- Visible and Powerful: Gloria Steinem (1934-2026) (September 3, 2026)
When I was seven years old, I came across an issue of Ms. magazine. This was in the early 1990s. I asked my mom what the term “Ms.” meant. She said it was a way for women to have a professional title without disclosing whether or not they were married. I thought about this and realized that I had only ever heard of Mrs. for married women and Miss for unmarried women, yet boys and men, regardless of their marital status, were called Mr. This struck me as bullshit (I was always a very opinionated kid). I immediately started writing my name out as Ms. Marya E. Gates on all my school assignments and have used that as my professional name ever since. That same year, I participated in the very first national celebration of Take Our Daughters to Work Day, which was the brainchild of Ms. Foundation for Women, going out into the forest on an archaeological survey with my mom. This was my first blush with the legacy of Gloria Steinem, who co-founded Ms. magazine and the Ms. Foundation for Women. A paragon, for better or for worse, of second-wave feminism and the nascent women’s movement of the 1960s and 1970s, Steinem passed away yesterday at the age of 92.
Born in Toledo, Ohio in 1934, Steinem was seemingly preordained for her role in the women’s movement. Pauline Perlmutter Steinem, her paternal grandmother, was a member of the National Woman Suffrage Association, chairing the educational committee. She served as a delegate at the 1908 International Council of Women and was the first woman to be elected to the Toledo Board of Education. Last year on the Substack for Gloria’s Foundation, Steinem wrote that her grandmother died when she was just five years old. She didn’t know much about her feminist history until later in life when someone wrote a monograph about Pauline’s life. In the newsletter, Steinem shares “I remember my grandmother for her own courage, but also as an example of the ways women’s history can be lost, even in our own families.”
Steinem’s parents divorced when she was just ten years old, after her mother had a nervous breakdown. She remained in Ohio with her mother, while her father moved to California. Steinem later recalled that observing how doctors treated her mother, as well as her mother’s inability to hold down a job helped her realize early on just how hostile the world can be towards women, especially in terms of their health and their ability to support themselves in the workplace. Stein attended Waite High School in Toledo before moving in with her older sister Susanne Steinem in Washington, D.C., where she graduated from Western High School. Steinem graduated from Smith College in 1956. A year later she had an abortion while in England while she was on her way to India. She dedicated her 2015 memoir “My Life on the Road” to the man who performed the abortion, Dr. John Sharpe, writing that he said to her “You must promise me two things. First, you will not tell anyone my name. Second, you will do what you want to do with your life.” She added, “I’ve done the best I could with my life. This book is for you.”
After spending two years in India studying as a Chester Bowles Asian Fellow, she returned to the United States where she was the director of the Independent Research Service. In her four years working for the foundation, she told The New York Times in 1967 that she had come “home in 1958 full of idealism and activism, to discover that very little was being done.” Unable to find funds from private donors, like the Ford Foundation, as director Steinem took funding from the CIA to send American students to the World Youth Festivals in Vienna in 1959 and Helsinki, Finland, in 1962. Although she claims the Agency at the time was “enlightened, liberal, nonpartisan, activist of the sort that characterized the Kennedy Administration,” her time working with the CIA remains one of the most controversial parts of her legacy.
Pivoting to journalism, in 1960 she became the first employee of Help! magazine in 1960 and as a freelancer her 1962 Esquire article “The Moral Disarmament of Betty Coed” took on the then-controversial subject of contraception. She also wrote trailblazing articles about the sexual harassment of Playboy Bunnies for Show magazine and abortion and civil rights for New York magazine, before co-founding Ms. magazine in 1971 alongside founding editors Letty Cottin Pogrebin, Mary Thom, Patricia Carbine, Joanne Edgar, Nina Finkelstein, Dorothy Pitman Hughes, and Mary Peacock. That same year, she co-founded the National Women’s Political Caucus and the Women’s Action Alliance. In 2005, along with Jane Fonda, and Robin Morgan, Steinem co-founded the Women’s Media Center, an organization that “works to make women visible and powerful in the media.” Along with her work in journalism, Steinem was an activist, taking on issues like the Vietnam War, advocating for the Equal Rights Amendment, the end of South African apartheid, and greater access to abortions for women across the globe.
Through her journalism and activism, Steinem became a celebrity in her own right. A 1971 photograph of Steinem and an Ms. magazine co-found Dorothy Pitman Hughes immediately became an iconic image of the women’s movement. Steinem traveled the United States and the globe as an activist and speaker. She appeared as a talking head on countless television programs like “The Mike Douglas Show,” “The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson,” “The Dick Cavett Show,” and others. She also appeared as herself in documentaries about other trailblazing women in politics and pop culture, such as Marilyn Monroe, Victoria Woodhull, Viola Liuzzo, Billie Jean King, Annie Leibovitz, Dolores Huerta, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Mary Tyler Moore, Cyndi Lauper, Bella Abzug, Diane von Furstenberg, Martha Stewart, and Katharine Graham. Steinem even had cameos on “The L Word” and in the cult classic comedy “The First Wives Club (1996).”
Her 2015 memoir was adapted by Julie Taymor into a feature film called “The Glorias” in which Steinem is played at different ages by four different actresses: Julianne Moore as older Gloria Steinem, Alicia Vikander as young Gloria, Lulu Wilson as teen Gloria, and Ryan Kiera Armstrong as child Gloria. In her three-star review of the film, Christy Lemire wrote, “What’s elegant and efficient in the storytelling of “The Glorias” is the way it reveals how each person and experience throughout her life shaped her ideology and sense of purpose. The Glorias’ conversations on a bus ride that serves as the film’s through-line illuminate this arc further. Sitting side by side, the wind in their center-parted hair, Vikander-as-Steinem laments to Moore-as-Steinem that she wishes she’d spoken up and fought back more when male colleagues and editors discouraged, objectified and harassed her. The elder Steinem reassures her that she will eventually: “Plenty of times, lots of times, speaking your mind will get you into trouble,” she tells her younger self with an amused smile at the memory of her own feistiness.”
That same year Steinem was also portrayed by Rose Bryne in the miniseries “Mrs. America,” which as Allison Shoemaker wrote in her review, is “the story of the fight to pass (or, depending on your perspective, stop) the passing of the Equal Rights Amendment.” Shoemaker also noted that “though Gloria Steinem (Rose Byrne, expertly cast—honestly, they’re all terrific) is one of Chisholm’s staunchest supporters, her own blind spots rise up with great frequency, often to the detriment of the brilliant women of color in her orbit.” According to IMDb, Steinem was listed as an executive producer on Lateef Calloway’s upcoming project about abolitionist and activist Sojourner Truth, which will include interviews with 10 of her bloodline descendants. Calloway shared a peek into the project’s production during Black Writers Week a few years ago.
Steinem also inspired leaders of third wave feminism, like feminist punk riot grrrl movement pioneer and Bikini Kill musician Kathleen Hanna, whose first introduction to feminism was when her mother took her to a rally in Washington, D.C. where Gloria Steinem was a speaker when she was nine years old. In a 2000 interview between Steinem and Hanna with BUST magazine, Hanna recalled: “My mom was a housewife and wasn’t somebody that people would think of as a feminist, and when Ms. magazine came out we were incredibly inspired by it. I used to cut pictures out of it and make posters that said ‘Girls can do anything’, and stuff like that, and my mom was inspired to work at a basement of a church doing anti-domestic violence work. Then she took me to the Solidarity Day thing, and it was the first time I had ever been in a big crowd of women yelling, and it really made me want to do it forever.”
Last year, the complex legacy of Ms. magazine was examined in the multi-part HBO series “Dear Ms.: A Revolution in Print” In her review, Cortlyn Kelly wrote, “To hear interviews of Steinem in the ’70s and ’80s sharing the same sentiments on women’s rights as she does today is reassuring of hers and the publication’s values, but concerning regarding our lack of social progress.” To this point, I was struck by a moment in one of Steinem’s final major interviews, for the BBC’s 100 Women series in 2023. Even at 89 years old, Steinem still used her airtime to advocate for bodily autonomy. When asked by host Faranak Amidi what she has to say about the impact of the reversal of Roe V. Wade, the landmark 1973 court ruling that made access to abortion legal in the United States, Steinem replied, “it’s not for me to say, except to continue to support reproductive freedom, the ability of each individual woman to have the right to children or not to have children, and do my best connect with and communicate with and support women who are supporting this around the world. Reproductive freedom is as basic, maybe more basic, than freedom of speech.” On the issue of bodily autonomy, in the last few years, Steinem also put her whole weight behind supporting trans rights.
Twenty years after I was first inspired by Ms. magazine, when I was just shy of thirty, I saw Steinem in conversation with Melissa McCarthy in Los Angeles. It was a stop on her book tour for her memoir “My Life on the Road.” It was an enlightening conversation, not just for what Steinem had to say, but for the way McCarthy pushed back on some of Steinem’s outdated terminology and ideology as often as the two women agreed with their aligned vision towards a more equitable world for all. With someone whose legacy is as complex as Steinem, it’s important to remember that even though she was a pioneer and a tireless advocate for women’s rights, she was not perfect and she was not the end of the road for modern feminism, even if she helped pave it. The important lesson to take from Steinem’s life and legacy is that the rocky road towards liberation and freedom for all takes endless work. There is no rest for anyone as long as inequality for some remains the status quo.
Let’s keep fighting.
- Peacock’s “The Paper” Starts To Run Out Of Ink In Season 2 (September 3, 2026)
The Peacock comedy series “The Paper” was co-created by Greg Daniels, who shepherded the American version of “The Office,” and has a similar workplace setup. (We even have Oscar Nuñez reprising his role of Oscar Martinez.) Still, even after a promising rookie season that introduced us to the obligatory dysfunctional but (mostly) likable characters, the odds that “The Paper” would ever match the enduring brilliance and longevity of “The Office” were slim to none.
Season 2 confirms that. While the 10-episode arc has its moments of comedic inspiration, with some sharp writing and a solid cast that continues to grow into their roles, I can’t imagine ever going back for repeated viewings, as I’ve done with “The Office” over the years. “The Paper” is breezy but uneven, pleasant but rarely memorable, clever but sometimes contrived. It seems poised to settle into a four- or five-season run as a respectable middle-tier comedy.
We pick up the story in the immediate aftermath of the Season 1 finale. The Toledo Truth Teller is riding high after winning in three categories at the Ohio Journalism Awards, but still desperately needs funds and is staffed mostly with inexperienced (and, in many cases, untrained) journalists. They’ll be hard-pressed to duplicate all those upset victories at the OJAs (which I’ve decided to call them).
THE PAPER — Pictured: (l-r) Eric Rahill as Travis, Domhnall Gleeson as Ned, Melvin Gregg as Detrick, Oscar Nunez as Oscar Martinez — (Photo by: John P. Fleenor/Peacock)
There’s also the matter of the nascent romance between Domhnall Gleeson’s editor-in-chief Ned Sampson and Chelsea Frei’s Mare Pritti, which is instantly complicated because Mare’s a reporter and Ned’s her boss. I won’t say where the relationship goes in Season 2, but Gleeson and Frei have a natural chemistry reminiscent of classic workplace couples like Sam and Diane on “Cheers,” and yes, Pam and Jim on “The Office.” Ned and Mare are flawed, authentic, and endearing characters; we root for them, and we root for them to figure out a way to be together. They deserve each other.
“The Paper” is at its best when it goes a little dark or politically incorrect, as when the staff pools their resources to put together an obituary for someone who turns out to be an absolutely terrible human being, or when Lisa in Human Resources (a hilarious Lisa Gilroy) asks wildly inappropriate questions to employees who dutifully report that they’re involved with a co-worker. I also enjoyed the tributes to old-school newspaper life, including a 125th anniversary celebration of the Toledo Truth Teller that doesn’t exactly go as planned, but still reminds us how cool it is when the latest edition of a newspaper comes rolling off the presses.
It’s also gratifying to see a number of supporting players carry their own storylines. Melvin Gregg’s Detrick Moore, Gbemisola Ikumelo’s Adelola Olofin and Tim Key’s Ken Davies are among the most memorable characters, with all three of these actors doing elevated work. When the ensemble on “The Paper” is cooking, especially when they’re pursuing a story in unconventional but sometimes effective ways, it’s really something.
THE PAPER — Pictured: Sabrina Impacciatore as Esmeralda — (Photo by: John P. Fleenor/Peacock)
Unfortunately, the series sputters and gasps in other ways. Sabrina Impacciatore is a talented performer who was absolutely sensational as Valentina on Season Two of “The White Lotus,” but her cartoonishly over-the-top Esmeralda Grand is more grating and boorish than funny. It’s such a broad and ridiculously drawn persona that it makes Dwight Schrute look like a Neil Simon creation. It’s as if Impacciatore is playing a series of characters in a sketch comedy show, and not anything even sniffing reality.
Making matters more problematic, “The Paper” features a number of other characters whose behavior veers into the genuinely bizarre and sometimes borderline unhinged. Yes, it’s played for laughs, and I’m a fan of the anything goes school of comedy—but if you’re going to travel down darker corridors, it has to be seriously funny. That’s not the case here. Some of the behavior here is so weird and alarming that you start wondering if each episode should end with a therapy session—or a police officer being called to the scene.
We know some of the best sitcoms ever have featured people who behave in truly appalling fashion. “Seinfeld” and “Curb.” “Veep” and “Arrested Development.” We don’t see that level of bad behavior in “The Paper.” It’s more unsettling than terrible, but it doesn’t have the level of precision comedy we’ve seen on those shows. It feels like the series either needs to lean even more into the shadiness of some characters, or have them get their respective acts together. The Toledo Truth Teller is a good paper. It deserves to stay in circulation.
Full season screened for review. Premieres September 9th on Peacock.
- Season Two of Netflix’s “The Gentlemen” Finally Finds Its Footing (September 3, 2026)
When season one of “The Gentlemen” debuted in 2024, it felt as if Guy Ritchie’s return to form didn’t quite know what it wanted to be. Part sequel to his 2019 film of the same name, part original crime drama, the series often felt like it was spinning in circles, with characters falling into tired tropes while delivering garish dialogue that often fell flat. But with this new season, the series is finally, albeit slowly, coming into its own.
Season two finds Eddie Horniman (Theo James) a year into his partnership with Susie Glass (Kaya Scodelario). No longer the reluctant duke we were previously introduced to, Eddie is now a rising crime boss, whose notoriety is as intimidating as it is envied. As their marijuana empire expands from the manors of rural England to Italy’s seaside villas, Eddie’s appetite for power grows, but not before it also begins to fester within him. Unlike season one, the series makes a case for denouncing power, while making it clear that once you have even a tiny bit of it, there is always someone willing to offer you more.
On the outside, though he may appear to be comfortable with the idea of becoming the head of this crime syndicate, Eddie’s psyche slowly begins to splinter. While he’s become more comfortable with quick bursts of violence, these acts result in haunting visions of his dead foes, and even a repeated vision of himself. In it, we see him cloaked in white with a crown upon his head, before a burning orange glow bursts forth from his eyes. The glow begins to simmer before overtaking everything in its wake, including Eddie’s body and soul. To become as powerful as he desires, Eddie must abandon his humanity, and as he slowly slips deeper into a dark hole of corruption, James in turn delivers a magnetic performance that makes this second endeavor so entertaining.
“The Gentlemen” makes it clear that Eddie’s not just good at being part of a criminal empire; he revels in the money, power, and chaos it brings. The choices he makes aren’t unlike the crime bosses we’ve seen in popular films and television series, but the problem with Eddie is that his crimes are tethered to those of so many different people. To be a true crime boss, one mustn’t trust the people he works with, and perhaps Eddie has become too comfortable. It makes for a thrilling deviation from season one, as the stakes intensify as he begins to pick fights with the wrong people, ushering in his own demise.
Although this season is a big step up, it doesn’t truly reach its true potential until about halfway through. But once lines are inevitably crossed and partnerships begin to fracture, the series finally starts cooking with gas. Even art auctions are engaging in this new version of what once was a dull story, the droning score whirling in the background of tense scenes and underscoring the feverish editing the series employs to show how rapidly events can change when volatile people are involved. While Eddie’s humanity continues to wane as this season progresses, the series itself finally feels alive.
With a back end that’s so strong, it’s hard not to wish that the episodes that preceded it were as engaging. As the series begins to gain its footing, it nearly takes flight, with the narrative finally soaring beyond being a run-of-the-mill crime drama. As Eddie and Susie’s desires become too big for their britches, they are both forced to slowly chip away at the wall that has always felt present between them and the show’s audience, allowing us to get closer and, in turn, become more invested in each of their stories. By eliminating both of their safety nets and some of their allies, the series forces its characters to grow, shedding the husks of the stagnant figures they were in season one.
Instead of zipping around and following an expansive cast, the series tightens its scope, letting audiences follow two central figures who feel like real people rather than caricatures from spy dramas of decades past. By deviating from season one’s pace and form, the series has become the sleek, gripping story promised in the show’s initial announcement. We live in an age where shows like this are turned out by the dozen; while it takes the series a handful of episodes to get there, “The Gentlemen” reinvents itself and ultimately becomes an unstoppable force.
All episodes have been screened for review. Currently streaming on Netflix.
- “Chad Powers” Remains a Ludicrous, Warm-Hearted Show in Season 2 (September 2, 2026)
The premise of the Glen Powell vehicle “Chad Powers” is ridiculous and doesn’t get any less so in season two. This is still a show about Russ Holliday, an epic flame-out of a quarterback, and his attempt to regain the spotlight as his wig- and prosthetics-powered alter ego, Chad Powers.
Yes, in season two, assistant coach, coach’s daughter, and Chad/Russ’s love interest Ricky Hudson (Perry Mattfeld) knows about the deception. And the central conflict is less about whether Russ can pull it off (although the tension of getting caught still hangs over everything) and more about what trouble backup QB Gerry (Colton Ryan) can stir up as his envy and suspicion of Chad grow.
Which is to say season two is remarkably like season one, same tone, same conflicts, same humor—with only the smallest of adjustments. The first episode feels like it could have been plucked from the middle of the first installment, extending the flavor of the Hulu series, if not doing much for the plot.
Thankfully, the pace picks up after that. Fans of the show shouldn’t worry—this season finale doesn’t blow up the premise, but rather swaps one antagonist for another. “Chad Powers” isn’t a show like “The Good Place,” reworking its set-up at each break. It’s more of the same.
CHAD POWERS – “8th Quarter” – Ahead of the team’s big bye week house party, Coach Hudson grows increasingly suspicious of Chad’s behavior. (Disney/Daniel Delgado Jr.)
GLEN POWELL
The same, and just as good, if not a little bit better, in round two. For one, the second season is funnier; there’s a bit with Russ’s dad (Toby Huss) in the “10th Quarter,” as the episodes are called, that is laugh-out-loud funny. Here, the jokes compound through a set piece that goes from jump-scare to hilarity to heart.
Friend and accomplice Danny (Frankie A. Rodriguez) gets more character development this season. And it’s good to see Danny as an empowered version of the overly used gay sidekick: this is college, after all, and he’s not taking any of the bullying common on high-school shows. But it’s also frustrating that while multiple characters allude to his sexuality, we still don’t get to see him so much as make eyes at a love interest. In a show with countless poop jokes, surely some gay flirting wouldn’t be too grotesque, no?
And of course, Powell’s charisma remains radiant. As wounded, asshole Russ, he’s handsome and terrible, continuing with his bad fashion and political choices, even as his search for real connection only grows stronger. As Russ-as-Chad, he’s awkward and nonsensical, but shares the same aching vulnerability. And it’s his journey that makes the show not just watchable but delightful, emphasizing the rewards of kindness and relationships amid off-the-rails kookiness.
The silly does take up a lot of space, though. Powell’s ability to deliver Russ’s bananas improvisations continues the comic relief even as the idea that Russ could maintain the ruse gets more improbable the longer the show goes on. How did they solve the helmet-wig issue of season one? What about the showers? The habitual, practical problems mostly fade in season two, although the gags with the prosthetics continue, including a game of misplaced nose that spans the entire stadium.
But even if Russ can figure out how to keep his costume on physically, how does he do it emotionally? Can a person really change their behavior so completely and so dramatically? It’s perhaps believable that Russ could do it on the football field, where there’s less talking anyway. But what about class? Like its predecessor, season two doesn’t venture into a lecture hall or laboratory. The closest we get is the cafeteria, and one college party—and both scenes reveal just how ludicrous the whole premise is.
CHAD POWERS – “9th Quarter” – After a tough away game, bad weather strands the Catfish in an Arkansas airport. (Disney/Daniel Delgado Jr.)
GLEN POWELL, STEVE ZAHN, CLAYNE CRAWFORD
And yet, it is nice watching a grade-A jerk learn to be, if not a good person, then at least a better one. Russ wants to play college football again, not just because he’s good at it, but because it’s the last place he felt loved. And his ability to form real relationships with Danny, Coach Hudson (Senior), and Ricky powers his evolution. He’s learning a whole different reward system than the one he existed in as Russ, moving from self-absorption to genuinely caring for other people.
That it’s all built on a set of lies that must, at some point, come tumbling down makes his evolution that much more poignant. Is his progress real? Will it withstand the storm ahead? It’s unclear, but it’s obvious showrunner Michael Waldron (working from a stunt by Eli Manning) has got the audience firmly on its lead’s side, despite all of his misdeeds.
In that way, the audience is in Ricky’s shoes, knowing better but still falling for this ridiculous character and his show. She’s often the voice of reason, trying to bring in a dose of reality in the sideways world she finds herself in, usually to no avail. Now in on the deception, she makes a series of wildly unrealistic decisions, including risking her career for the liar. Her willingness to do so only makes sense because: A. it keeps the show running and B. Glen Powell is such a force. In that, she’s like so many other TV heroines, defined by making a bad choice for the guy, over and over again.
Yet, with Mattfeld’s piercing eyes and lanky physicality, Ricky reminds us that it’s easy to be enamored with “Chad Powers.” No, it doesn’t make any sense. But rehabilitating a selfish failure who’s finally ready to change feels so good. It’s enough to make audiences and assistant coaches do some strange things, like heartily enjoy this show despite all its improbability.
Six episodes screened for review. Premieres on Hulu September 3rd.
- Female Filmmakers in Focus: Poh Si Teng on “American Doctor” (September 2, 2026)
Debuting at Sundance earlier this year, Poh Si Teng‘s “American Doctor” is one of the year’s most essential films. Filmed over the course of a year, the documentary follows three American physicians: Dr. Mark Perlmutter, a Jewish American orthopedic surgeon from North Carolina; Dr. Thaer Ahmad, a Palestinian American emergency physician from Chicago; and Dr. Feroze Sidhwa, a trauma surgeon from California of Pakistani Parsi (Zoroastrian) heritage.
During this time, the physicians volunteer their skills in Gaza at the Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis, with Teng’s film following them on the ground during visits before and after the alleged 2025 ceasefire. The film also follows them back in the United States as they educate and advocate for a true end to horrors they have witnessed.
Although this is Teng’s directorial debut, she is no stranger to world documentary filmmaking. She produced the Oscar-nominated documentary short “St. Louis Superman” and was the executive producer of the Emmy-winning feature “Patrice: The Movie.” Born and raised in Malaysia, she attended Taylor’s College in Kuala Lumpur and studied journalism at San Francisco State University, where she wrote for the student paper the Golden Gate Xpress.
After spending some time working as a journalist in India, she worked at The New York Times as a video journalist before joining Al Jazeera English, where she oversaw their documentary series “Witness.”
“American Doctor” director Poh Si Teng. (Watermelon Pictures)
As Director of Funds and the Enterprise Program at the International Documentary Association (IDA), she spearheaded a grant program for filmmakers with disabilities, supported by the Ford Foundation. She then worked as an Executive Editorial Producer for ABC News Studios under Disney. At the CPH:DOX festival this past March, she shared that, “A year into the genocide, I didn’t have any more words.” She subsequently quit her job and spent approximately $150,000 of her only money to kickstart the budget to begin production on “American Doctor.”
In her director’s statement, Teng shares sentiments that I deeply agree with. She writes, “As an American, I needed to speak out. We are deeply complicit in this war. This is not just Israel’s war on Gaza. It is America’s war, with billions of dollars of American weapons being used to kill children and the innocent…This film is our way of honoring those we have lost—and fighting for the living. It is about bearing witness, speaking truth to power, and refusing to look away.”
For this month’s Female Filmmakers in Focus column, RogerEbert.com spoke with Teng over Zoom the night after the film screened to a sold-out audience at the Music Box Theatre in Chicago (where Teng spoke with documentary participant Dr. Thaer Ahmad). We talk about why she left her career to tell this story, how she turned despair and rage into something positive, and why she still thinks documentaries can help change the world.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Towards the end of the film, Dr. Ahmad is trying to get into Palestine, but he can’t. He says he hopes his children won’t fail the way his generation has. You said in one of your Q&As that the seed money you put into the film was money you’d saved for your child, and you hope they’d understand someday. That feels like an interesting connection of sacrifice from one generation to the next. Had you thought of that connection when you were editing the film?
I don’t think so much of my own sacrifice because I don’t look at material things as something that I’m gonna covet because of my own upbringing. My mother is a staunch Buddhist. She always taught us children, all us kids growing up, that greed is the cause of all suffering; if you have something, you should be ready to let it go because nothing is permanent anyway. So when it comes to material things, I think it’s not that hard. Money comes, money can go, money can come back again. So that’s how I look at it.
My daughter and Dr. Ahmad’s eldest daughter are the same age. So, throughout the entire genocide as it was unfolding, and working on the material and seeing the affected children, it’s been hard. It hits hard. Every night, I definitely held my daughter a little closer. To the point that she would ask me, “Why are you hugging me so tightly?” and I’d say, “It’s because I love you.” I think it was my way of coping. As for our generation, I don’t know. I don’t know whether what we are doing is enough, but we just try.
You left your position working as a creative executive at ABC News to focus on making this film. I wondered if there was a moment when you realized you could spend your energy doing something you truly believed in, or if you had a revelation like that?
I think for me, I was just sad all the time immediately after the beginning of the genocide. Then watching these videos, especially of journalists being killed, that hit home. Especially one particular journalist who I’ve spoken about before: Samer Abu Daqqa. He was a cameraperson. My first job out of college, after the internships, was as a cameraperson. His death really hit hard. Then the silence among peers cut deep. So I thought to myself, I can’t continue. I really cannot. I didn’t want to be in such deep despair all the time. So I ended up watching stream after stream of videos and feeling helpless. I didn’t want to feel helpless.
That’s when I thought maybe I could use my work experience and contacts from the past 20-plus years, and maybe it could come in handy. It was all just trial and error. I wasn’t really sure. I was sure I was going to try, but I wasn’t sure what the final outcome would be. I knew I wanted to make a film.
It’s funny. Earlier, I was reading this text that my friend sent. She took a screenshot, and she sent it to me a few days ago. This exchange happened on September 16th of last year. I’ll read it to you. This was nine plus months into making the film. I said to them, “It’s been such a lonely journey when it comes to funding, only heartache, but things are changing.” They said, “Sometimes it just takes one domino.” I said, “Everything I hoped for when we began: that by the time the film is ready in a year, funders, programmers, hopefully the audience, everyone will be ready. Hopefully, we shall see.” Then my friend messaged, “I’m so proud of you, dude. You were meant for this.” And I said, “Let’s see how far we go.” That was almost a year ago. And so last night, Chicago gave everything that I dreamt of and more.
How did you first come across these three doctors, and at what point did you realize that their advocacy, their friendship, and their shared journey to Nasser Hospital in Gaza was going to be the core story you wanted to tell?
I think once I found Dr. Mark Perlmutter, it was very clear. He introduced me to Dr. Thaer Ahmad and Dr. Feroze Sidhwa. First, the film’s journey started when I quit my job. I took my money out because nobody was dying to fund a film about Palestine. I knew I had to put my money in first. I mean, I had skin in the game. I was determined to make this film no matter what. So it was good motivation, but I didn’t know what film to make.
Then I saw Mark in a news clip. A reporter asked him, “Why do you think there’s no ceasefire?”—this was in 2024—and he said, “There’s no ceasefire because politicians are *expletive* to lobby groups.” It was a breath of fresh air, and then Mark very soon introduced me to Thaer and Feroze. That’s when I thought, three doctors go into a bar, one is Palestinian, one is Jewish, one is Zoroastrian, and that bar is Gaza. It’s Nasser Medical Complex. Then I wanted to see how they were dealing and what would unfold in the coming months.
Thaer was the person that I filmed. It was Christmas 2024, and it was a lonely, lonely time. The first time I met Thaer in person, we were at a clinic filming the little boy [in the film]. This child who had come to the United States to get medical care. I saw Dr. Thaer be so comforting and gentle in how he approached the child and reassured his guardians as well, and I could see what a good person he was.
A few days later was the Muslim American Society convention in Chicago. I already knew from research that there are about 16,000 Palestinians in the Chicagoland area. So I knew right away I was going to open the film with the MAS convention. I wanted the American public, the general broad public, non-Muslims, non-Arabs, non-Palestinians, to see that this is America. So, we went into the convention center and boom. This is America. This is Chicago. And we invited the audience into the Palestinian American community.
Dr. Thaer’s story is so interesting. He is American, just like these other two guys, and yet he is denied entry into Gaza as a doctor. The way you weave him into the film is really impactful. I think people usually think if you have an American passport, you can do anything. But it’s not true. His Palestinian heritage means he can’t go to Palestine. That’s wild. Thaer’s story is a great way of showing the layers of this institutional discrimination around Palestine.
That was at the center of my motivation for making this film. As a woman of color, as somebody who grew up in a minority religious community where I’m from before I came to the United States, and as somebody from a very working-class background, I’m very perceptive to who gets to say what, who gets to do what, and who gets to go where. So when I met the three of them, that was always front and center for me. And of the three doctors, if I can be honest with you, I was rooting for Thaer to get in. I knew the chances of them getting rejected going to Gaza in March 2025 were very high, but I was rooting for Thaer to get in. So when Feroze and Mark got in, and Thaer got rejected, I was crushed for him. I didn’t even have the words to console him.
He actually spoke about this last night. He disappeared. He totally ghosted me. I freaked out because Thaer, in many ways, is the north star of this film, the heart of this film. When he disappeared, I called him, I texted him, I sent him flowers. I remember calling our director of photography, Chris Renteria, who’s based in Chicago, and saying I thought Thaer was mad at me. Chris said, “No, he’s not mad at you. Give him some time.” But I also realized how important it was to capture this moment. I knew from having spent time with him and the community that Palestinians are very polite, so I flew from New York City, where I live, to Chicago. I told him, “Hi. I’m in Chicago,” and he said, “Okay, come and see me.” That was when we shot the scene of him on the couch.
I think it was about a week and a half or two weeks after his rejection. I remember the conversations that we had leading up to that scene, because he was so in so much despair and anger. He wanted to go to Gaza to help his people, to be with his people. He said that he was embarrassed that he couldn’t help his people. I said to him, “Maybe there’s another role for you. Maybe you are not meant to be there. Maybe you are meant to be outside, to speak for your people. You are your people. You are the continuation of your people on the outside. So speak for them.” That was the lead-up to the scene on the couch where he was very honest with his anger and frustration.
I feel like even though this film is very educational, it is also a very angry film, filled with righteous fury. Like when Dr. Feroze talks about how our tax dollars are paying for this genocide. Our government has broken the social contract with the people who allegedly employ them, and this film states those facts very clearly. You have a scene towards the end where you have a news broadcast soundbite from Trump, basically saying that the IDF has used the weapons we gave them well. Then you show what weapons were used – destroying another hospital. It’s a really great piece of editing. It really drives home that the people in charge don’t care.
The film was born out of deep despair and rage. But I also realized if I didn’t convert that into something for myself—and I’m only speaking for myself—it would consume me. Hence the movie “American Doctor.” I’m still thinking about the screening last night. After the film ended, everybody was like, “God bless you, thank you.” It’s impactful when it comes from the community, or even people outside the community. I think to myself that I am so thankful and so grateful to be in Thaer’s world and Feroze and Mark’s world, because they’ve saved me.
Whatever your skill is, putting that energy towards something creative and hopeful is good because, as you said, despair can overwhelm you.
If you linger there for too long, it’ll consume you. I think acknowledging it is important. Acknowledging raw emotions is very important. I think it is important to acknowledge despair, acknowledge rage, and sit with it, but also to know that it will pass. This has been the biggest lesson in my faith. In Buddhism, we are not supposed to hold on to things, even emotions, even feelings. We’re not supposed to hold on tightly. We’re supposed to acknowledge the good and the bad, and that it will pass. That you cannot hold on to it, and so have faith that it will be better. So actually, making this film has been very experiential when it comes to the faith.
A scene that really stuck with me since Sundance is that opening sequence where Mark is saying you can’t blur out images of dead children; that it would be journalistic malpractice. Then the camera holds on those horrible images for quite a while. The film, for me, feels like it’s a film trying to convince people who keep looking away to stop looking away. Why do you think people can still keep looking away so many years into this?
I don’t want to judge other people. I look at the people around me, right? My own friends, and when I was making the film, I was so upset at the people around me because my mind couldn’t understand. It couldn’t process what I was seeing, and just the people around me and how they were. But of course, when I took a step back, I realized that there are a lot of things that occupy one’s mind, especially in the United States. Life isn’t easy here. We have ICE crackdowns. The unemployment situation. So many things right on top of each other. When you look at the situation domestically, so many terrible things are happening on a consistent daily basis. So when something is happening so far away, in Gaza and the West Bank, or in different parts of that region, how are people going to actually compute? These days, when I have more patience and I take a step back, I can see that.
During that first scene, I was frustrated. I wanted it in the film because I wanted to shake my friends and my family. I couldn’t understand, and yet I also understood. So, that’s why that scene is at the top, and why the film is the way it is. I wanted to speak to them, and I didn’t have the language anymore. Then Mark, Thaer, and Feroze gave me the language.
You produced “Patrice: The Movie,” which is so joyous, but it’s also a social change film. It’s really about discrimination at its heart, even though it’s a rom-com-style documentary. With these two films, both social-change documentaries, do you feel that in this era, where so many documentaries are being made, this medium can still help facilitate change?
Absolutely. The power of story can always facilitate change. It’s just how you do it. As a former studio executive, I watch how people watch things. We see what draws them in. With “Patrice: The Movie,” it was clear to me that people like romantic comedies. Seeing director Ted Passon’s vision, I thought, “This is the way we can highlight the inequality when it comes to the disabled community, to put it front and center to a broad audience.”
With “American Doctor,” I knew that Americans love medical dramas. They love “The Pitt.” I love “The Pitt.” So I thought, let’s give them “The Pitt,” but the difference is it’s real, and it’s set in Gaza. Audiences like to see interactions between doctors, healthcare workers, nurses, and patients. Let’s do the same thing in our film. Let’s show Dr. Abed and Dr. Ahem with Dr. Mark. Let’s show Dr. Feroze with Dr. Khaled. Let’s show doctors’ banter. Let’s show camaraderie, let’s show the love for life, let’s show the despair, let’s show friendship, using the elements of another genre, in this case scripted medical dramas, learning those storytelling techniques, and applying them to documentary. The difference is, in documentary, it’s real.
In this day and age, when so much is curated and fake with AI, people want what’s real. And last night at the Music Box Theatre, I saw that. I felt the yearning for reality.
Even if it’s hard.
Yes, even when it’s hard. Because what’s going to happen? It’s still in your mind, right? If you’re following it, if you’re reading news, it’s still playing in your mind. So what better way than to be part of the story by watching it, and then being in the community? That’s how one can process the moment. That’s how I’ve processed it. We’ve had the film playing at festivals for eight months now, and it’s out in the world. I feel so much more confident than I’ve ever been that, one, this was absolutely the right decision, and two, we are heading in the right direction.
