is their relationship with the reality; “a fiction film presents a story that is not based on reality, or at least
not in the form it is represented; a documentary, however, tells something about the reality of our world –
shows us the real world” (Bakker, 2002).

There are several cases where it is difficult to draw distinction between fact and fiction. Even the experts fail
to make this distinction sometimes as can be seen by the case of ‘The Sea that Thinks’ which “won the Joris
Ivens award at the International Documentary Film festival Amsterdam, and was within a year in the
competition for fiction films of the Dutch Film Festival” (Bakker, 2002). Conceptually there is a significant
difference between documentaries and fiction films. Traditionally, documentaries are generally short films
and are based on facts while fiction films are not (or are at least not claimed to be) based on facts. This
traditionalist view of documentaries has changed slightly in recent years with directors such as Michael
Moore providing documentaries which are heavily edited and hence not entirely based on facts.

From a structural perspective the documentary is dawdling rapidity editing while the fiction films depend
strongly on editing with fast rate editing. The shot in the documentary is a close up and extremely close up
shots whereas; fiction films rely on wide shots. The numerous moving camera, sound formed in the studio
and theatrical music in the fiction films but the contrary in documentary films like location sounds and
infrequently roving cameras (Etizen, 1995; Huston and Wright, 1983) also, Nichols and Kochberg said that
the documentary could distinguished by the voice-of-god commentary, interviews, scene sound recording
and the absolute dependence on social actors(Kochberg, 2002) which is support the documentary
tremendously in the documentary filmmaking process, one of the characteristics of this type of filmmaking.
However, Renov argues that narration and musical complement could be included in the documentary films
(Renov ,1993a). In other words a film is constructed of several attributes including sound, images, dialogues
and written texts. Documentary and fiction film, both are audio visual media and contain all these attributes.
The difference, however, lies in the manner in which these are communicated to the viewer. This is a unique
language which can convey an endless number of meanings to the viewer. This language was termed as
“passe-partout” by Hjelmslev (1968). The grammar of this language is related to viewers’ understanding and
is not formalised. This means that a movie can be made in any manner possible without conflicting the
established practices. However; the more distant a film is from the mainstream, the less it will correspond to
the industry’s dogmas and conventions of filmmaking.

Another characteristic in the difference is the actors for the fiction films do what they are asked to do. The
process of the filmmaking is defined by their performance in the acting by transmigrating the required role.
The actors do their responsibilities on the basis of the contracted relationship, as a result the filmmaker has
the validity to object on the performance of the actors and the actors will be praised on the good
performance and his performance will determine the actor’s value. On the other hand, the documentary
looks at the people as social actors, ordinary people who behave and carry on their social daily life without
any affect or artificiality. They don’t have a contract to behave in a certain manner, the people or the actors
present their daily handling and their pure personality. Baddeley supported Nichols’s words that people
should be encouraged to perform naturally and do not integrate the artificiality in their behaviour and they
act autonomously, However he mentioned that on many occasions the professional actors must be involved
to organise the natural appearance of the people (Baddeley, 1981).

Nichols (1991) has categorised the documentaries itself in four different categories with each one containing
its own sub genre:

Expository

This style of documentary is basically a series of visual images complete with narration. It is a very
traditional form of documentary with the narrator giving the viewer a series of facts and figures that
accompany the visuals and is usually associated with wildlife or historical programmes for example.

Observational

This style of documentary is also known as ‘cinema veritè 'or ‘fly on the wall’. Its aim is to film events, on
camera, as they happen. To film people and places and to represent the everyday life of the people, as if the
camera wasn’t there at all. The viewers are usually left to draw their own conclusions about what is
happening. The filmmakers do not intervene in any way and it is meant to represent the facts and record
people and events in ‘real time’.

Interactive

The interactive style of the documentary covers the facts and figures but allows the presenter to interact with
the people within the documentary. This particular style could contain a series of interviews or
demonstrations and could also come across as being quite biassed, in that certain parts of the documentary
can be edited to influence the viewer's reaction or thoughts on the matter in question.

Reflective or Reflexive
This style of documentary basically shows the viewer everything. The filmmakers themselves are usually
seen on camera attempting to raise the consciousness of the audience themselves. It gives the impression
that the people making the documentary are able to construct reality itself.

Citizen Kane (1941), by Orson Welles is a commentary form of fiction film, while the Salesman, by the
Maysles brothers is a form of Observational fiction film. Similarly, C’est arrivée près de chez vous (1992)
by Remy Belvaux is an example of interactive fiction film. At the same time Bakker (2002) agrees that
interactive mode is least commonly used in fiction films while observational mode is the most commonly
used mode. However; the distinction becomes less apparent in the reflexive mode. According to Nichols
(1991), “in its most paradigmatic form the reflexive documentary prompts the viewer to a heightened
consciousness of his or her relation to the text and of the text’s problematic relationship to that which it
represents”. Similarly Metz (1991) states that “the film speaks to us about itself or about cinema in general,
or about the position of the spectator. And this is how this kind of doubling manifests itself in the text,
which, in all theories, constitutes that without which we cannot imagine the process of narrating”. It is thus,
in the reflexive mode that Metz (1991) domain of fictional films and Nichols’s (1991) domain of
documentaries overlap.

Another aspect of the discourse on distinction between documentaries and fiction films is the contract
between the viewer and the director. Bakker (2002) argues that since structural factors fail to clearly
distinguish between documentaries and fiction films, there has to be some other form of distinction. This,
according to him, is the viewer’s interpretation which is often affected by the viewer’s pact with the
filmmaker. The filmmaker thus influences the interpretation of the film as the documentary or fiction film
and the ultimate judgement of interpretation rests with the viewer.

Bakker (2002) refers to what Eco (1979) termed as the “inferential walks”. According to this, the viewer
compares the film with his real life experiences and tries to prepare his story. This construction process is
dynamic as the viewer continues to accommodate the developments in the story to reconstruct his own story
as the film progresses. Thus, the viewer is a part of the film. The difference between documentaries and
fiction films is that in the former, the viewer’s participation is explicit (through narration) while in fiction
films it is not explicit.

The filmmaker’s attempt is to make the viewer believe that what is shown in the film is a possibility (in case
of fiction film) or a reality (in case of documentary). To do so he adopts several persuasive
techniques/strategies. But the viewer has his own memory and interpretations on which he/she accepts or
rejects the possibility/reality of what is shown in the film. For creating “specific effects of reality, the
filmmaker uses cinematographic techniques and narrative strategies. Cinematographic techniques include
techniques like camera movements, the use of colour, the photographic grain of the film, the use of
commentary, the gaze into the lens of the camera by the characters” (Bakker, 2002). The competence of the
director rests in whether he/she can make the viewer believe in what he/she is showing. There is, however;
no guarantee that a viewer will accept his film as a possibility/reality.

Q3. Trace the origin and evolution of the observational Documentary.

Cinéma vérité is a style of documentary filmmaking developed by Edgar Morin and Jean Rouch, inspired by
Dziga Vertov's theory about Kino-Pravda. It combines improvisation with use of the camera to unveil truth
or highlight subjects hidden behind reality. It is sometimes called observational cinema, if understood as
pure direct cinema: mainly without a narrator's voice-over. There are subtle, yet important, differences
between terms expressing similar concepts. Direct Cinema is largely concerned with the recording of events
in which the subject and audience become unaware of the camera's presence: operating within what Bill
Nichols, an American historian and theoretician of documentary film, calls the "observational mode", a fly
on the wall. Many therefore see a paradox in drawing attention away from the presence of the camera and
simultaneously interfering in the reality it registers when attempting to discover a cinematic truth.

Cinéma vérité can involve stylized set-ups and interaction between the filmmaker and the subject, even to
the point of provocation. Some argue that the obvious presence of the filmmaker and camera was seen by
most cinéma vérité filmmakers as the best way to reveal the truth. The camera is always acknowledged, for
it performs the act of filming real objects, people, and events in a confrontational way. The filmmaker's
intention was to represent the truth as objectively as possible, freeing the viewer from deceptions in how
those aspects of life were formerly presented to them. From this perspective, the filmmaker should be the
catalyst of a situation. Few agree on the meanings of these terms, even the filmmakers whose films are being
described.

Pierre Perrault sets situations up and then films them, for example in Pour la suite du monde (1963) where
he asked old people to fish for whales. The result is not a documentary about whale fishing; it is about
memory and lineage. In this sense cinéma vérité is concerned with anthropological cinema, and with the
social and political implications of what is captured on film. How a filmmaker shoots a film, what is being
filmed, what to do with what was filmed, and how that film will be presented to an audience, all were very
important for filmmakers of the time.

In all cases, the ethical and aesthetic analysis of documentary form of the 1950s and 1960s has to be linked
with a critical look at post-war propaganda analysis. This type of cinema is concerned with notions of truth
and reality in film. Feminist documentary films of the 1970s often used cinéma-vérité techniques. This sort
of "realism" was criticised for its deceptive pseudo-natural construction of reality.

The development of portable 16mm cameras and synch-sound equipment brought significant changes to
documentary film practice. Filmmakers now gained the ability to shoot with relative ease on location. The
new light weight and portability of cameras that before had been bulky and heavy meant that they no longer
had to be the centre of profilmic events, but could follow events as they happened. Filmmakers could enter a
situation directly, without having to alter events because of technological limitations, as had been the case
with, for example, Flaherty's camera in igloos. The tripod was abandoned, and the camera gained a new
mobility carried on the shoulder of the operator as filmmakers began to work in a mode Stephen Mamber
has called an "uncontrolled cinema." As further improvements were perfected, the tape recorder and the
camera, which before had been connected by a limiting cable, were able to operate entirely independently.
The crew required to make a documentary was reduced to only two people—one to operate the camera, the
other to record sound. In the case of Ross McElwee (b. 1947), whose films such as Sherman's March (1986)
and Bright Leaves (2003) are documentaries of his own life, the crew is just himself, shooting with a video
camera and attached microphone. With these technological advances, documentary film-making acquired a
freshness and immediacy, both visually and aurally; by contrast, the Griersonian tradition, which the new
style supplanted, typically used omniscient voice-over narration displaying ideological biases. As a result,
the documentary experienced a revitalization internationally, particularly in North America and Europe.

An entire generation of documentarians embraced the new observational style and valorized the technology.
Most advocated an unproblematic view of cinematic realism whereby the camera could apprehend the world
directly, penetrating even surface reality to reveal deeper truths. An American Family , a twelve-part series
by Craig Gilbert broadcast on public television in 1973, sought to capture the unadorned life of one
particular family and thus reveal the ordinary realities of middle-class American existence. In these
observational documentaries, the presence of the camera was not thought to affect the profilmic event to any
significant degree, and if it did, filmmakers could search for "privileged moments" that would reveal the real
person hiding behind the social facade. Perhaps the most extreme example of this approach was Portrait of
Jason (Shirley Clarke, 1967), a film consisting entirely of a series of talking-head closeups of an
unsuccessful actor who, fueled by alcohol, marijuana, and prodding questions from behind the camera, lets
down his smug intellectual persona and wallows in self-pity.

In Great Britain in the 1950s, filmmakers such as Tony Richardson (1928–1991), Lindsay Anderson
(1923–1994), and Karel Reisz (1926–2002) began making observational films of everyday life as part of the
movement known as Free Cinema, often focusing on common aspects of popular culture. The Free Cinema
movement consisted of six programs of films shown at the National Film Theater in London from 1956 to
1959, including Anderson's O Dreamland (1953), about the Margate amusement park, and Every Day
Except Christmas (1957), about activity in Covent Garden, and Reisz and Richardson's Momma Don't
Allow (1955), a portrait of a jazz club. In France, anthropologist-filmmaker Jean Rouch (1917–2004) made
a series of films about people and life in western Africa, often including their own voices on the soundtrack,
as in Les Maîtres fous ( The Mad Masters , 1955), which records devotees of a religious cult speaking in
tongues, and Jaguar (1967). Turning his camera closer to home, Rouch filmed a cross-section of Parisians in
Chronique d'un été ( Chronicle of a Summer , 1961), co-directed with the sociologist Edgar Morin. Rather
than being observant flies on the wall, the filmmakers appeared onscreen, functioning as catalysts by asking
their subjects provocative questions and freely interacting with them. The film was subtitled "une expérience
de cinéma vérité," and Rouch's assertive approach developed into the cinema verité style of observational
documentary. And in Canada in the early 1960s, both English- and French-speaking Canadian filmmakers
working for the National Film Board, founded by Grierson in 1939, concentrated on making films about
ordinary people and events in order to "interpret Canada to Canadians and the rest of the world." The
Board's initial focus was the production of wartime propaganda films, but in the early 1960s it was a pioneer
of observational documentary, both in its more passive direct cinema form in English Canada, with the films
of Terence Macartney-Filgate, Roman Kriotor, and Wolf Koenig, and, in Quebec, of cinéma vérité. Michel
Brault, who had photographed Chronique d'un été , co-directed with Gilles Groulx Les Raquetteurs ( The
Snowshoers , 1958), a film about an annual snowshoe race that was a breakthrough in the representation of
Quebecois life on the screen.

In New York in the 1960s, a group of young film-makers organised by Robert Drew (b. 1924) began making
films for Time, Inc., in an attempt to do a more truthful "pictorial journalism," as Louis de Rochemont had
said of The March of Time . Known as the Drew Associates, the group included many of the pioneering
figures of American observational cinema, including D. A. Pennebaker (b. 1925), Albert Maysles (b. 1926),
and Richard Leacock, who had been the cameraman on Flaherty's last film, Louisiana Story , in 1949. The
Drew Associates sought to be invisible observers of events transpiring before the camera—ideally, in
Leacock's famous phrase, like a "fly on the wall." Primary (1960), about the Wisconsin presidential
campaigns of John F. Kennedy and Hubert Humphrey, showed the candidates both in public appearances
and behind the scenes; and although it shows Kennedy as the more adept media personality, it avoids
explicit political comment. A famous shot in the film follows Kennedy as he emerges from a car and enters a
hall where he is about to speak, moving through a tightly packed crowd to the stage—all despite changing
conditions of light, sound, and depth of field. Impressed by Primary , ABC contracted with Time, Inc., so
that the Drew group became in effect a network unit. The Drew filmmakers made a series of nineteen
pioneering films for television, beginning with Primary and ending with Crisis: Behind a Presidential
Commitment in 1963.
Their films tended to favour famous and exciting figures as their subjects: a race car driver in Eddie
(Leacock and Pennebaker, 1960), film producer Joseph E. Levine in Showman (Albert and David Maysles,
1963), and pop stars in What's Happening! The Beatles in the U.S.A. (Maysles brothers, 1964). The
documentaries of their contemporary Frederick Wiseman (b. 1930) focus on institutions rather than
individuals, but his films were exceptions. Because celebrities, particularly pop-music stars, possess inherent
commercial appeal, when these and other filmmakers sought to make feature-length documentaries they
gravitated toward them as subjects; thus was created the "rockumentary" genre, with such films as
Woodstock (Michael Wadleigh, 1970) and The Last Waltz (Martin Scorsese, 1978). Perhaps the most
notorious of these is Gimme Shelter (1970), by Albert and David Maysles (1931–1987) and Charlotte
Zwerin, which focuses on the Rolling Stones' American tour. At the last concert of the tour, in Altamont,
California, a man in the audience was stabbed to death by the Hell's Angels—a sensational event caught on
camera. Because documentaries often purport to show the person behind the persona, they remain popular
with audiences, as the publicity surrounding Living with Michael Jackson: A Tonight Special (2003), which
aired on network television, demonstrates.

Q4. What do you understand about Montage editing? How is it different from Continuity editing?

Montage, in motion pictures, the editing technique of assembling separate pieces of thematically related film
and putting them together into a sequence. With montage, portions of motion pictures can be carefully built
up piece by piece by the director, film editor, and visual and sound technicians, who cut and fit each part
with the others.

Visual montage may combine shots to tell a story chronologically or may juxtapose images to produce an
impression or to illustrate an association of ideas. An example of the latter occurs in Strike (1924), by the
Russian director Sergey Eisenstein, when the scene of workers being cut down by cavalry is followed by a
shot of cattle being slaughtered. Montage may also be applied to the combination of sounds for artistic
expression. Dialogue, music, and sound effects may be combined in complex patterns, as in Alfred
Hitchcock’s Blackmail (1929), in which the word knife is repeated in the thoughts of a frightened girl who
believes she has committed murder.

Continuity editing is the process, in film and video creation, of combining more-or-less related shots, or
different components cut from a single shot, into a sequence to direct the viewer's attention to a pre-existing
consistency of story across both time and physical location. Often used in feature films, continuity editing,
or "cutting to continuity", can be contrasted with approaches such as montage, with which the editor aims to
generate, in the mind of the viewer, new associations among the various shots that can then be of entirely
different subjects, or at least of subjects less closely related than would be required for the continuity
approach. The technique of continuity editing, part of the classical Hollywood style, was developed by early
European and American directors, in particular, D.W. Griffith in his films such as The Birth of a Nation and
Intolerance. The classical style embraces temporal and spatial continuity as a way of advancing the
narrative, using such techniques as the 180 degree rule, Establishing shot, and Shot reverse shot. Often,
continuity editing means finding a balance between literal continuity and perceived continuity. For instance,
editors may condense action across cuts in a non-distracting way. A character walking from one place to
another may "skip" a section of floor from one side of a cut to the other, but the cut is constructed to appear
continuous so as not to distract the viewer.

Q5. Explain the importance of research in documentary filmmaking with appropriate examples.
All good documentaries require research. It’s a form of filmmaking that often seeks the truth of an event
based on factual evidence. As a documentarian, it is your job to gather that evidence and to inform and
educate your audience.

Research is essential to every documentary. It’s what will connect all the raw video footage you shoot or
gather into a coherent story. It will help you organise and plan out your documentary so you have an idea
where you want to take your project. In this article, we will walk you through the research process. That way
you’ll have a starting point when you dive into researching for your documentary.

First, form questions you want to answer

Oftentimes, documentaries centre around one main question. The question can be simple: who is this
person? Likely, this is a starting point for many biographical documentaries. You then can branch out. Start
asking deeper questions: What did this person do in his or her life? What was his or her crowning
achievement? What were some of his or her biggest struggles? Was this person tied to any major historical
events? As you ask questions, more will arise. It is important to keep asking questions because it’s likely
someone else will ask them when watching.

Ask questions that might not have an answer

Sometimes, you don’t even have to answer the questions you ask, leaving it up for interpretation. In the
documentary, Who Killed the Electric Car?, the central question of the entire documentary is in the title.
Viewers watch the documentary wanting to know the answer: who actually killed the electric car. While
watching, they are presented with facts and different viewpoints. In the end, however, it is up to the viewer
to answer the ultimate question of the film.

Balance the well-known information with the newly discovered

When asking questions, you’ll want to revisit some of the common knowledge around the subject to build a
strong foundation for the film. However, be sure to dig deeper so that you can include new information that
people don’t know. The point of a documentary is to inform the audience and uncover new perspectives.
Everyone will have different varying levels of knowledge on the topic. That’s why it’s important to put the
time and effort into finding information that isn’t as readily available — especially information that runs
counter to commonly held beliefs about the issue. In many ways, documentarians are detectives. They
investigate and discover the unknown.

Find sources to answer the questions you have

After you have articulated a few questions about your topic, it’s time to get to work. There are many
different ways you can acquire sources and information. Most of the time, they fall into these three
categories: written, visual or interpersonal.

Written
Written sources are the traditional way to acquire a lot of information fast. You can find many scholarly
articles on Google Scholar or your local library. When reading articles, be sure to look at all the sources
they’re referencing. Check the citations provided by each of your sources to verify information and dig
deeper into the subject matter. Even the references at the end of a Wikipedia article can provide guidance.

As you spend more time researching, you will likely find new information you never considered. 5-time
Emmy Award winner Ken Burns says when it comes to archival research, more is more. It’s typical to
collect up to 40 times the amount of material you plan to use in your film. You will only be able to find your
documentary’s story if you have sufficient information to sift through and piece together.

Visual
Depending on your topic of choice, there could be tons of archival footage you can dig up. For instance, if
your documentary is following a political controversy, there’s bound to be loads of videos of interviews,
news reports and public reaction to the event. Thanks to the internet, it is easy to find past footage of events.
Use archival video for research as well as potential footage you can use in your documentary.

Interpersonal
Talk to as many people as possible. This is where a lot of interesting, unknown information might come out.
You can try identifying key people and reaching out to them or you can attend rallies, meetups or
conferences pertaining to your topic. There you can meet people important to your research and hear them
speak.

Never stop researching

It’s wrong to think that the researching process stops once you start filming. It is essential you continue to
look for information during and after production. Oftentimes, while you’re in the middle of the production,
new information will surface. The creation of documentaries is full of discoveries. You have to be open to
these discoveries and explore them even when you think you have all that you need to make your film.

The key to making a great documentary film is research. In this genre, accuracy is as important as aesthetics.
To acquire the truth, you need to put in the work and find sources that contribute to a deeper understanding
of the subject matter.

Q6. What are the essential elements of a documentary script? Explain

1. Finding the Story You’re Meant to Tell

Why documentary? What are you hoping to convey? Why are you the perfect person to tell this story? These
are all questions you answer in a pitch in order to be greenlit by producers and executive producers.
Answering them first for yourself can lead you to a story you feel passionate about and are thus able to see
through the long process of documentary filmmaking. Once answered, you begin the arduous task of looking
deeper into material that will lead you to the story and ultimately, the script.

2. Research, Research, Research

Research is the most important phase of Pre-production and is the foundation of your script. Often, when we
begin looking at a topic, others have come before us. This means that we need to dig deeper into the subject
in order to not only inform but also surprise the audience. This surprise is key to creating an interesting
story. If you’re looking for experts, one of the ways to find them is to search for books on the topic and then
approach the authors. They may simply become “advisors” – people who can provide key background
information and fact-checkers. They may also turn into interviewees, on-camera experts who elevate the
believability factor. Whichever role they assume, their input is important to create the skeletal form that you
then flesh out with “story” as you develop your outline.

3. Blueprint Your Documentary

This is the time to organise and plan how the story will be transmitted to your audience. This can be in the
form of an outline most commonly expressed in a set of “sequences”. These are detailed scenes to show how
the film may play out. When you have this sequence outline clear in your head, shooting the frame is much
easier because you already know what you want. This sequence outline follows the natural narrative spine of
storytelling which is broken into acts which culminate in the overall message that you are trying to convey.
There may be some tweaking along the way, but the sequence outline is there as a guide.

4. Writing the Script

The first column is optional and is used by some filmmakers as a guide to the arc of the narrative. Video and
Audio columns are the standard and they are formatted so that the visuals line up with the audio (interview,
narration, music, etc.) that plays over them.

A sample documentary script

You must work backwards. It is the only way to write a documentary script. Once you have collected your
research, data, and interviews, only then can you write the script. Without research, it would be impossible
to conceive what an interviewee is going to say and how that ties into your message. Once you have all of
the facts and materials, then you can sit down and write the script and voice-overs.

5. Compel Your Viewer

Viewers want to connect with your project. Zeroing in on protagonists to highlight compelling personal
stories will enthral viewers. Emotionally, your viewers will open up and understand the complexity of the
issue while making the issue entirely relatable. Every viewer wants to be transported somewhere else, look
through fresh eyes, learn something new, and then be motivated and moved by this information.

6. Declare Your Point Of View

Presenting the facts and reality isn’t always clean cut and unbiased. That isn’t to say that directors and
producers spin a project a certain way but there is information that stays in a documentary and information
that is cut. So, what is it that you want your documentary to transmit? When your thematic message is
well-defined, putting the entire script and production together is much easier and it is clearer to the audience
regardless of whether or not they agree. They can still connect because of the clarity of the message. At the
very least, the audience is given something to think about moving forward. As a director/writer/producer,
you can be flexible and allow your story to unfold even if it’s not in the precise direction that you thought it
would go.

7. Finesse Your Project

Be thorough with your writing and voice-overs. Writing and rewriting the script is part of the process as you
continue to define your message and refine the story. If you are using a narrator, you may have to readjust to
your narrator’s style. Sometimes while you are fact checking, there may be some discrepancies so you want
to make sure that everything you are presenting to the viewer is accurate and reflected in the rewriting
process.

Documentaries aren’t an observation of humanity, but rather an opening door into our nature, into what
drives us, what makes us fill with joy and weep with sorrow. Documentaries are real, with real people and
dealing with real issues that are powerful and hit us at our core. Let your writing reflect those deep, moving
messages and capture your audience emotionally.

Q7. Describe various stages of documentary film making.

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https://www.wrapbook.com/blog/how-to-make-a-documentary

Tell a story you care about

Start with a subject that excites you. If you’re lukewarm about the subject matter, chances are, the final
movie will be too. Make a documentary you're passionate about and makes sense to YOU. There will be
plenty of people who don’t “get” your idea. But if YOU get it, that’s what counts. Need help finding a story
idea?

Research
Learn everything you can about your documentary subject. Sometimes the story lines are obvious,
sometimes not. Do a lot of digging and follow leads. This is where you put on your reporter hat. Gather facts
and search for leads on interesting characters and story lines. The gems of your story are sometimes buried
deep out of sight.

Make a Plan
Create an outline. Think about HOW you’re going to tell your story. What’s the structure? The style? Is
there existing footage or photos that help tell your story or will everything need to be shot brand new? Who
is your primary character(s)? What are your core story points? What are the elements of your story that are
compelling and/or make you “tingle” with intrigue? How can you create that intrigue for your audience? Is
there some existing situation you can film or do you need to create the moment?

For Detailed Planning:

● Documentary Budget Template

● Documentary Proposal Template
● Find Money For Your Documentary

Create a Shot List

This is a list of the footage and interviews you’ll need to make your movie. Think of it as your list of
“ingredients”. Depending on the complexity of your project, you may or may not need to create a budget.

A word about interviews. You may be tempted to put a lot of people on your interview wish list. Again,
there are no rules because each documentary has its own set of circumstances (maybe there’s a reason to
interview 100 people), but in general, it’s hard for an audience to get to know more than 7-8 “characters”
within one movie. So even if you interview 100 people, don’t be surprised if you are only able to fit a
fraction of them into your movie. Of course, there’s always the Bonus Features section on your DVD. ;)

film reel
Start Shooting
Are you making documentaries for the web, mobile devices, television, theatre? Maybe a combination?
Keep in mind HOW your movie will be viewed because that can dictate your shooting and storytelling style.
(Hint: tiny details off in the distance will not be seen on an iPhone). Make sure when you're shooting an
event to capture a variety of angles including close-ups, medium shots and wide shots. Click here for a list
of low-budget documentary filmmaking gear.

Write a Script
Once all of the footage is shot and you’ve gathered the various production elements, time to start organising
it into a script. Pinpoint the most compelling elements of your story and start crafting "mini-scenes" around
those events. Remember, a script isn't necessarily what's spoken or a voice-over. A script describes what the
audience is seeing AND hearing.

Begin Editing
This is actually one of my favourite parts of the process. It’s like putting together a great big puzzle! First
you'll need to choose your video editing computer and video editing software. Once you're all set with
equipment, you'll start putting down your clips of footage one right after the other in a sequence. The art
with editing is to create a "roller coaster" ride of emotion, some parts fast, some parts slow to create a
dynamic viewing experience.

Check Legal and Copyright Issues

Even though this is near the end of the list, it should actually be something you keep in mind from the very
beginning and throughout the ENTIRE filmmaking process. I cannot express enough the importance of this
section. Please read through these few simple legal guidelines before starting on your project.

Distribute!
Of course, now that you’ve done all the work making your documentary, you want people to see it, right?
Never before have there been so many options for filmmakers to showcase their work. From theatres to
television to DVD to the web, a new world of distribution is being invented right in front of our eyes.
Making documentaries and showcasing your work is easier than ever.

Q8. Explain the significance of treatment in telling your story effectively through a documentary. (will
not come)

https://www.rev.com/blog/write-documentary-treatments-with-transcription

Q9. Short notes

a. Verite Documentary

https://www.premiumbeat.com/blog/cinema-verite-documentary-filmmaking/

b. ‘Voice of God’

A term originating with Westbrook Van Voorhis’ narration in The March of Time, the Voice of God began as
an objective voice-over style for news coverage in radio and cinema. The ability for a voice to present
imagery and information from around the world, effectively manipulating space-time is an important
element to the voice.

The style adjusted over time to apply to movie trailers, film narration, voices with authority. However, it has
remained in the camp of male voice-over talents to fill roles attributed to The Voice of God, which seems
unfair.

https://www.voquent.com/what-is-the-voice-of-god-voice-over/

c. Imp of budgeting in documentary making

A film’s budget plays a dominant role throughout the film’s life cycle—with implications going far beyond
the mere cost of the film. Perhaps the most tangible aspect of a film’s budget is that the amount that
distributors will pay for a film is almost always calculated as a percentage of the budget (the “budget/sales
corollary”), regardless of the script, the cast or anything else.

For example, if two identical films with the same script and stars were made, and one was made for $50
million and one was made for $10 million, the one made for $50 million would typically sell for five times
more than the film made for $10 million. No kidding.

Thus, as a film’s budget increases, so do the prices distributors will pay for the film. There may be slight
variations, but not much. The first question asked by all distributors is: “What is the budget?” The higher the
budget, the more the film sells for, so there is a perverse tendency to inflate the cost of films. Producers
often increase the budget for a picture by tagging on additional inflated “producer fees” or “overhead
charges” for themselves, which are nothing more than a mark-up to the true cost of the film. When all else
fails, one irresistible tendency is to greatly exaggerate the true budget in order to jack up prices.
Another impact of the budget is that many related costs rise and fall with the amount of the budget. For
example, talent will charge far more on a big-budget film than they will for their identical services on a
low-budget film. Similarly, premiums paid to completion guarantors and insurance companies are calculated
as a percentage of the budget, not flat amounts, and every film budget includes a contingency for possible
excess costs, always expressed as a percentage of the budget—usually 10%. Finally, all the guilds have fee
structures that are higher for high-budget films.

The net result is that any proposed increase to a film’s budget has a ripple effect that can more than double
the proposed increase. As one stark example I worked on, a $20-million star was added to a $6-million film.
The budget of the film did not go to $26 million—it went to over $40 million. The good news was that
because of the budget/sales corollary, the pre-sales increased by more than enough to cover the increased
budget. Go figure.

Items Included within the Budget

In general, the budget includes all costs relating to the development, production, and post-production of a
film. Thus, the budget includes, for example, costs of acquiring the script, payments to talent, and
production costs. There are also several interesting inclusions and exclusions, discussed below.

Deferments and participation paid to talent are not included in the budget. For example, if talent is paid $20
million up front, that amount will be included in the budget. On the other hand, if talent forgoes the upfront
payment of $20 million in exchange for a much larger, albeit contingent, deferment or participation, the
budget will be reduced by $20 million. This, in turn, will have the completely crazy impact of reducing the
amount that the film can be sold for because of the budget/sales corollary.

The budget does include self-charged “producer fees” paid to the producer. When I first heard this, it really
threw me. For example, if a film that really cost $10 million were sold for $12 million, to me, the budget
was $10 million, and the producer had made a $2 million profit. I soon learned that the budget was really
$12 million, and the producer had received a “producer fee” of $2 million, which was included in the
budget. Again, the tentacles of the budget/sales corollary at work. Once I got my brain around this, the rest
was easy. Another way to view what is happening is that the producer is saying to whomever is financing the
film, “Please increase the financing by the amount of my producer fees, so that I can take out at least some
guaranteed level of profits up front. We will increase the budget by this amount, which should increase sales
necessary to repay you because of the budget/sales corollary.” Most financiers go along with this.

The budget almost always includes an artificial mark-up referred to as “overhead,” usually approximately
10%-15% of the budget. For example, if the budget is really $10 million, the producer will charge and retain
an additional $1.5 million to purportedly cover its overhead. As with producer fees, this is just a disguised
way of making a profit on the film. A more honest approach would be to say that the budget is $10 million,
but the producer wants to make at least $1.5 million of profit. Good luck.

There are several miscellaneous items that arguably should not be included as part of the budget, but are.
These include all financing costs, including interest and fees, all legal fees relating to the film through
completion, and the cost of the completion guarantee. However, the cost of delivery of the film print to
distributors is typically treated as a distribution cost, and is generally not included in the budget.
Every budget includes a contingency for potential excess costs, always expressed as a percentage of the
budget—usually 10%. The contingency is included in the budget for purposes of the budget/sales corollary
(i.e., upping prices), even though it may never be spent.

Above the Line, Below the Line, and Other

By industry practice, the budget is divided into “above-the-line” costs, “below-the-line” costs, and “other”
costs. The above-the-line costs include the costs for the rights, producer, and talent. For example,
above-the-line costs include the costs of acquiring the underlying rights, script costs, producer fees, and
payments to key talent (director and main actors). The below-the-line costs are basically all costs of
production and post-production. Other costs include financing costs, the completion guarantee fee, and the
contingency. The reason that these categories are relevant is that several items (such as insurance premiums
and completion bond fees) are often calculated as a percentage of the budget, but excluding all or a portion
of the above-the-line costs or other costs. Even the contingency itself may exclude certain above-the-line
costs. Also, the below-the-line costs are used as a rough indication of the value of production going “on the
screen,” as opposed to payments for rights, talent, etc. Insiders are always using this lingo, so you need to
know it.

Where Does the Buck Stop?

The amount of the budget can vary widely depending on the neurosis of the director. If the director is a wild
perfectionist, demanding absolutely perfect special effects and endless retakes, the budget will increase
dramatically. (Witness anything done by James Cameron and Martin Scorsese.) Unless the person preparing
the initial budget has a firm grip on the director’s psychological predilections, the budget will be no more
than a wild guess. Sooner or later, the budget will be handed to the lender with a request to fund the budget.
The lender will, in turn, hand it to the completion guarantor with a request to guarantee that the film can be
made for that budget. As you can guess, the buck stops with the completion guarantor, who is usually the
first to seriously question the budget. Almost without exception, the completion guarantor demands an
increase in the budget to give the completion guarantor more breathing room. For example, the completion
guarantor may request a reduction or deferment of fees to the producer or an increase to the contingency.
The completion guarantor will then make everyone sign in blood that they can live with the budget. If the
budget calls for Godzilla to be played by a ten-dollar hand puppet, the director better not come whining later
to the completion guarantor requesting funding for a life-size model.