Controversy Swirls, Legal Threats Fly After Sundance Documentary ‘The Stringer’ Questions Origin of Iconic ‘Napalm Girl’ Photo

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Among the countless iconic images out there, one that deeply resonates with me is a powerful photograph capturing a heart-wrenching scene. In this image, I see a 9-year-old girl, fleeing down a road in South Vietnam, her tiny frame exposed and wounded from a napalm attack, her cries of pain echoing through the frame. This poignant snapshot serves as an unforgettable symbol of the devastating impact of war, reminding us that its victims are often the most innocent and defenseless members of our society.

The documentary titled “The Stringer,” which created quite a stir at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, suggests that Nick Ut, the Associated Press photographer who won a Pulitzer Prize for his photograph of a girl running from a napalm attack in Trang Bang, did not, in fact, take the picture. Rather, it posits that Nguyen Thanh Nghe, a freelancer and NBC driver, was the one who actually captured the iconic “Napalm Girl” image. The film alleges that Nghe has been unjustly overlooked for recognition for several decades.

Prior to revealing this groundbreaking information, Director Bao Nguyen, along with Gary Knight, founder of The VII Foundation, and producer Fiona Turner, conducted interviews with 55 individuals. Among them were Nghe and a former AP photo editor named Carl Robinson, who alleged that he was forced to alter credit by his superior. They also utilized forensic data like photos and videos from the incident, as well as 3D modeling to substantiate their claim that Ut did not capture the image that made him globally recognized.

Nguyen expressed his hope that this movie encourages others to share their personal narratives. However, he found it surprising that, given the esteem he holds journalism in, there aren’t more individuals actively looking for these stories and instead seeming to stifle people from expressing their true experiences.”

“Nguyen expressed hope that this movie would motivate others to share their own stories. What has surprised him, though, is the prevalence of suppression in journalism, a field he greatly respects, where one might expect more people to be actively seeking out these stories rather than trying to keep them from being told.

He mentioned that this movie is not widely recommended for viewing, and there’s a good explanation for that – it’s thought-provoking. It exposes some harsh realities that may make you uncomfortable, but it’s strong, captivating, and it’s a narrative that hasn’t been shared for half a century.

The backlash towards “The Stringer” has been significant. James Hornstein, legal representative for Ut, stated via email that a defamation lawsuit will be initiated against the filmmakers soon. He further clarified, “The person claiming to be ‘the stringer’ alleges he was driving for NBC and transported the NBC team to Trang Bang. However, he was not functioning as a photographer on that day, and I am unaware of any photos he claims to have taken from that day or any other similar time.

Kim Phúc, the girl depicted in the photograph, declined an interview for “The Stringer” due to what she perceived as a baseless and untrue criticism of Nick Ut. Despite being in shock following the bombing incident, she doesn’t recall who took the photo, but other witnesses told her that it was Ut who captured the image of her fleeing in fear and agony. In her statement, she acknowledged that on that day, it was Nick Ut who escorted her to the hospital, allowing her to receive treatment for her injuries. Phúc expressed confidence that it was indeed Nick Ut who played a pivotal role in saving her life.

Conducting their investigation since they knew the movie was being made, The Associated Press undertook an extensive six-month examination of the background story of one of its most recognized photographs. They interviewed seven individuals who were present at Trang Bang on that day or had connections with the Saigon branch of their organization. The AP concluded, in a statement, that “our findings align with the historical narrative that Nick Ut captured this photograph.” In the absence of fresh, compelling proof suggesting otherwise, The Associated Press sees no reason to doubt that this photo was not taken by anyone but Ut.

Knight expressed that it didn’t catch him off guard that Ut intends to file a lawsuit. He explained, “It’s quite common for reporters, particularly investigative ones, to receive threats of lawsuits.” According to him, such incidents are part and parcel of the job. It’s just one of the risks you take as a journalist. Threats like kidnapping, murder, or being sued? Those occurrences are normal. They happen regularly.

It’s no surprise that “The Stringer” has sparked intense discussions and debates since it was shown at Sundance, considering it challenges a pivotal event in photojournalism. Supporters believe its detailed reporting addresses a historical wrong, while critics, including some who witnessed the incident, claim it distorts the truth and unfairly tarnishes Ut’s reputation.

Occasionally, heated discussions about the film’s quality have taken place at Sundance. On Monday, Fox Butterfield, a former New York Times journalist who saw an injured Phúc running away from the village during the same event that inspired the film, attended a screening of “The Stringer” in Salt Lake City. During a question-and-answer session following the screening, he challenged the filmmaker’s assertion that it was Nghe who took the iconic photo, stating that he found the movie unsatisfying. Butterfield, who had been interviewed for the production, also revealed that the “Stringer” team demanded he sign a confidentiality agreement in order to reveal their proof that Nghe was actually the photographer, which he declined to do.

In a conversation with EbMaster, Butterfield recounted the vivid memories of that fateful day in South Vietnam. He recalled not only the assault, where he saw Ut taking photographs of the event, but also visiting The Associated Press’ offices in Saigon to see Ut’s film being processed. Horst Faas, the AP’s chief photographer in Saigon, enthusiastically congratulated Ut on his remarkable shot. The photograph that Ut captured was featured on the front page of The New York Times, alongside Butterfield’s article about the attack.

He found it difficult to believe when someone argued that Nick Ut hadn’t taken the iconic photograph,” he stated. “After all, I was present at the event and witnessed the actual incident myself.

He recollects Ut capturing photos amongst multiple photographers and a film crew on that particular day. Additionally, he noticed the NBC team that day, but had no acquaintance with Nghe. Recently, it’s been reported that an NBC crew driver was actually one of the photographers. This comes as a surprise to Butterfield.

The ex-reporter for The Times worries that discussions about the ownership of the photo’s credit may overshadow why it has remained significant. In this image, Phúc and her family are depicted as they fled from North Vietnam, only to be mistakenly attacked by a South Vietnamese Air Force pilot who believed them to be enemies.

I found it truly chilling,” I admit. “The film served as a stark reminder of the heartbreaking price of friendly fire. Regrettably, my tale is forgotten, but Nick’s image remains etched in people’s minds.” (First-person perspective of a movie viewer)

Besides questioning the genuine reasons behind Robinson revealing Nghe’s claim about the photo of Phúc – a declaration that significantly influenced the documentary – Butterfield suggests that the editor might be harboring a grudge against The Associated Press. He contends that this animosity stemmed from the AP reportedly dismissing Robinson in 1978, as he put it.

Knight and Bao hold contrasting views. They suspect that Robinson, allegedly instructed by Faas to give credit to Ut due to his status as an AP staffer, felt compelled to reconcile with the freelancer who had been overlooked. The movie ends with a confrontation between Robinson and Nghe, where the editor emotionally apologizes.

Knight remarks that Carl is currently in his eighties. He’s a person who values integrity deeply, and he’s been carrying the weight of guilt for many years. Eventually, he felt compelled to reveal this burden as he could no longer endure it.

As a movie reviewer, I can say that the filmmakers make it clear that Carl Robinson was initially hesitant about challenging Faas for fear of jeopardizing his job and then later apprehensive about the backlash he might face if he went public. Nguyen explains, “People often wonder why Carl Robinson didn’t speak up sooner.” The answer, as shown on Facebook and Instagram, is evident – look at the personal attacks directed towards those associated with this film.

In the statement, the filmmakers challenged Butterfield’s viewpoint that Robinson was not credible due to his personal conflicts with The Associated Press.

Fox Butterfield was employed by The New York Times, yet he has no personal insight into the AP’s connection with Carl Robinson. Retired journalists from the Vietnam era often use this association to challenge Carl’s credibility and question his status as a reliable eyewitness. However, Carl’s personal relationships do not invalidate any of his claims. Our journalism did not substantiate its findings on Carl’s allegations but rather used them as a foundation for further investigation.

Initially, when the investigation commenced, the filmmakers had limited knowledge about Nghe’s identity and location. By conducting an extensive online search through social media platforms and public records, they found that he resided in California with his family. During interviews, Nghe revealed that he was compensated $20 for his photo and received a print, which his wife later tore apart due to concerns that the violent image might scare their children.

Nguyen stated, “He lacked tangible evidence to validate his claims, as he arrived in America as a refugee with his family. Being responsible for his family’s well-being, he had to adjust to an entirely new culture and nation with unfamiliar norms. He simply felt unprepared and unsupported, fearing any attempt to speak up might lead to criticism.

Both Nguyen and Knight think their movie is generating much debate due to its unique take on the war’s viewpoint.

Knight states that a particular group, consisting mainly of elderly white straight males who reported on the Vietnam War, are resistant to any change or challenge to their established reputation.

It’s frequently the case, as he points out, that Nghe, a local freelancer, has his work stolen or overlooked by Western journalists and editors.

Or:

As he contends, it happens often that Nghe, a local freelancer, finds his work either plagiarized or ignored by Western reporters and editors.

Horst Faas wouldn’t have attempted to steal my photo, Knight stated. He was well aware that as a Western photographer, I wouldn’t back down. I could’ve debated with him. However, there are numerous cases of freelance photographers, capturing their nation during war, when the coverage is largely controlled by the American press or military, who have no chance of being acknowledged or given a hearing.

On Saturday at Sundance, Nghe participated in the post-screening question and answer session with the “Stringer” team. Through a translator, he affirmed, “I was the one who took the picture.” Nguyen expressed that witnessing Nghe’s public recognition made the challenging process of creating the film rewarding.

Nguyen mentioned that he’s about 85 years old and recently suffered a stroke, making him quite weak. Despite this, he managed to rise slowly from his seat. As the crowd noticed him, they all quickly stood up in response and applauded for three full minutes. The old man was deeply moved by this gesture, his face lighting up with joy. It was truly a heartwarming moment.

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2025-01-30 01:50