In 1998, the Taiwan International Documentary Festival held its first edition, a decade after martial law was lifted in the island nation. It was a particularly exciting moment for documentary in Taiwan: independent video activism was on the rise, and new models of community media pointed to alternative structures for production and distribution. And yet, apart from Yamagata (founded in 1989), there were not many festivals of politically engaged nonfiction that specifically championed regional Asian cinema; the inaugural TIDF featured both an Asian Visions Competition and a Taiwan Competition strand.  In its 15th edition this May, TIDF continued to explore […]

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The palindromic year of 1991 brought us many good things, including the composition of the wonderful song «El castellano y el tambor» (in English, «Castilian and the drum») by Ilan Chéster from his album Un mundo mejor (A better world), which I covered in a chapter in my books La conspiración del castellano and the English adaptation, The Castilian Conspiracy. Ilan released it on March of the following year. The same palindromic year brought us the first version of another fabulous song «Cómo hemos cambiado» («How we’ve changed»), sung by the then lead singer Sole Giménez of Presuntos Implicados, who later re-released it independently, and she and I discussed it when I interviewed her on CapicúaFM in 2014. Perhaps more known by a higher number of people outside of the Castilian-speaking world is QuickTime, also released in 1991, which many audiovisual creators have in our DNA. Joe Quesada of the YouTube channel joepgk just released a tribute 19:10 short documentary, called QuickTime’s fall from grace, which we should all watch, appreciate and click on the Thumb’s Up symbol, (Unicode U+1F44D).

Above, the video is embedded, so even when you watch it here in ProVideo Coalition, the creator gets credit for the play. However, if you would like to click on the Thumb’s Up symbol or comment below the video on YouTube, click here. If you want to comment on this article, do it below.

Thank you to Joe Quesada of the YouTube channel joepgk for this excellent history, compressed into 19:10. QuickTime is still in our DNA, whether we use it anymore or not.

Lee este artículo en buen castellano

La caída en desgracia de QuickTime, un breve documental de Joe Quesada, de joepkg

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I’ve been seeing more docs in movie theaters lately. I don’t mean there are more, overall (there are not); I just personally have seen a few more than usual on the big screen.

Partly this is because I went to some film fests — True/False, SXSW, and next weekend I’m going to DC/DOX — and also because I just hosted Q&As for three docs currently in theaters — We Are Pat, Underland, and Time and Water.

Those experiences, combined with all my recent obsessions: the nature of cinematic attention in an infinite content world, social media, marketing, how to understand audience expectations, the future of documentary — and having just dropped a trailer (700k+ organic, not-purchased views) for my own film going into theaters July 29 (opening wider in August)1 —

all of this makes me wonder…

Are documentaries movies?

The question makes me laugh. But what do I even mean by asking it? Or, what would be at stake in trying to answer it?

Well, as someone releasing a doc theatrically, what I’m truly asking myself right now is why would someone go OUT TO THE MOVIES to see Wild Inside (or any other doc)?

Are documentaries even movies?

On the one hand, it’s a linguistic question. When someone says in the comments of my trailer, “This would make such a good movie!” I might joke about how they literally just watched a movie trailer, ha ha ha — but actually, we all know what they mean, which is that docs are not movies. We do not turn to docs and movies for the same purpose, they do not do the same things,

Another clue is that many people find the idea of rating documentaries distasteful, while they happily rate MOVIES all day long. Viewers and critics tend to judge the subject matter of a doc rather than the movie itself, and criticism can feel mean-spirited because documentaries are usually viewed NOT as movies, but as important social goods made by well-intentioned people doing difficult work for very little money.

Asking “are documentaries movies?” might also be a way of answering a question that’s been nagging at me pretty much every day since I saw this stat:

Overall movie theater attendance is down more than 50% since 2018, and ticket sales for documentaries are down more than 90%.

Where did that 2018 audience for theatrical docs go?

Granted, as the above stat acknowledges, all movies are having a tougher time at the movies… but a 90% drop???

If “documentary” is a genre, it is amongst the genres that are doing the absolute worst in theaters. Documentary is the opposite of horror when it comes to genres that people will leave their house, buy tickets, and stand in line for in 2026.

And I totally get it! Most people — including me — go to the movies to be transported out of their real lives. They want an escape from reality, not to be confronted with even more reality, especially when most docs are super f*cking depressing and also not terribly interested in providing anything so coarse as entertainment value (sorry / not sorry, we all know this is true).

But escapism and entertainment isn’t the only thing we want at the movies. We also want events to attend with friends that feel meaningful and interesting. We want to learn new things and be part of cultural discourse. Docs can definitely form the basis of incredibly rewarding event screenings.

Essayist Philip Lopate once asked: “Why can’t nonfiction be nonfiction? Why does it have to tart itself up and be something else?”

Good question. Because the more I think about it, the less interested I am in proving that documentaries are movies. I’m more interested in figuring out what documentaries are.

After all…

Millions of people love and watch docs — even as they don’t think of them as movies. Sometimes, they even show up in person to see them!

Maybe docs aren’t movies.

If that’s true, then as someone releasing a documentary in theaters this summer, I don’t find that depressing. I find it clarifying.

Because it means the challenge isn’t convincing audiences that Wild Inside is somehow secretly going to give you what a fiction film would. The challenge is understanding what people come to nonfiction for in the first place, and doing the best I can possibly do at delivering that, IN A MOVIE THEATER, knowing that almost all doc lovers are loving and watching docs at home.

For decades, documentary filmmakers have borrowed the language of fiction prestige. We praise docs for being cinematic. We celebrate them when they feel like thrillers, mysteries, comedies, adventures. And all of that is fine. It’s cool! I like it!! Go forth with all the sweeping drone shots and the cool music!!! Please try to make less boring, more entertaining docs, especially funny ones please for the love of god… Great!

But as Lopate points out, nonfiction already has something fiction doesn’t. It’s real, or it’s true, it’s set in the real world and it has real world consequences. That sounds obvious, but it’s the entire reason the form exists and it’s important to remember people turn to docs for that reason, and not necessarily because sometimes it “feels like fiction.”

So maybe the future of theatrical documentary is about learning how to build theatrical experiences around the thing that only nonfiction can provide.

This is what I’m trying to learn right now. I’ll let you know how it goes!

I’ve been seeing more docs in movie theaters lately. I don’t mean there are more, overall (there are not); I just personally have seen a few more than usual on the big screen.

Partly this is because I went to some film fests — True/False, SXSW, and next weekend I’m going to DC/DOX — and also because I just hosted Q&As for three docs currently in theaters — We Are Pat, Underland, and Time and Water.

Those experiences, combined with all my recent obsessions: the nature of cinematic attention in an infinite content world, social media, marketing, how to understand audience expectations, the future of documentary — and having just dropped a trailer (700k+ organic, not-purchased views) for my own film going into theaters July 29 (opening wider in August)1 —

all of this makes me wonder…

Are documentaries movies?

The question makes me laugh. But what do I even mean by asking it? Or, what would be at stake in trying to answer it?

Well, as someone releasing a doc theatrically, what I’m truly asking myself right now is why would someone go OUT TO THE MOVIES to see Wild Inside (or any other doc)?

Are documentaries even movies?

On the one hand, it’s a linguistic question. When someone says in the comments of my trailer, “This would make such a good movie!” I might joke about how they literally just watched a movie trailer, ha ha ha — but actually, we all know what they mean, which is that docs are not movies. We do not turn to docs and movies for the same purpose, they do not do the same things,

Another clue is that many people find the idea of rating documentaries distasteful, while they happily rate MOVIES all day long. Viewers and critics tend to judge the subject matter of a doc rather than the movie itself, and criticism can feel mean-spirited because documentaries are usually viewed NOT as movies, but as important social goods made by well-intentioned people doing difficult work for very little money.

Asking “are documentaries movies?” might also be a way of answering a question that’s been nagging at me pretty much every day since I saw this stat:

Overall movie theater attendance is down more than 50% since 2018, and ticket sales for documentaries are down more than 90%.

Where did that 2018 audience for theatrical docs go?

Granted, as the above stat acknowledges, all movies are having a tougher time at the movies… but a 90% drop???

If “documentary” is a genre, it is amongst the genres that are doing the absolute worst in theaters. Documentary is the opposite of horror when it comes to genres that people will leave their house, buy tickets, and stand in line for in 2026.

And I totally get it! Most people — including me — go to the movies to be transported out of their real lives. They want an escape from reality, not to be confronted with even more reality, especially when most docs are super f*cking depressing and also not terribly interested in providing anything so coarse as entertainment value (sorry / not sorry, we all know this is true).

But escapism and entertainment isn’t the only thing we want at the movies. We also want events to attend with friends that feel meaningful and interesting. We want to learn new things and be part of cultural discourse. Docs can definitely form the basis of incredibly rewarding event screenings.

Essayist Philip Lopate once asked: “Why can’t nonfiction be nonfiction? Why does it have to tart itself up and be something else?”

Good question. Because the more I think about it, the less interested I am in proving that documentaries are movies. I’m more interested in figuring out what documentaries are.

After all…

Millions of people love and watch docs — even as they don’t think of them as movies. Sometimes, they even show up in person to see them!

Maybe docs aren’t movies.

If that’s true, then as someone releasing a documentary in theaters this summer, I don’t find that depressing. I find it clarifying.

Because it means the challenge isn’t convincing audiences that Wild Inside is somehow secretly going to give you what a fiction film would. The challenge is understanding what people come to nonfiction for in the first place, and doing the best I can possibly do at delivering that, IN A MOVIE THEATER, knowing that almost all doc lovers are loving and watching docs at home.

For decades, documentary filmmakers have borrowed the language of fiction prestige. We praise docs for being cinematic. We celebrate them when they feel like thrillers, mysteries, comedies, adventures. And all of that is fine. It’s cool! I like it!! Go forth with all the sweeping drone shots and the cool music!!! Please try to make less boring, more entertaining docs, especially funny ones please for the love of god… Great!

But as Lopate points out, nonfiction already has something fiction doesn’t. It’s real, or it’s true, it’s set in the real world and it has real world consequences. That sounds obvious, but it’s the entire reason the form exists and it’s important to remember people turn to docs for that reason, and not necessarily because sometimes it “feels like fiction.”

So maybe the future of theatrical documentary is about learning how to build theatrical experiences around the thing that only nonfiction can provide.

This is what I’m trying to learn right now. I’ll let you know how it goes!

While much of the world is getting lost in the liminal spaces of Backrooms (a horror film I found disappointingly dull), I am thrilled to share a documentary interested in the seemingly limitless spaces underneath the ground’s surface and the definitely unlimited spaces of time, both backward and forward. Underland presents an intertwined triptych showcasing three subterranean explorers. One of them ventures into cenotes in Mexico to map out and reveal evidence of ancestral Mayan uses of these caves. Another is an urban explorer taking viewers through the sewers beneath Las Vegas. The third is a theoretical physicist conducting experiments more than a mile underground in pursuit of proof of the existence of dark matter.

The last of these participants, Mariangela Lisanti, might seem more stationary in her journey than the other two, but that’s where Underland distinguishes itself from being just about material space. Lisanti’s work at SNOLAB relates to the mysteries of the universe, including its origins billions of years ago. Fátima Tec Pool’s archaeological findings in the cenotes also involve contemplation of a more recent yet still ancient past. Bradley Garrett shows us near-contemporary remnants of modern history and wonders how they might become the findings of some future scientists many centuries or millennia from now. Lisanti, too, considers later generations as she gives in to the idea that what she’s seeking might not be found in her lifetime or the next.

In addition to all that Underland makes viewers think about with its themes involving space, time, myth, mystery, memory, physical relics, and theoretical “ghosts,” the film offers a magnificent visual and aural experience. Director Rob Petit, collaborating with producer Darren Aronofsky, cinematographer Ruben Woodin Dechamps, editor David G. Hill, narrator Sandra Hüller (hopefully bringing in the Project Hail Mary fans) and composer Hannah Peel, has delivered an adaptation of Robert Macfarlane’s book of the same name that left me curious about that text but certain that no words could match the sensational cinematic treatment of its subject matter in front of me. I recommend seeing the film in a very dark theater with a great sound system and constant air conditioning pumping through the auditorium. Or, at least, as I did, on a large screen in a cold, dark room with noise-canceling headphones.

While much of the world is getting lost in the liminal spaces of Backrooms (a horror film I found disappointingly dull), I am thrilled to share a documentary interested in the seemingly limitless spaces underneath the ground’s surface and the definitely unlimited spaces of time, both backward and forward. Underland presents an intertwined triptych showcasing three subterranean explorers. One of them ventures into cenotes in Mexico to map out and reveal evidence of ancestral Mayan uses of these caves. Another is an urban explorer taking viewers through the sewers beneath Las Vegas. The third is a theoretical physicist conducting experiments more than a mile underground in pursuit of proof of the existence of dark matter.

The last of these participants, Mariangela Lisanti, might seem more stationary in her journey than the other two, but that’s where Underland distinguishes itself from being just about material space. Lisanti’s work at SNOLAB relates to the mysteries of the universe, including its origins billions of years ago. Fátima Tec Pool’s archaeological findings in the cenotes also involve contemplation of a more recent yet still ancient past. Bradley Garrett shows us near-contemporary remnants of modern history and wonders how they might become the findings of some future scientists many centuries or millennia from now. Lisanti, too, considers later generations as she gives in to the idea that what she’s seeking might not be found in her lifetime or the next.

In addition to all that Underland makes viewers think about with its themes involving space, time, myth, mystery, memory, physical relics, and theoretical “ghosts,” the film offers a magnificent visual and aural experience. Director Rob Petit, collaborating with producer Darren Aronofsky, cinematographer Ruben Woodin Dechamps, editor David G. Hill, narrator Sandra Hüller (hopefully bringing in the Project Hail Mary fans) and composer Hannah Peel, has delivered an adaptation of Robert Macfarlane’s book of the same name that left me curious about that text but certain that no words could match the sensational cinematic treatment of its subject matter in front of me. I recommend seeing the film in a very dark theater with a great sound system and constant air conditioning pumping through the auditorium. Or, at least, as I did, on a large screen in a cold, dark room with noise-canceling headphones.

A new documentary charts the decade long process of solving the 1992 murder of a young British mother

A new documentary charts the decade long process of solving the 1992 murder of a young British mother

Atsuko Okatsuka returns to the show! The comedian joins us to talk about how she bridges cultures with her work, crafting jokes that land wherever she performs. Atsuko cites Lucille Ball as a major influence when she was a kid growing up in Japan, inspired by the universality of her physical comedy. Whether it’s here in the United States, Taiwan, Japan, or on her global tour, “The Big Bowl Tour,” Atsuko is always finding new ways to tell her story.

In this episode, we dig into the creative process behind her most recent special, called “Father,” we catch up on how the global pandemic convinced her to embrace authenticity, how she keeps autobiographical joke writing fresh, why her bowl cut is a tribute to her inner weirdness, and when community building can be a good thing (and not at all cult worship!).

Atsuko Okatsuka returns to the show! The comedian joins us to talk about how she bridges cultures with her work, crafting jokes that land wherever she performs. Atsuko cites Lucille Ball as a major influence when she was a kid growing up in Japan, inspired by the universality of her physical comedy. Whether it’s here in the United States, Taiwan, Japan, or on her global tour, “The Big Bowl Tour,” Atsuko is always finding new ways to tell her story.

In this episode, we dig into the creative process behind her most recent special, called “Father,” we catch up on how the global pandemic convinced her to embrace authenticity, how she keeps autobiographical joke writing fresh, why her bowl cut is a tribute to her inner weirdness, and when community building can be a good thing (and not at all cult worship!).