
I just finished watching a fascinating, and frankly disturbing, new documentary. It really makes you rethink everything you thought you knew about that iconic Pulitzer Prize-winning photo from the Vietnam War – you know, the one of the little girl running naked from a napalm attack. The film digs into who actually took that incredibly powerful, but also deeply tragic, image, and it raises some serious questions about the story we’ve all been told.
The famous photograph known as “Napalm Girl,” officially titled The Terror of War, has long been credited to Associated Press photographer Nick Ut. However, a new Netflix documentary, The Stringer, challenges this claim. The film presents evidence, based on news footage from the scene in Trảng Bàng on June 8, 1972, suggesting that a local freelance journalist named Nguyễn Thành Nghệ actually took the iconic photo of Phan Thị Kim Phúc, not Ut.
“Nick Ut came with me on that assignment but he didn’t take that photo,” Nghệ says in the doc.
The Associated Press continues to stand by its accreditation of photographer Nick Út, and he was not involved in the making of the documentary. In a statement released through his lawyer, James Hornstein, Út expressed his disappointment that Netflix is distributing a film based on claims he disputes, along with eyewitness accounts and historical records. Hornstein emphasized that no new evidence – such as negatives, contact sheets, prints, or notes from the time – has emerged to question Út’s authorship. He argues that if solid evidence existed to challenge Út’s claim, it wouldn’t have remained hidden for fifty years, surfacing only through a few individuals whose stories contradict the many accounts given at the time.
The movie continues to generate a lot of discussion. Here’s a look at the documentary’s argument that Ut didn’t actually take the famous photograph, and how people have responded to it.
The whistleblower

In December 2022, Carl Robinson, then an AP photo editor in Vietnam, contacted photojournalist and VII Foundation Executive Director Gary Knight. Robinson wanted Knight’s help in revealing that he wasn’t the one who originally took the photograph. As he explains in the documentary, he felt it was time to set the record straight and ease his conscience.
In his book, Robinson remembers looking at photos sent from photographers Ut and Nghệ, both of whom arrived in Trảng Bàng separately after hearing about the fighting through their contacts. He states that the now-iconic “Napalm Girl” photo was undoubtedly taken by a freelance photographer, as confirmed by the film roll and logbook. While Robinson preferred a side-angle shot taken by Nick Ut, calling it more subtle, his supervisor, Horst Faas, chose the full-frontal image because it powerfully depicted the horrors of war. Robinson alleges that Faas instructed him to credit Nick Ut instead of Nghệ when writing the photo’s caption.
Faas’s order has“been with me the rest of my life, those words,” Robinson says in the doc.
Robinson explained he didn’t challenge Faas because he worried about losing his job and supporting his three children. He later admitted he always regretted not being brave enough to speak up.
Even after more than 50 years, Robinson is committed to clarifying the story while he’s still alive. Approaching his 80th birthday, he hopes to locate the original photographer and offer an apology before he dies.
Finding the stringer
Since Faas passed away in 2012, he wasn’t able to participate in the documentary. However, the Associated Press reports that he often spoke and wrote about the photograph, consistently confirming it was taken by Ut. Despite this, some photographers in Vietnam have long questioned whether Ut was actually the one who captured the iconic image.
Years ago, at a gathering of Vietnamese photographers, Robinson’s wife—who appears in the film—discovered they all believed Nghệ had taken the photograph. She remembers how deeply upset Robinson was when the photo first came out, and the attribution to Nghệ has always stayed with her.
As a long-time cinema enthusiast, I’ve always been fascinated by the story behind iconic images. I recently learned that some Vietnamese journalists, including Robinson, had private doubts about who actually took that famous photo. Things started to shift in 2023 when a journalist named Lê Vân in Ho Chi Minh City began asking around on Facebook photography groups. She posted a picture of Nghệ, the man who was in the photo, taken on the day it was captured, hoping someone could connect her with him. Luckily, a friend of Nghệ’s saw her post and let him know. He contacted Vân, and his account quickly gained some attention on Vietnamese social media, though it didn’t really break through to English-language news sites.

In the film, Nghệ shares his memories of the day of the napalm attack in Trảng Bàng, explaining how he captured what he believed was the defining image. He earned $20 for the photo, and the Associated Press returned his film along with a complimentary print.
He no longer has the photograph because his wife was furious that the Associated Press didn’t give him credit, and she destroyed it. He left professional photography and moved to the United States in 1975, taking a job at FotoKem in Burbank, California, where he developed films. When he moved, he could only bring one suitcase, so he lost most of his photography equipment and negatives from Vietnam.
The documentary captures the touching first meeting between Robinson and Nghệ at a California hospital, where Nghệ was recovering from a stroke. Robinson apologizes for his company using Nghệ’s name, saying, “I feel terrible we took your name.” He then places his hand on Nghệ’s and adds, “I want to say sorry. You prove my story is real, and I prove yours.”
Looking back at the moment the photo was taken
The documentary uses 3D models created by Index Investigations to show exactly where people were standing before and after the photograph was taken. They carefully studied photos and old news footage from ITN and NBC of the location to build these accurate recreations.
Based on the analysis, Ut was approximately 250 feet away from the camera 15 seconds after the photo was taken.
According to a recreation based on a photo by David Burnett, the photographer would have had to run three times as far as Kim Phuc in just three minutes to capture the image. Burnett wasn’t available for an interview for the documentary.
“Forensic evidence shows that it’s highly improbable that Ut could have been there to take the photo,” the film’s director Bao Nguyen tells TIME, “given the distance that you know was seen in photographs—photographs from the AP—that say that he was standing there much further away than he could have been when he was taking the photo…I want an audience to watch and make up their own mind based on this forensic evidence.”
Reaction to the film
According to his lawyer, people who were with the Associated Press in Trảng Bàng on June 8, 1972, as well as reporters from other news organizations, confirm that Ut was the photographer who took the picture.
Hornstein told TIME that theories about the photo’s creation don’t replace the importance of direct accounts from journalists who either witnessed Nick Ut taking the picture or examined the film soon after it was taken.
He stated that the documentary’s past recollections and technical guesses don’t offer enough solid evidence to change what’s already been officially recorded. Hornstein added that he is exploring all possible legal actions.

Kim Phuc, the girl famously pictured running naked during the Vietnam War, wasn’t involved in the documentary about the photo. However, she’s previously stated she believes photographer Nick Ut did take the picture – her uncle told her so – although she doesn’t remember the moment it was taken herself.
Following its own review, the Associated Press still believes Ut should be credited with the photograph, stating there’s not enough proof to change that. While it acknowledges others might have taken the picture, the AP maintains it’s impossible to definitively know what happened on that road in Trảng Bàng over 50 years ago.
World Press Photo conducted a detailed investigation and decided to remove credit from Nick Ut for the photo, but they have not taken back the ‘Photo of the Year’ award he received in 1973.
As a film lover, what really resonates with me about this movie is Nguyen’s hope that it will give a voice to photographers working in tough, conflict-ridden areas – places like Gaza and Ukraine. He wants them to feel empowered to share their own stories if they’ve gone through something similar to what Nghệ faced.
My parents escaped Vietnam as refugees, and their main focus when they arrived in a new country was simply providing for and protecting their family. They didn’t believe their experiences were important enough to share. I hope sharing my story will help people understand why individuals might keep painful secrets hidden for years, feeling they didn’t have a voice or a chance to be heard.
In the final scene of The Stringer, Nghệ reclaims his agency. We see him peacefully sharing a meal with his daughter, reflecting on his journey and declaring, “I took that photograph. And now, I have a voice.”
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2025-11-28 18:07