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Who Really Took the Iconic 'Napalm Girl' Photo? Director of New Doc Addresses the Controversy (Exclusive)
Who Really Took the Iconic 'Napalm Girl' Photo? Director of New Doc Addresses the Controversy (Exclusive)

Yahoo

time23-05-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Yahoo

Who Really Took the Iconic 'Napalm Girl' Photo? Director of New Doc Addresses the Controversy (Exclusive)

As the lights came on at the Sundance premiere of the documentary The Stringer last January, there was no doubt for many viewers that one of the most important photos in the history of journalism — the Pulitzer Prize–winning 1972 snapshot titled The Terror of War — has been misattributed. In the months since, the controversy over who really took the devastating Vietnam War image better known as 'Napalm Girl,' which put a heart-wrenching human face on the horrors of the conflict and helped galvanize the anti-war movement, has only grown, even though the film has not been released and no distributor has been announced. The photo was taken after a napalm attack in the South Vietnamese village of Trảng Bàn. There were a number of journalists, cameramen and photographers positioned on a road as a naked nine-year-old girl named Phan Thi Kim Phuc fled the attack with others. The film uses archival footage, testimonies, forensic recreations and other means to investigate who really took the photo. More from The Hollywood Reporter Prince William Launches 'Guardians' Docuseries on Rangers on BBC Earth Digital Platforms Jewish Rapper and Comedian Kosha Dillz Says His Film's Canceled Screening Has Been Reinstated 'Raoul's' Documentary Set for Tribeca Festival World Premiere (Exclusive) For the first time, in an exclusive interview with The Hollywood Reporter, the film's director, Bao Nguyen, addresses the controversy over what has happened since the intense night of the premiere. The film makes a strong case that the the photographer long-credited with taking the photo in 1972, Nick Út, a young Vietnamese AP staffer at the time, did not take it and that a man ignored by the mainstream for 50 years, Nguyễn Thành Nghệ (pronounced 'Nay'), who was a freelance photographer, did. In the world of photojournalism, it was as shocking a conclusion as if someone proved that Woodward and Bernstein did not do their own reporting on the Watergate stories that led to the resignation of President Richard Nixon. Attendees of the Sundance premiere of The Stringer on Jan. 25 were surprised to learn after the screening that Nghệ himself was in the audience, frail but standing proud, saying in Vietnamese-accented English, simply, 'I took the photo.' Nguyen's film chronicles the work of investigative journalists Gary Knight, Fiona Turner, Terri Lichstein and Lê Văn as they tracked down the origins of the photograph through the fog of war and time. THR's Sheri Linden praised The Stringer's restrained structure as 'the stuff of Conrad or Dostoyevsky.' Yet The Stringer has been met with silence, or worse, contempt from many corners of the journalism world, with defenders of Út posting extensively on public and private social media. On May 6, then, the Associated Press announced that it had completed its own supposedly thorough investigation of the photo's attribution. AP concluded that Út was in a position to take the photo and said it would continue to credit the photo to him. On May 16, 10 days later, the influential Amsterdam-based foundation World Press Photo reached a different conclusion, determining that there was a good chance Nghệ or another photographer had taken the image and decided to suspend Út's credit. Út's lawyer James Hornstein, who has called the film 'defamatory,' issued a statement that World Press Photo's decision was 'deplorable and unprofessional' and 'reveals how low the organization has fallen.' Út, now 74, had a long career in photojournalism and received plaudits for decades for The Terror of War. In the wake of the recent announcements, Nguyen vows that one way or another the film, with new additions since Sundance, will be released this year — and expressed his own surprise at the reception The Stringer has received in the journalism community. This interview was done the day the World Press Report was released and has been edited for length and clarity. *** You've been busy. Bao Nguyen: Honestly, I don't ever want to be the center of the story. Why does the World Press Report matter? World Press is one of the leading voices in photojournalism and their investigation, as opposed to AP, was independent. AP was from what I gather an internal investigation looking at a former AP employee, And, I'm not a journalist by any stretch of the imagination, but … . Well, that's not true, but OK. For me, I'm observing the truth in a way, while Gary Knight, one of the main subjects of our film, is pursuing truth. There's that slight distinction. But World Press spoke to outside experts and forensics scientists to make their conclusion. They haven't changed or suspended a credit to a photographer [before] in their 70 year history, which is incredible. I applaud World Press for what they did and the evolution from what their executive director said when the film premiered at Sundance to their investigation since then. They're very thorough, and they essentially agreed with the forensics and the findings in our Press Photo executive director Joumana El Zein Khoury has written two pieces about The Stringer. In them, she admits her initial reaction after the Sundance screening was to come to a quick decision about the photo's authorship, but that she decided the organization should conduct a more thorough and thoughtful investigation. When Nghệ showed up at the screening, I wondered why this guy wasn't getting a bigger standing ovation. Have you been surprised by all the pushback that you've gotten? We were just happy that Nghệ could be there in his frail state. (Nghệ is in his late 80s). I can just tell you from speaking to him, it was a very emotional moment for him and the family and for him to be definitive in the Q & A and say, 'I took the photo,' which for me is bigger than any standing ovation. It is a unique experience when we're bringing on the subject [of a documentary]. We were surprising the audience, too. They didn't know he was there, and so I think it was still a very powerful moment and I wouldn't change it for the world. As for the debate over the attribution of the photo, we knew that it wasn't about relying on these institutions that have become the arbitrators of legacy and historical record for decades. It wasn't about waiting for them to bestow something to me as a filmmaker. It was about Nghệ. Having the chance to tell the world his truth and his story and his perspective on something that happened 53 years ago. To some extent it's not really the AP's story to tell. In a way, it kind of doesn't matter what they say. For me as a filmmaker, it was always, How do I listen to a story that someone has been telling within his own circles for so long, but never felt like they had the agency to stand up and, and say it publicly in a way that would be heard. Have you been surprised at the reception among journalists? I've been surprised by people's opinions towards something that they haven't watched, to be honest, especially among journalists. I grew up near Washington, D.C. I always dreamt of being a journalist and I wrote briefly for the NYU newspaper. I soon realized that I am bad at deadlines, and so I realized I wasn't the right person to be a journalist. I didn't have that intense attitude of going towards a story and getting that news very quickly. I think filmmaking fits my more reflective intention on life and storytelling. And, yeah, it surprised me that there were so many journalists who I've respected over decades that were angry that we asked the question — or that Gary Knight, Terri Lichstein and Lê Văn asked the question — of whether Nick Út was the person who took the photograph. I always felt that journalists were in the pursuit of truth. They're not necessarily the arbitrators of truth. But to ask the question, I think, is a key pillar of journalism, and so that surprised me — and again it surprised me that people who haven't watched the film made a judgment on the authorship. But you know, to be fair too, a lot of people who were adamant about Nick being the author are close friends of Nick or know Nick. Having a relationship with someone over decades, you would trust someone, right? I mean, you build that trust. I try to empathize and humanize that perspective as well. But I was surprised by the reaction from many journalists in that world. The other thing that you don't see in the news reports but you do see in the film is that Nghệ was probably the best trained photographer on the scene that day, and if you had to pick who was going to make a photo like that, he'd be a good candidate. When I learned that in the process of making the film, it definitely made me more firmly believe that Nghệ was the one who took the photograph. Is there any doubt in your mind who took it? I don't ever try to speak in absolutes. I truly do believe Nghệ is the one who took the photograph. A lawyer's job is to defend their client, but what do you think of Nick Út's lawyer's questioning of the documentary process, questioning the journalism? I've tried to stay away from those conversations and those debates. I think there's imperfections in the AP report, for example with the claim that everyone who is still alive from that day was interviewed in that report. Trần Văn Thân — the NBC sound person who, if you watch the film, was part of that cluster of journalists who could have taken the photograph — Thân was never interviewed in the AP report, and he is one of the living witnesses to that event. What's interesting from a filmmaker's perspective too, is that he was a sound person, and I think a lot of directors who work with really good sound people realize how much it's not just about listening. A great sound person has to watch, has to look, has to observe. So he was the most, probably the most observant person on that road, in that group of people. And he said he witnessed Nghệ taking the photograph. I find it strange that AP didn't interview him, especially as he is also one, if not the only, living Vietnamese witness, in addition to Nghệ, that could prove that Nghệ took the photograph. One of the themes of the film itself is that Vietnamese voices have been erased from the telling of this. Asked to comment specifically on whether the AP's investigation was done without bias and why Thân was not interviewed, Patrick Maks, the Director of Media Relations and Corporate Communications for The Associated Press, forwarded the statement issued with the release of the investigation. The statement says, in part: 'AP's extensive visual analysis, interviews with witnesses and examination of all available photos taken on June 8, 1972, show it is possible Ut took this picture. None of this material proves anyone else did. Our investigation has raised significant questions, which are outlined in the report, that we may never be able to answer. Fifty years have passed, many of the people involved are dead and technology has limitations. Maks also asked that links to the AP report, and an interactive feature be included in this article. How has the fight from Út's friends in journalism, and the threatened legal action, made it a challenge to find distribution? We are still in advanced negotiation for worldwide distribution. I think actually the debate and the conversation around the film makes it more relevant globally. It opens it up to audiences to kind of make the decision on their own. And I think that engages audiences in a much more complex way than having this sort of smoking-gun, definitive answer. I haven't been the one at the forefront of the negotiations about distribution, but I do think that [the debate] continues to push the film into the sphere of conversation. I can't tell you how many people have reached out to me asking to see the film from around the world. I mean, I made a film called Greatest Night in Pop [about the recording of the star-studded single 'We Are the World']. When I made that film, I also didn't think that the song 'We Are the World' had such a global reach, but it did. And this film, The Stringer, has an exponentially larger reach than I had ever imagined with Greatest Night in Pop. When might people be able to see it? We're in negotiations for worldwide distribution, and we expect to share the film this year with audiences around the world. For me, no matter what, this film is gonna be shared around the world this year because it's so important for me to share Nghệ's story. We got a message from Nghệ's's daughter today that Nghệ heard the news from World Press. He is in a frail state, but she shared to us that he felt a little better today. And that means a lot to me as someone who has been entrusted to be the custodian of his story. That gives me a bit of hope. Best of The Hollywood Reporter Hollywood's Most Notable Deaths of 2025 Harvey Weinstein's "Jane Doe 1" Victim Reveals Identity: "I'm Tired of Hiding" 'Awards Chatter' Podcast: 'Sopranos' Creator David Chase Finally Reveals What Happened to Tony (Exclusive)

World Press Photo suspends credit for ‘Napalm Girl' image
World Press Photo suspends credit for ‘Napalm Girl' image

Yahoo

time21-05-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Yahoo

World Press Photo suspends credit for ‘Napalm Girl' image

[Source] World Press Photo has suspended the credit of Associated Press photographer Nick Ut for the iconic Vietnam War photograph commonly known as 'Napalm Girl,' citing unresolved questions about its authorship. The decision follows renewed scrutiny raised by a recent documentary that challenges Ut's long-standing attribution. The 1972 image, officially titled 'The Terror of War,' shows 9-year-old Phan Thi Kim Phuc running naked on a road after a napalm bombing. It won the Pulitzer Prize and World Press Photo of the Year in 1973 and became one of the most searing symbols of the Vietnam War. Authorship in doubt The controversy stems from 'The Stringer,' a 2025 documentary directed by Bao Nguyen. The film presents testimonies and visual analysis suggesting that freelance photographers Nguyen Thanh Nghe or Huynh Cong Phuc may have captured the image, not Ut. Nghe claims he sold the photo to the AP for $20 but never received formal credit. Trending on NextShark: In response, World Press Photo launched an internal investigation and reviewed archival materials, camera angles and witness statements. The organization concluded that the doubts were substantial enough to suspend Ut's credit, though it has not reassigned authorship due to lack of definitive evidence. AP stands by Ut Ut has denied the claims, saying he remembers taking the photo and helping Phan Thi Kim Phuc get medical care. His attorney, James Hornstein, criticized World Press Photo's decision, telling The Art Newspaper that Ut 'cannot fathom why the World Press Photo Foundation would rescind his rightful award 52 years after making it.' In a statement to the Associated Press, Hornstein added, 'It seems they had already made up their mind to punish Nick Ut from the start.' Trending on NextShark: The AP has conducted two reviews of its own, reaffirming Ut's credit. In a statement, the AP said it found no compelling evidence to override decades of attribution, but acknowledged that the passage of time limits further verification. Phan Thi Kim Phuc has also spoken in support of Ut. 'He took the picture, and he saved my life,' she told The Guardian. 'Without him, I would have died.' Historical stakes Trending on NextShark: While the image's historical significance remains uncontested, the suspension reflects ongoing debates about ownership, credit and accuracy in journalism. World Press Photo said it will maintain the suspended status until new evidence clearly confirms or refutes Ut's authorship. This story is part of The Rebel Yellow Newsletter — a bold weekly newsletter from the creators of NextShark, reclaiming our stories and celebrating Asian American voices. Trending on NextShark: Subscribe free to join the movement. If you love what we're building, consider becoming a paid member — your support helps us grow our team, investigate impactful stories, and uplift our community. Subscribe here now! Trending on NextShark: Download the NextShark App: Want to keep up to date on Asian American News? Download the NextShark App today!

'Napalm Girl,' now 62, says don't turn from ugly reality of war
'Napalm Girl,' now 62, says don't turn from ugly reality of war

The Mainichi

time04-05-2025

  • General
  • The Mainichi

'Napalm Girl,' now 62, says don't turn from ugly reality of war

TORONTO (Kyodo) -- Of all the photos of all the conflicts of the past century, one from the Vietnam War sent shock waves around the world, searing the horror into the minds of millions of people. The Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph shows a 9-year-old girl crying as she runs down a road, her naked body severely burned by a napalm attack. Ahead of the 50th anniversary of the end of the war on April 30, Phan Thi Kim Phuc, now 62, the South Vietnamese-born Canadian woman depicted in the photo, shared her hope that people will not turn away from the ugly reality of children being sacrificed in war. The image -- widely considered one of the most iconic symbols of the war -- came to torment Kim Phuc before she understood its power to convey the horrors of war. Chatting with her today, her exuberance, laughter and smiles belie her painful past. On June 8, 1972, Kim Phuc, other family members and villagers had taken shelter at a temple in the town of Trang Bang in Tay Ninh Province, but South Vietnamese soldiers on duty suddenly yelled for everyone to flee. The children had been playing in the temple courtyard. When Kim Phuc got onto the road, she turned briefly and saw a plane drop four bombs. She heard a deep concussive wave of muted thunderclaps. A roaring inferno of thick greasy blooms followed, flames rapidly spreading. Packed with an incendiary mixture of a gelling agent and volatile petrochemicals, the fire quickly engulfed Kim Phuc's clothes, left arm and back. "Suddenly there was fire everywhere around clothes burned off," Kim Phuc told Kyodo News in a recent interview in the suburbs of Toronto where she now resides. South Vietnamese bombers had mistakenly dropped napalm on Trang Bang, which had been attacked and occupied by the North Vietnamese. Kim Phuc tried to pat out the flames with her right hand. She continued to run with the other terrified children while crying, "Too hot! Too hot!" Associated Press photographer Nick Ut captured the moment in the black-and-white image that ran in newspapers around the world. Titled "The Terror of War," the photo won a Pulitzer Prize. The U.S. military made extensive use of napalm munitions developed in World War II and sprayed Agent Orange defoliant in the dense forests where the Liberation Army of South Vietnam was based. During the attack, Kim Phuc passed out after a South Vietnamese soldier poured water over her, and she had no recollection of what happened immediately afterward. Two of her relatives, including her 3-year-old "favorite cousin," died in the attack. Ut helped put Kim Phuc in an AP van that rushed her to the nearest hospital. "Their stories became my story because I passed out. They told me about it later," she said. The first facility she was taken to was unable to treat her, and at the second, a children's hospital in Saigon, she was given a slim chance of survival. After a few days' search, her mother and brother found her in the hospital's morgue, where she had been left for dead. But at her father's insistence, Kim Phuc was moved to a burn clinic, where she received life-saving blood transfusions from her mother via her ankle, as it was almost impossible to find a vein in other parts of her dehydrated body. She had several skin grafts, had to take burn baths and underwent other treatments including excision of burnt skin that was so painful she would often pass out. She was in the hospital for such a long period that she forgot how to walk. A little over a year later, when she first saw Ut's photo published in a local newspaper, Kim Phuc felt a strong sense of disgust, wondering why a photo of her looking "so naked, so ugly" had been taken and printed. "I hated that picture, of course, the first time. I was a little girl," she said. "All people want to take beautiful pictures to have good memories, but that was not a good memory." Physical and emotional scars ran deep and she became pessimistic about her future. When she returned to her home, her close friend shunned her out of fear of her scars. "I don't blame her because as a child she was scared to death to see her friend so different. It just broke my heart." Because of the scars and constant pain, Kim Phuc thought that she would never get married later in life or have "a normal family." She would hide her scars under her clothing whenever possible. Kim Phuc had admired the doctors at the hospital who treated her with compassion, so she studied hard and entered medical school in 1982. However, the photo shattered her dream. The Vietnamese government had rediscovered her as the "Napalm Girl." At the request of foreign media seeking an interview with her, the government used her as a symbol of anti-American sentiment. Officials often called her for interviews and later forced her to drop out of school. "They controlled me. I became a prisoner," she said. It was during such dark times that Kim Phuc thought she would have been better off if she had died in the napalm attack. Searching for meaning in survival, she read religious books, became interested in Christianity, and later converted. She felt her spirit soar when she "forgave and prayed for her enemies," she said. In 1986, she was allowed to study in Cuba, a welcome respite from the constant barrage of foreign media looking to retell her story. In Havana, she met her future husband, a student from North Vietnam, and they married in 1992. On the return journey from their honeymoon in Moscow, the newlyweds had a layover in Newfoundland, Canada, and successfully sought asylum. They settled in Toronto and had two sons. Even in Canada, Kim Phuc feared media attention. In 1995, she was discovered by a British journalist in Toronto, who took her photo in public and published it without her permission. At first, she tried to hide from her past, but eventually for the sake of all children she decided to embrace the photo as "a powerful gift" to support antiwar efforts. She established The Kim Foundation International to support children who have been victimized by war. Through her foundation and public speaking engagements, she aims to educate people about the devastating impacts of war and promote messages of peace, healing, and understanding. Along with other images of children suffering, Ut's photo of Kim Phuc had a huge impact internationally, resulting in growing opposition to the war. South Vietnam surrendered to North Vietnamese forces on April 30, 1975. Kim Phuc says she is heartbroken by the children who have been killed in Russia's invasion of Ukraine and in the fighting in the Gaza Strip. She believes the world must bear witness to their suffering. "No matter how ugly and cruel the pictures are, they are the reality of war, and people have to face them," she said.

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