
Even if you do not know the context, most of you have seen the famous Pulitzer Prize–winning photograph taken during the Vietnam War of the young naked girl running down the road, stricken with terror, with other children amongst her, fleeing from a napalm attack. The photo is titled “The Terror of War,” taken at Trang Bàng on June 8, 1972, and the young girl is Phan Thi Kim Phúc, a now famous orator of her own experiences, due to that iconic capture, and known as “Napalm girl.”
It’s an image that encapsulates the adage of “a picture tells a thousand words,” yet this one tells a million. Those with a keen interest in photography and journalism will also be aware of the photographer credited with this famous shot, Nick Ut, a Vietnamese-American photographer who worked for the Associated Press. The photo won him the World Press Photo of the Year, and he rose to fame.


“The Terror of War” AP photo, attributed to Nick Ut
A Conspiracy Exposed
However, amid this story, a conspiracy emerges—an enduring claim that Nick Ut was not the photographer behind this image. Doubt was cast on the photo’s attribution, famously by Carl Robinson, Photo Editor at AP. Since then, it is claimed that a different person took “The Terror of War,” but due to a lack of eyewitnesses and certainty of who took it, they went by the pseudonym “The Stringer,” raising questions about photographic authenticity and ethics.
Netflix documentary feature The Stringer: The Man Who Took the Photo explores this investigation, shedding light on the famous Vietnam image. The evidence is so compelling that I am confident no one will ever again believe that Nick Ut took this photo. This is not a run-of-the-mill produced documentary. It’s a feature that will floor viewers by the level of detail, mixed with myth, whistleblowers, striking anecdotes, and forensic evidence.
Is This a True Crime Story?
The documentary could easily be mistaken for a true crime story. Its respect for crediting photographers and the craft behind it, especially in wartime, provides depth to the need for truth for those behind the camera. In blunt terms, a man rose to fame, was honoured and celebrated, for a photo he allegedly did not take, and to make matters worse, the source, a Vietnamese man called Nguyen Thanh Nghe, claims to have taken it, and was never credited or celebrated for it.
This photo is paramount to maintaining the humanness of our race. It represented a historic time. It represents the mere terror inflicted on children that entered the consciousness of the American people. For what this photo did and why it mattered means it’s a travesty that a scandal blights it.
The Cost of Stolen Glory
The Stringer: The Man Who Took the Photo evokes a sense of lost time, where the lack of truth brought moral torture, especially to those associated with AP and inclined to doubt what happened on the day the photo was chosen. The documentary delves into the professional nature of power, with journalists and editors daring not to challenge the now deceased AP Chief Photographer, Horst Faas.
The feature argues that the wrongful attribution of a famous wartime photo is a crime against humanity. I was often dumbfounded while watching how seriously this has been taken. How much it has tormented the minds of the guilty, and how it has shaped the preconceived view of the Western attitude towards Southeast Asia.
From the Vietnam War to the AI Era
Whether Nguyen Thanh Nghe or Nick Ut took the photo is crucial today. It represents ethics. The documentary also shows that nothing has changed despite technological advances on the human front. Think about it: the emergence of AI has startled the creative industries, forcing them to scramble to maintain their authenticity. AI is a major step-up tool for the human race.
In 1972, a single photo could be claimed by being in the wrong hands. Today, anything can be stolen and claimed with the push of a button. There are fewer steps and less need for witnesses. Stealing by “prompts” is now a success, without accusations of theft. Copyright on the web is quickly becoming a thing of the past as trillions of dollars are funding computation far beyond the human brain.
The Stringer: The Man Who Took the Photo reminds audiences what is at stake on an astronomic level. “The Terror of War” photo was a single item that was spread worldwide to challenge the morality of an absolutely useless war, and now, substantial doubt is raised about the credibility of the person who snapped it. If we relate this to photography today, we are talking about infinite possibilities for this to happen, at a pace we cannot control.
A Documentary Masterpiece
I’m unsure if this investigation into “The Terror of War” is coincidental & timely, or if technology today has spearheaded this case forward due to growing concerns in journalism, but one thing’s for sure: The Stringer: The Man Who Took the Photo is uniquely compelling but outrageous at the same time, and director Bao Nguyen has put his documentarian skills to the test to an incredible degree. He’s made one of the blandest question marks in journalism into one of the most intriguing true-crime-esque features of all time.
Closing Arguments
The Good
- The evidence presented is overwhelming and meticulously detailed, leaving little room for doubt regarding the photo’s true origin.
- Nguyen turns a story about photo attribution into a high-stakes mystery that leaves the viewer floored.
- The documentary is ironic today, connecting the theft of credit in 1972 to modern anxieties about AI and copyright.
- It effectively conveys the “moral torture” and sense of lost time experienced by the victims of this deception.
The Bad
- Viewers will leave feeling a profound sense of injustice at Nguyen Thanh Nghe’s erasure from history.
