Mon. July 18, 2011 at the Cinefamily

Join Academy Award® Coordinator Torene Svitil as she demystifies the eligibility and submission process for entering your documentary feature or short into the Academy Awards®. This is a first time ever opportunity to have all your questions answered in a workshop setting. Blank copies of the documentary feature and short submission forms will be provided. Rules and the submission forms are available on the AMPAS website.

No admission will be charged for this event, although RSVP is required.

Dear Documentary Community,

It's been said in many corners, and it's true from all of them: 2010 was a banner year for documentaries, creatively speaking. Whether you liked or loathed many of this past year's titles, three things are inarguable: (1) they were anything but boring, (2) the overall tide level of the craft has risen, and (3) Goddamn, there sure were a lot of them!

Serious or amusing, challenging or traditional, brazenly real or uncertainly unreal; they were all that and more. "A golden age," more than one news outlet called it. And yet, in view of mainstream media (and perhaps, mainstream corporate boardrooms), documentaries are still considered "ignored" by general audiences. A New York Times piece in January 2011 compared the total gross of all documentaries in 2010 to one medium-budget cookie-cutter studio film across the span of the entire year.

But waaaaait a minute! What one documentary appears on the same number of movie screens or has anything close to the amount of ad dollars of even the lamest studio fare? You can't compare Alex Gibney to Yogi Bear, I'm sorry to say. They're not the same average bears.

It's time we rethought what "success" means for documentaries. Our $4 million is like their $40 million, because their $40 million probably cost $60 million to procure. If only documentaries had the deep wellspring of marketing, promotion and business affairs muscle to draw upon that studio fare has for...well, anything...then maybe we'd have a level playing field. We don't.

And let us not dismiss that animal called television, as documentaries were seen, cherished and beloved by millions on pay and free television in 2010; the same millions who could not have been as affected nor as deeply moved by catching Sandra Bullock's All About Steve on an endless loop, "numbers" notwithstanding. Digital portals are only just beginning to gather a head of steam, of course, but many cater to the documentary lover unable to see the work any other way but very excited to take the reins in this user-driven world.  I'd like to see some data on Netflix, Hulu, etc.; my suspicion is that documentaries make up a much bigger percentage of downloads and streams than one might suspect.

We can't accept mainstream definitions of success unless the mainstream would like to share their resources. Or admit their failures. Or open their books and show their expenses.  

We're doing great. We just need to sell ourselves a little better. Fight the tide, go for the hearts and minds, define the debate. And rock on.

Excelsior!

Eddie Schmidt
IDA Board President

Tonight's Episode "Gateway to Heroin" with Vanguard Correspondent Mariana van Zeller

9/8c Only on Current TV 

Vanguard is a no-limits documentary series whose award-winning correspondents put themselves in extraordinary situations to immerse viewers in global issues that have a large social significance. Unlike sound-bite driven reporting, the show’s correspondents, Adam Yamaguchi, Christof Putzel and Mariana van Zeller, serve as trusted guides who take viewers on in-depth real life adventures in pursuit of some of the world’s most important stories.

In tonight's episode, Vanguard correspondent Mariana van Zeller travels to Boston, home to the nation's highest rate of opiate (heroin, oxycodone) addiction and overdose, and investigates the story behind the dramatic spike in drug abuse over the course of the last decade. Along the way she uncovers a disturbing new trend: an alarming escalation among addicts from prescription drugs to heroin, a cheaper and more potent alternative to OxyContin that's all too readily available on the streets of New England.

Click here for a sneak peek.

A&E Network and the New York Television Festival are introducing an innovative program seeking original unscripted television treatments from independent producers and production companies - the A&E Unscripted Development Pipeline. Concepts and treatments should center on individuals or small groups that represent unique points of view.

25 semi-finalists will be presented to A&E development executives. Five finalists, selected by A&E, will each receive notes on their projects and $2,500 to shoot additional tape. One winner, selected by A&E, will be awarded $10,000 and will participate in the production of the network pilot presentation. To be considered, producers must submit a short treatment (1-2 pages) along with a brief video introducing the subject(s).

The NYTVF accepts entries from June 20 through July 15, 2011. Free to enter. More info: nytvf.com/2011_ae_pipeline.htm

The IDA joined forces with a coalition of media arts organizations and independent filmmakers to lend their names to an amicus brief filed on their behalf by entertainment attorney Michael C. Donaldson. The brief urges the United States Tax Court to recognize that documentary films are overwhelmingly undertaken in pursuit of profit.

To review the amicus brief in its entirety, click here.

The amicus brief was filed in a case examining the IRS' challenging of the deduction of business expenses from the production of Smile 'Til It Hurts: The Up With People Story by documentary filmmaker Lee Storey. Smile ‘Til It Hurts explores the history of the youth choir Up With People, from its founding in 1965 on conservative ideals and cult-like ideology to its present-day incarnation and departure from its origins. 

Following an audit in the tax years 2006, 2007 and 2008, the IRS challenged the deductions Storey made for business expenses, which amounted to a purported $311,809.90 (applicable interest and penalties included). According to their test for determining whether an activity is engaged in a for-profit activity, the IRS argued that Storey could not deduct business expenses because her production of a documentary was not a trade or business and was not carried on for profit. The IRS also pointed out that eight years have passed without Storey making any income.

During the trial at the United States Tax Court on March 9, 2011, Judge Diane Kroupa expressed her inclination to hold that Storey had satisfied several factors in the nine-factor test. At the same time, however, she questioned whether a documentary, in general, could be for profit, since, by its nature, it is designed "to educate and expose." Donaldson and the IDA understood that this statement could create a dangerous precedent for filmmakers if confirmed in a ruling. "We recognize that this issue, if left un-thwarted," says Donaldson, "could have devastating consequences to those artists whose livelihood hinges on enlightening the world at large on significant social subjects."

The amicus brief states that a judicial pronouncement that documentary filmmakers are not engaged in a profit-making activity would have a chilling effect on the documentary filmmaking industry, as documentarians would no longer be able to claim deductions for their business expenses pursuant to the Internal Revenue Code. The brief argues that while filmmakers certainly do make films to educate and expose, they are for the most part engaging in a for-profit endeavor and that the production of a documentary film entails a significant investment of time and money prior to any revenue generated from the film. The brief includes statements from several documentary filmmakers and other industry professionals to support these contentions.

IDA Board President and Academy Award-nominated documentary filmmaker Eddie Schmidt (Twist of Faith; Troubadours; This Film is Not Yet Rated) further affirms the notion that educational intent and profit are not mutually exclusive targets: "The fact that documentaries are generally made to appeal to hearts and minds, rather than fists and loins, does not diminish the intent of their creators--which is to say, the very same intent as creators of any kind of mass entertainment reaching a maximum number of potential eyeballs. Paying customers, in other words."

"For over 25 years, I've been making documentary films and it never occurred to me that this was not a profit-making business," says director/producer Robert Kenner, Academy Award-nominee for the 2009 documentary Food, Inc., which grossed approximately $4.5 million during its US theatrical release. "I've been making a good living doing it since I entered the field. I've been able to put my kids through college on the money I've made, and am proud to say they both have decided to enter this profession."

Academy Award-winner Rob Epstein (The Times of Harvey Milk; Common Threads: Stories from the Quilt), who  currently serves as the Chair of the Board of Governors of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences Documentary Branch, reiterates that the twin goals of raising awareness and creating profit are complementary to each other. "Most of my documentary films have focused on issues intended to bring about change--to educate and expose injustices in our world, and to entertain, delight, inspire and inform, all at the same time," he maintains. "For that is the beauty of documentary. Those same films all made healthy profits for me and my partners, had long lives in theaters, on television and in the DVD market, and continue to serve both masters well--generating continued profit for us, many years after initial release, and serving as historical documents of movements in our collective history, which can be used to educate and inspire new generations. I have never experienced any conflict between these two goals. And I would not have been able to sustain a professional career in this industry for all these years, if it were any different."

As IDA's executive director, Michael Lumpkin, maintains, "We hope to ensure that all filmmakers receive the respect they deserve, and that the many sacrifices they make in the pursuit of their art and livelihood will not be made in vain."

The amicus brief filed in Lee Storey's case represents the most recent effort undertaken by Michael Donaldson at the behest of IDA in its role as a dedicated advocate for the rights of the documentary filmmaking community. Previous cases to which Donaldson and IDA have contributed include such topics as: freedom of speech, fair use, filmmaker exemptions to the DMCA (Digital Millennium Copyright Act), net neutrality, use of trademarks and copyrights, the ability to depict animal cruelty without fear of criminal prosecution, and supporting Crude director Joe Berlinger's battle to prevent turning the entirety of his film's dailies over to oil company Chevron.

The coalition of signatories to the amicus brief includes the following:

Organizations:

• International Documentary Association
• Film Independent
• National Association of Latino Independent Producers
• Women Make Movies
• National Alliance for Media Art and Culture
• University Film & Video Association

Individuals:

• Robert Kenner (Food, Inc.)
• Liz Garbus (Moxie Firecracker Films)
• Annie Roney (ro*co Films International)
• Meyer Shwarzstein (Brainstorm Media)
• Rob Epstein (Chair of the Board of Governors of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences Documentary Branch)
• Eddie Schmidt (This Film Is Not Yet Rated)
• Jeffrey Blitz (Spellbound)
• Jaimie D'Cruz(Exit Through the Gift Shop)

Declining ad revenue. New Media. Widespread layoffs. Paywalls. Pulitzers. And a controversial Australian named Julian Assange. 

In 2010, The New York Times made plenty of historic headlines.

And it was all caught on tape. 

Page One: Inside The New York Times was co-written by director Andrew Rossi (who was associate producer on the highly rated documentary Control Room) and producer Kate Novack--the two previously worked together on documentary Le Cirque: A Table in Heaven.  The film chronicles a year in the life of The New York Times, taking viewers inside the storied office building on Eighth Avenue, affording them up-close and personal perspectives on the intricacies of editorial decision-making and page-one meetings.  

Rossi's initial interest in the story came shortly after the financial crash of 2008, when newspapers across the country took a major economic nose-dive, and dozens across the country never came up for air. "There are some really smart people who were saying that, with the digital revolution, on the road to the future there are going to be some dead bodies, and some of those are places like The New York Times, and that's OK, that's part of progress," Rossi observes.  "And I felt that it would be valuable for everyone to take a step back and get a front seat in a place like the Times--and it didn't have to be the Times, it could have been The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, the Associated Press, anywhere that has as its mandate the creation of original reporting. I thought the world needed to see what that kind of journalism takes to do."

The film primarily follows journalist David Carr, a member of the Times' media desk, who is brazenly optimistic and unapologetically brash, and happens to be a devout believer in the longevity of The Gray Lady. In fact, it was Carr who sparked the idea for the documentary. 

Rossi first met the journalist while shooting a documentary for HBO on Web 2.0 ventures, like Four Square. After talking to the grizzled newspaper vet about the future of print journalism, Rossi says, "This light bulb went off.

 "I realized that David could be a sort of Virgil character, leading us through some of the issues that are a part of the digital future," Rossi continues. "And I thought that the stakes for him--as somebody who's at a newspaper that people are speculating could go out of business, and somebody who's both a chronicler of a specific world but is also really specifically implicated by everything that's changing--the stakes were so high that he'd make an ideal protagonist."

It took about six months of discussions with the editors for Rossi to ultimately gain access to the building, no holds barred. By explaining his process--relative "fly-on-the-wall" journalism coupled with analytical sit-down interviews with those outside the walls of the Times building--Rossi convinced editors that his concept for the film was not bolstered by any sort of agenda, or even any expectations. "I was able to explain the way I wanted to make the film, and people basically felt comfortable participating," he says.

Armed with a Sony EX1 HD camera and a cell phone (with which he would constantly text Novack to get more information on some of the issues circulating the newsroom), Rossi spent at least three days a week at the office, sometimes all week, ultimately compiling about 250 hours of footage. While some difficulty arose when certain members of the newsroom chose not to be on camera, one of the more challenging aspects of filming in a fast-paced newsroom setting came from simple logistics: "I was trying to be both a cinematographer and a director, and a producer and a journalist, and trying to keep up with all the different strands of the story, while physically moving around from the third floor, where the media desk is located in the corner, to the fourth floor, where David's desk is, to the second floor, where the technology desk is, all the while texting my co-producer and co-writer, Kate Novack, who's doing research so that I would be informed enough to do an interview with Bill Keller on the days when they were releasing the Wikileaks information," Rossi explains, without taking a breath. 

"Juggling all those responsibilities was thrilling--I think that's the joy of making a documentary film," he maintains.  "But, it's also extremely challenging."

While Rossi certainly spent many hours sitting in the newsroom merely observing his subjects, he was also buried in a tangle of storylines and timetables that sometimes dictated where he needed to be at a given moment. "As part of trying to have a very small footprint, to not become an obstacle and get in the way of the journalists as they're working, I would have to coordinate to meet people while they were trying to do an interview," he reflects. "I would kind of keep track of everyone's schedules, and then still try to accommodate the spontaneous things that would emerge."

One of the more exciting moments during production came in April 2010, when the newspaper received reports of a controversial video posted on YouTube by WikiLeaks. "It really represented such a confluence of drama, the visual drama of [Times reporters] trying to produce that story, and also the meaning of WikiLeaks trying to put this video out on YouTube," Rossi asserts. "It represented everything that's happening in the media today, where NBC or The New York Times is sort of irrelevant in that equation."

This came after Rossi had been in the newsroom for about five months, and it was at this point that he knew he had enough significant footage to make the film. He kept production to a 14-month timetable because he felt it was important for the film to be released as soon as possible, "in order for it to have some impact on people's conversations and thoughts about journalism and maybe allow people to take some action." (Rossi and Carr have been involved with numerous lectures and discussions on the future of media in the months leading up to the film's release.)

 "Bill's tenure, his eight years at the paper, really represents a clear term," Rossi maintains. "He took over in the wake of the Jayson Blair scandal, he oversaw the corrections to reporting in the failures in the run-up to the Iraq War with Judy Miller and the WMD reporting, he has overseen these layoffs, and the murders/kidnappings/injuries to countless reporters and photographers who have been in war zones reporting under his watch, and he was there when the paywall went up. His stepping down now and [former managing editor] Jill Abramson taking over really crystallizes this idea of the movie almost representing a field manual for all the landmines that somebody taking over now will have to contend with."

Page One: Inside The New York Times opens in theaters June 17 through Magnolia Pictures and Participant Media. For more information,  click here.

Claire Walla is a New York-based freelance writer whose work has been published by the likes of American Cinematographer and VanityFair.com. She can be reached at claire.walla@gmail.com.

A girl stands in a desert landscape, swirling a hula hoop easily round her slender hips, intent on the Rubik's cube she swivels round and round, trying to solve the puzzle: One of the many images that comprise Kevin Macdonald's Life in a Day, the opening film of DocAviv, the Tel Aviv International Documentary Film Festival, an image that might well describe the festival itself: intense, full of energy and curiosity, trying to do everything at once and, amazingly, succeeding, thriving in a hot and often harsh climate.

The festival was founded in 1999 by documentary filmmaker Ilana Tsur, who felt that docs deserved their own festival platform in Israel. Israeli documentaries have been enjoying the same surge of creativity and corresponding popularity experienced in the local feature film industry over the past 15 years, and the festival has become a significant presence on the cultural scene. Tsur resigned as artistic director last May; this year's festival, which ran from May 12 to 21, 2011, was marked by change and innovation as the first festival under the artistic direction of Sinai Abt, former head of Noga Communications Channel 8.

Going global in a big way, Abt chose to diverge from the DocAviv tradition of opening the festival with an Israeli film--perhaps a sign that local filmmaking has come of age and can now hold its own on the international playing field. Life in a Day, a YouTube project composed of user-generated footage, set the tone for this forward-looking fest, raising issues such as the impact of new technologies, access to and distribution of information, relationships between filmmakers and audiences, as well as identity and global culture. The film's editor, Joe Walker, was a guest of the festival and provided some insight into this very different process, saying, "We had no idea what the film was going to be until we started noticing trends."

DocAviv 2011 offered a packed program with a diverse array of strong films. Many of the directors were present at the screenings, fielding questions from inquisitive audiences, the conversations often carrying over to the hallways and terrace. The free-flowing, non-stop interaction between all festival participants--industry professionals, film students and the general public--is one of the outstanding features of DocAviv.

New forms and practices were the focus of two special workshops: Re:invent with Brian Newman, and a presentation by Sandra and Paul Fierlinger of their new online animation project in progress. After the workshop, the Fierlingers continued chatting with a group of Israeli animators in the library, talking about creating films that are intended for a new kind of audience on the Internet: an audience of one. Festival events at the Port of Tel Aviv had a Mediterranean feel, with open air screenings of music docs on the dock, and a two-day Food Doc program among the fruits and vegetables in the marketplace.

DocAviv's role in nurturing a generation of filmmakers can be seen in Tamar Tal's Life in Stills, winner of the Best Israeli Film award; Tal first participated with a student short four years ago. Personal and national history converge as 96-year-old Miriam Weissenstein and her grandson Ben fight to preserve the original Photohouse, home to an archive of photographs taken by Miriam and her late husband Rudi, documenting the first steps of the State of Israel and the city of Tel Aviv. Miriam's vivacious bold approach to life, the sometimes painful honesty of the relationship between Ben and Miriam and the tenacity of their devotion--to one another and to the family project--unfold in parallel to the centennial celebrations of Tel Aviv, a city that relentlessly reinvents itself. The complex relationship between the past and the future is conveyed through this intimate family portrait.

The images in Gianfranco Rosi's International Competition Award winner, El Sicario Room 164, written with Charles Bowden, are stark and simple: a man in a hotel room, his head covered, his features and identity hidden, describes his recruitment, training and actions as an assassin for a drug cartel. It's a horrifying reality where appearances have little connection to the truth, and an entire system of government and law enforcement functions efficiently to ensure the continued future of drug trafficking. As he speaks, his story takes form in the most traditional mode--drawn in his notebook in bold simple lines, the magic marker creating an eerie soundtrack for the film.

Another hooded figure, his hands creating artwork, declares, "What I do is a bit of a legal gray area," and raises issues of truth and identity in the art world. Banksy's film Exit Through the Gift Shop takes the viewer on a tour of street art, its practitioners and poseurs, while executing a mid-film role reversal that turns the camera and the interrogatory gaze on the documenter.

Questions of identity loom large in The Collaborator and his Family, directed by Ruthie Shatz and Adi Barash. Ibrahim has been an informant to the Israelis. Following the shooting of his brother, also accused of collaborating with the Israelis, he flees Hebron for Tel Aviv with his family, despite not having an official permit. Caught between two cultures, the family belongs nowhere, living in constant fear of being detained by the police and deported, but since they're viewed as traitors in Hebron, they can no longer return home. The access the filmmakers received from Ibrahim and his family creates an intimate portrayal of the most marginalized members of society. The film offers a very different view of Tel Aviv--the poor neighborhoods in the southern part of the city, rarely seen in the media.

Efrat Shalom Danon's film Dreamers follows Ruhama, a teacher and screenwriter, and Tikva, a wigmaker and aspiring actress, in the making of a feature film. Both women belong to the Ultra Orthodox community, where some rabbinic authorities ban movies and television. Their search for artistic expression that will not conflict with the strict practices of their community, their courage and resilience make this film an inspiring adventure.

Identity, past and community all come together in Nick Brandestini's Darwin. In this former mining town of 35 in Death Valley, California, interviews with an assortment of individuals--filmed at a conversational distance, many in warm outdoor light--draw us close to their stories. As they reveal the layers of their past and present lives, one finds in Darwin a sense of tolerance and acceptance, an eclectic affirmation of life in the midst of the desert.

Ayelet Dekel is a writer living in Tel Aviv, and founder and editor of Midnight East, an online Israeli culture magazine.

In 2003 filmmakers Michael Galinsky and Suki Hawley read a story in The New York Times about a development project that would bring the New Jersey Nets to Brooklyn. But the story sounded more like a "funky press release" that didn't sit quite right with them. And rightly so. A few days later Galinsky saw a little green xerox poster that said, "Stop the Project," with a woman's phone number on it. Galinsky, who lives in Brooklyn with Hawley, called the number.

The woman turned out to be intrepid journalist/activist/writer Patti Hagan, who was concerned about the proposed Atlantic Yards Project long before anyone else knew much about it. The $4.9 billion venture, supported by local government supported by local government, and to be carried out by Forest City Ratner, one of the largest developers in New York City, included a new basketball arena, shops, restaurants and housing--all designed by celebrated architect Frank Gehry. But in order to begin the project and "build a new community from scratch," people were going to be forced out of their homes, some of whom had been living there for generations.

This David-and-Goliath case of the big developer seizing private property--with compensation--in the name of "development" and "the public good" amounted to Eminent Domain abuse.

When Hagan started talking Galinsky's ear off, the seasoned filmmaker picked up his camera and said, "I'll be right there." This was the beginning of a very long road. But now, nearly nine years later, Battle for Brooklyn will have its US theatrical premiere in New York City on June 17.

This project, which has been an exercise in patience and perseverance, began with an education in both New York City politics and the proposed development plan and how it would affect the local community. Galinsky and Hawley began searching for characters and a storyline. Early on, the filmmakers were alerted that a loft-dweller named Daniel Goldstein might fight the developers, so they should pay attention to him.

It just so happened that Galinsky was acquainted with Goldstein. Not only had Goldstein done the graphic design for Galinsky and Hawley's Horns and Halos, but he was the college roommate of a good friend of Galinsky's, and this made getting initial access to Goldstein much easier. "We didn't know at the time that he would be the one who would fight to the end because there were many people fighting at that point," says Hawley. "But it did seem the way in to tell this story." This suited Galinsky and Hawley's filmmaking style, which is to make "character-driven films about people who push back against the system."

One by one the loft-dwellers settled with Forest City Ratner and moved out; within the first six months of shooting, all of the tenants except Goldstein had agreed to settle and had vacated the building. Goldstein's battle had begun, and the filmmakers hunkered down to follow the story for seven more years through innumerable community meetings, rallies and legal battles.

"We filmed a lot in the beginning," recalls Galinsky. "It was very intensive because there was so much confusion and everyone was trying to get a handle on it. And then it settled into almost like the trenches, and at that point there was a lot less shooting." Galinsky maintains that it became a challenge to figure out when not to shoot. Over time there were so many public meetings that if he filmed a meeting, it meant they would have three or four more hours of footage to contend with. Not only would they have to make decisions about whether or not the footage would actually make it into the film, but most of the time nothing really happens at a given meeting. Hawley recalls that there was a lot of deliberation about when to shoot, "Michael would be like, ‘Ah, there's another hearing tonight; should I shoot it?' And it would be a big discussion--is it going to go into the movie, is it not going to go in the movie?"

Sometimes, however, the decision would be made for them. With two small kids, they had certain priorities, says Galinsky. "And then we'd say, ‘You know it's bath night,'" and he'd skip the meeting.

But over the years the story evolved and they accumulated footage--Galinsky shoots and Hawley edits their projects--and even though they had interns logging footage part of the time, Hawley watched every frame in order to understand the emotional content. She put some scenes together while the story was still unfolding, but in the end she edited for a year-and-a-half, during which time she mined some 300-500 hours of footage.

It took a long time to figure out how to make more accessible the complexities of Eminent Domain, city politics and a divided community while crafting an emotionally engaging story. They toiled to find the right balance of meetings and politics to make sure audiences understood what was going on without boring them. Furthermore, the filmmakers worked hard to build Goldstein's character while giving a complete picture of how the impending development impacted an entire community.

"We realized we had to pull back on introducing characters," Hawley notes. "We needed to show that he is not alone. It wasn't just a personal fight; he was doing it on behalf of a huge community--but we couldn't really introduce them [other characters] as people."

During the editing process Galinsky and Hawley held numerous screenings, particularly in the last nine months. While they welcomed feedback, they would often use cell phone usage as a barometer for boredom. "We definitely took advice from people, but mostly we watched when people got bored," says Galinsky. "If someone checked a phone we made a note of that, and by the end of the screening process people stopped checking their phones."

Now making its way into the world, Battle for Brooklyn is a gripping, cinematic story with an epic character arc that condenses seven years into 93 minutes. The film deftly captures infuriating politics and tender personal moments as Goldstein ends one relationship, begins another, gets married and has a child, all while fighting to keep his home.

Battle for Brooklyn premiered in April at Hot Docs in Toronto to lively, enthusiastic audiences and great press. The positive reception by international audiences of both doc makers and doc aficionados alleviated worries that the film is too specific to New York. "It was gratifying to see that it does translate to an international audience, because all politics is local and people understand that," says Hawley.

Over the years, the Atlantic Yards project itself has received much media coverage, but Galinsky explains that the news coverage was complicated and limited at best. "Everything is led by news cycles and the news cycles were led by the developer, so the developer is going to control the narrative," he points out. "With all the millions of dollars that they spent on PR over the years, they definitely controlled the narrative as far as people in New York understanding what was going on. This film is our attempt to take back the narrative and say, ‘Well actually, this is from a different perspective of what happened.'"

In the nearly nine years since Galinsky and Hawley began working on Battle for Brooklyn, they have become more intertwined in their own community. Over time they have established roots, cultivated friendships and become very involved with their children's schools--the "bedrock of communities," says Galinsky.

In a very personal way, making this film solidified their understanding of community and the conviction that top-down development doesn't work. "The people in the community and their bonds together were so much more than just a building," Hawley reflects. "To hear from someone on top saying, ‘We're going to build a community from scratch, and take away peoples' homes in order to do this' deepened our understanding of what was going on, why it was wrong. To just uproot the existence of social networks was a very big deal, and it unveiled itself to us very slowly over the seven years."

Battle for Brooklyn has its US premiere June 3 at the Brooklyn Film Festival, then screened June 9 as part of the Rooftop Films Summer Series; the film opens June 17 at the Cinema Village Theatre in New York. Galinsky and Hawley are working on theatrical distribution in theaters across the US, including an August 19 premiere at the Laemmle Music Hall in Los Angeles. For more information, click here.

Laura Almo is a Los Angeles-based filmmaker and writer.