OPINION: The deeply concerning journalistic practices behind Bao Nguyen’s ‘The Stringer’
Amid Hollywood’s embracing of documentaries, it’s time to call fault to their journalistic shortcomings.
It’s been nearly 50 years since the end of the Vietnam War. The war led to a historically confused public and media boom, with reporting from the 1970s laying the foundation for reporting and photojournalism. Media rapidly evolved, covering everything from the largest political scandals of the decade to some of the most impactful photos of violence before mass-market photography was born.
At this year’s Sundance Film Festival, director Bao Nguyen, known for “The Greatest Night in Pop” and “Be Water,” released a controversial documentary, “The Stringer.” It premiered at the Park City, Utah festival, and has yet to be distributed or announce further screenings. It was produced by the VII Foundation and reported on by husband-and-wife duo Gary Knight and Fiona Turner.
The documentary investigates one of the most famous photographs of all time, “The Terror of War,” colloquially known as “Napalm Girl.” The film challenges the widely accepted story that AP Staff Photographer Nick Ut took the photograph. Its thesis argues that Nguyen Thành Nghe, a local stringer in Vietnam, was allegedly the actual photographer. After the screening, Nghe exclaimed to the crowd, “I took the photograph!”
“The Terror of War” had a profound impact, giving Americans a glimpse into the devastation of the war and deepening public understanding of its inner workings. During this time, the American public was largely unaware of what was truly going on in Vietnam. The photo told the violent story of the war to the public and was used as the fronting image of the anti-war movement at the time. It led to a deeper public knowledge of the United States’ Agent Orange program.
The photo became one the most widely recognized and applauded works of photojournalism in the 20th century, earning Ut and the AP a Pulitzer Prize in 1973. In a bold move for the time, the AP lifted a restriction on publishing nudity due to the photo’s social importance.
Following the film’s premiere at Sundance, the Associated Press released multiple statements, including a 23-page investigation into the photo’s authorship. The AP has consistently supported Ut, asserting it has ample evidence to back the claim. However, the AP has requested the filmmakers’ evidence, which, as of this writing, has not been provided. The filmmakers and their representatives did not respond to my repeated requests for a screener of the film.
The AP claims that when it asked the production team for evidence, it was given limited access to parts of the film and was not allowed to view the entire documentary until Sundance. The film includes a written response from AP, which the organization says is incomplete and inaccurate.
AP also contends that Carl Robinson, a former photo editor at the AP and a key source in the documentary, is a “former disgruntled employee” who never raised these concerns in 50 years since the photograph was taken, including in his 2020 memoir.
As the Associated Press battles the Trump Administration over White House access from a February 2025 incident, the issue of press freedom and access is not only more important than ever but also relevant to the film’s hesitancy of access to the AP. According to James Hornstein, Nick Ut’s attorney, the AP has now been granted access to see the film.
The issue with this film lies in a basic misunderstanding of how journalism, and investigative journalism, works. With investigative reporting, there is a period in which the subject of a report is given a chance to respond to accusations. Usually, it would be done in a “timely manner” and with no restrictions on confidentiality. Sometimes, an embargo agreement is signed but never required by the accused.
Seemingly, the AP was not given that opportunity with this film. That is a serious problem and unethical for a journalist to do.
The filmmakers claim the process was a “three-year investigation” and “very well investigated,” but it seems to fall short in other key areas too.
Several widely known sources, including many former members of the AP Saigon bureau at the time, were not included. Fiona Turner, a producer on the film, allegedly reached out to witnesses but did not follow up with those whose accounts contradicted the film’s narrative. One such witness was Fox Butterfield, former New York Times Saigon Bureau chief, who told the AP that after contradicting Turner’s claims, he was not contacted again. Butterfield made the following statement to the AP.
“More than a year ago, I was contacted by Fiona Turner, one of the film producers. She asked me what I saw and remembered, and I told Fiona what I had seen at Trang Bang on June 8, 1972, with my own eyes, and She told me that wasn’t right. I asked her what proof she had, and she said she couldn’t tell me. She then asked me to sign an NDA, which I thought was ridiculous. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I told them what my memory was, and they didn’t like it, but they just went ahead anyway.”
When asked for comment, Turner initially responded but later rescinded her statement, providing the one below in it’s place.
"The production team identified and reached out to every surviving member of the press that we could identify, either on the road where the napalm attack happened or in the AP Saigon bureau that day. The only members of the AP Saigon bureau who did not respond were Peter Arnett and Nick Ut. We can’t answer for why they chose not to talk to us, you will have to ask them.”
According to Hornstein, Butterfield wasn’t the only eyewitness whose account was ignored or participation was contingent on signing an NDA.
In investigative reporting, and reporting in general, sourcing is essential to getting a story right. If a source contradicts your findings, you follow up. If a source disputes the facts, you quote them. In both documentary and print journalism, requiring a source to sign a non-disclosure agreement (NDA) is highly unusual — especially problematic in this case, where the production team reportedly asked everyone to sign one, including the AP and Butterfield.
Here’s where an NDA should never be used: when you’re accusing someone of wrongdoing, or when, as in Buttefield’s case, you deliberately exclude an eyewitness whose account contradicts your thesis. There are very few circumstances in which a journalist should ask a source to sign an NDA.
In documentary filmmaking, NDAs are commonly used. The competitiveness of a documentary coming to market, which star is your TV show, who’s sharing what with whose agent — it all makes sense. NDAs are common in documentaries, too, as are holding agreements (a legal document to hold talent to your project before it’s made), and other similar requirements to ensure you aren’t scooped. Crew, executives, and other creatives usually sign these agreements.
This approach to journalism overlooks the basics of reporting. Ironically, Nguyen himself has said in interviews that we need to do more “listening,” and "listening to other people’s truth.” It seems, however, that Butterfield and others were not given that opportunity, as they were asked to sign an NDA.
I reached out to Alex Robbins, the film’s legal counsel, who would have drafted the NDAs. He referred me back to the filmmakers, but they did not respond to questions about the NDAs.
In addition to these issues, investigative reporting relies on checks and balances, such as employing a “Red Team” — a group of editors or reporters not involved in the production who review all evidence and challenge every assertion. It seems that didn’t happen here. When asked about due diligence practices, Turner provided an unrelelated response, and other representatives for the VII Foundation, the film’s production company, did not respond to repeated requests for comment.
According to Hornstein, Robinson was the one who initially pitched the film before Gary Knight signed on. At least one other filmmaker declined to participate. Knight then took the project around, secured financing, and brought Bao Nguyen on as a director. To my knowledge, Bao Nguyen does not have a background in journalism.
Filmmakers should be cautious when joining projects pitched by the subject, as it raises ethical concerns and questions about the motivations of the subject, as we see here. I would never work with a subject's spouse, as a source informed me what allegedly happened with Robinson's wife and the production team of Turner and Knight. According to allegations from renowned photojournalist Yunghi Kim, Knight and Robinson have been dishonest about the timeline of the film’s development and production.
As Hornstein put it, “Gary Knight did not do any thorough investigation of any of the potential eyewitnesses who could refute or corroborate Carl Robinson’s theory…He is a photojournalist, and he has aspirations to be a documentary filmmaker. This was his hope to have his reputation boosted by taking this on.”
Beyond the sourcing issues, the film also relied on an analysis of photographs from Index, a French data firm that analyzed publicly available images of the incident. The firm has not provided any evidence or the original negatives, nor does it have photographs from other sources who were present that day.
There is no physical evidence, to my knowledge, that Nguyen Thành Nghe took any photo of the Vietnam War.
As we look towards the future of journalistic documentaries, I hope we can remain committed to rigorous reporting. “20 Days in Mariupol,” which won PBS Frontline and the AP an Academy Award in 2024, is an example of journalistic cinema done right. It was shot by a stringer and focuses on eyewitness accounts of war. “Black Box Diaries,” another thoroughly journalistic documentary up for an Academy Award this year, is another example of solid reporting and storytelling.
We must treat our sources — and those who challenge our beliefs — with respect and care, not silence them with legal documents.
Finally, when something is wrong and the record needs to be corrected, journalists need to come out and correct the record as such. Everyone makes mistakes in their reporting methods; sometimes journalists get it wrong, but when we do, we need to set the record straight. Perhaps the production was right, and perhaps Nguyen Thành Nghe did take the photo – but that doesn’t mean the way they came to that conclusion was right or ethical.
Editorial Notes
UPDATE: 05/06/2025—The AP releases a second report citing ‘The Stringer’ confirming no definitive evidence that anyone but Ut took the photograph.
Having not seen the film myself, I am relying on publicly available information.; I simply don’t have the evidence to support any claim but that Ut took the photograph. I look forward to seeing any evidence supporting the contrary. Making a bold claim in public, with no supporting documentation, is a large statement to make. It has been announced that Nick Ut will be suing for defamation, and friends have launched a GoFundMe.
Representatives for The VII Foundation, the film’s production company, did not respond to repeated questions regarding the contents of this article or for interviews with the producers. Fiona Turner only responded to the question in the statement quoted above, not responding to detailed questions about their reporting.
A PR representative for Bao Nguyen said interviews were closed and referred me to FGS Global, who did not respond to repeated requests for comment. FGS Global is a strategic communications firm that offers crisis guidance as well as representation management globally. A representative for Nguyen at CAA did not respond.
This story was copy edited by Jaelyn Gonzalez and fact-checked by Aidan Toms. The opinions presented in this article are solely of the author.
Having followed this misadventure from the first time I read about it. Your piece is excellent well presented.