Understanding the limitations of the well-intentioned San Francisco School of documentary

I just watched the radically wondrous episode of Twin Peaks that includes the mesmerizing, basically impenetrable sequence inside the nuclear test cloud at White Sands. If you don’t know the reference, it’s almost impossible to do justice with words, and certainly impossible with my limited abilities with them.
Why isn’t there more crazy, wonderful stuff like this in the world? Why is this so…rare? How many videos are made for companies and non-profits every day that have virtually none of this innovation, bravery in tone, exploration, art?
It wasn’t always this way. Many years ago, when we were commissioned to make a video celebrating 100 years of the American Lung Association, we were given access to their entire film and video archive. The work from the 50s through the 80s was just…phenomenal. Curious, weird, funny, thoughtful.
What’s happened? Well — a lot. But one of the biggest things that’s happened is a kind of unconscious homogenization of corporate short documentary. These days, it’s all character and beauty. I call it the San Francisco School of Filmmaking, probably because I associate it with the good intentions and classic liberal values of Stanford graduate documentary work.
Before I even explain what this type of documentary filmmaking is: there are thousands of videographers in the US who know how to and want to tell a story in this way. It’s like…an unconscious army of makers. And if you’ve been making short documentary for the last decade or so, you know this style well. You might even be aspiring to it, or working on perfecting it as an expression of quality storytelling.
What is the SF School? It’s this:
hard worker + interview + nice shots
That’s it. Here is a person. Here is their activity. Their activity and setting are beautiful. Little interview sound bites. This is the entire story you need to know.
For a certain kind of video making (promotional corporate or social impact storytelling) the SF School has become an unconscious default go to. “What should we make? How about a doc?” mostly means, how about an SF School of Filmmaking doc?
When being pitched an SF School documentary, here’s what you’ll hear: “Just really show a day in her life, but make it super cinematic and beautiful.”
SF School projects prioritize slow, supported camera moves, shallow depth of field, close inserts of working/activity, and big wides because these convey respect and authenticity in the visual argot we’re all living in right now. I love all three of the Forklift projects here, for example, and they’re great examples of how this style works. Hiker made them a few years ago.
In and of itself, the SF School work has been beautiful and well-intentioned. You will look at these examples and think: that looks nice. Or he’s an interesting person.
But once you know the SF School logic, you will see it everywhere. Corporatized to the point where it has no freshness any longer, this idea of deep respect for the subject through these specific set of practices gives you an end product that can risk feeling cookie cutter, easily exchanged for any other San Francisco School project.
The olympic swimmer gets up early. The furniture maker crafts in the studio. The first-generation college student studies late into the night. Hard worker + interview + beauty.
Because the SF School is basically always trying to respect the people its profiling, the elements that it does prioritize — setting and character — are limited in what they can be. The “beauty” of SF School documentary is just a KIND of beauty: super shallow depth of field, ultra wides, saturated colors. The “characters” of SF School documentary are restricted, probably unconsciously and with a sense of vague respect, to a kind of noble range.
What’s getting lost? In the SF School, character and setting take absolute precedence over other elements of storytelling that some might consider even more essential than character or setting. Critical elements that have defined the best narratives for thousands of years.
Change. Conflict. Comedy. Vulnerability. Imperfection. Catharsis.
And that is very, very limiting.
We need the art of Los Angeles. We need the drift of Austin. We need the comedy of Chicago. We need the innovation of Bozeman. We need the conflict of Newark.
What to do? Well, there’s nothing inherently bad about the SF School — it’s just, there’s too much of it. So you can make one and feel fine about it. But as a filmmaker or commissioning agent of film, there’s a lot you can look to do to expand how you’re telling stories. And that might really help you to stand out.
Here are some ideas:
Introduce change into your narrative. The minimal definition by narrative theorists of a story is: something changes over time. What is changing in your story? How might you deliver a moment of catharsis? What is at stake for the viewer? What don’t we know that is going to change everything we thought we knew?
Break the rules. Zoom in shot. Change speeds. Introduce unconventional sub-characters. Remember the plastic bag in American Beauty? That’s an unconventional sub-character. So is lingering on the dog for a long sequence.
Elevate the human imperfections of your characters. Don’t indulge your love of your individual character to the point of forgetting your audience. Bring alternate POV and voice into the work by making braver, more unexpected reveals of who they are. Stop making everyone a noble worker.
Be more creative and reckless with your visual expression. Consider more in-camera stunts. For this piece on Sen One, a graffiti artist working with designer Rachel Roy, we shot on film, scratched the film, projected the film onto stuff and moved the stuff, and tried generally to connect the WAY of making the piece to the SUBJECT of the piece. There’s still a ton of character documentary technique in the piece. But that’s not ALL there is.
Surprise yourselves and us with a second or third act that is nothing like what we expected. Set something up that seems big and shift it to something else we didn’t see coming. Watch the film structure of Bottle Rocket, which goes somewhere completely different in its third act. How could you make a short documentary that totally shifts gear stylistically or in terms of storytelling half-way through? How awesome would that be? SO AWESOME.
Use comedy. Explore humor in documentary. Look for it, nurture it, bring it out, leave it there. Show us that the world is a funny, strange place. Dare yourself to the great, unexplored frontier of social impact work: making people laugh about something critically serious. Maybe you just let some of it in the side door during your piece and don’t ask it to stay too long. You will make an impact, for sure.
Use animation to change it up. Maybe even animate directly onto your image. Look for less slickness, more handmadeness. What if a set of punch shots found their way into your short documentary? Suddenly you are thinking about storytelling with some new, unexpected tools that will surprise your viewers. Do it!
Be grittier, edgier, badassier, braver. There is way too much content in the world already. One really good reason for you to be making work is to make it unlike what everyone else is already making. That means taking a few risks. Life is short. Do it.
Thank you SF School of Filmmaking. Now it’s time to go to bed. Because there’s a world full of new ideas and you’re suffocating them with your good intentions.

