Unveiling the Truth of Documentary Filmmaking with Susanne Rostock

By Kelly Darroch

Within the adorned walls of her luminous Manhattan apartment, Susanne Rostock sat with her short, red hair in her well-worn living room. She looked right at home amongst the bright wood-framed paintings, colorful pillows, sunflowers, antique mirrors, and various other trinkets — a reflection of the life she has built in that space since 1972. 

Photo Provided by Susanne Rostock

Sitting at her 200-year-old wooden store counter, which functions as a dining table and workstation, she was face-to-face with her AVID — a pro-grade video editing software. What appears to be an eclectic living room serves a dual purpose as the location for editing her three current film projects.

“At this end, I edit, at that end we dine,” said Rostock. This setup is convenient when she has a spontaneous idea in the middle of the night and only has to walk a few steps from her bedroom, which is not unusual for a filmmaker of over five decades.

Rostock is most recently known for her two documentaries following activist and artist Harry Belafonte in Following Harry (2024) and Sing Your Song (2011), which was shortlisted for an Academy Award, according to the Los Angeles Times. Whether Rostock was working with David Bowie or working to free Leonard Peltier from prison, she has aimed to convey the truth and justice to her audience through editing, directing, and producing. Following Harry alone tackled a heavy catalog of issues: the aftermath of Trayvon Martin’s death, Belafonte’s engagement in the Ferguson protests, the 2017 Women’s March on Washington, D.C., and the first inauguration of Donald Trump. Given the current political climate in the United States, addressing such topics is becoming increasingly difficult.

The creative gene was inherited from what she described as her “artistic, very bohemian, Marxist” parents, who met in America after escaping WWII. Her mother, who emigrated from Denmark, and her father, from Czechoslovakia, were doctors who operated on a stern philosophy of giving back to the world. 

“Being a doctor, you don’t have to explain that,” said Rostock. “I saw that telling the stories of other people and other cultures was a way of connecting people and maybe making peace.”

As a child, she had ambitions of following in her parents’ footsteps into the medical field. Rostock recalled fond memories of Friday night dissections of animals her father brought back to their home in Brooklyn. She would take her slides and peer through the microscope in her basement lab. Years later, when her empathetic nature prevented her from becoming an objective doctor, she explored other options that ushered her down the path to filmmaking. 

Although film was ever-present in her upbringing, as she regularly frequented the cinema and indulged in foreign films with her parents, the magic of storytelling clicked for Rostock after she won a Latin poetry contest in 8th grade. The prize was seeing Fellini’s 8 ½ with her teacher, Madame Tucci. They sat in the theater together, Rostock in short socks, and Madame Tucci with a cigarette and sophistication. She was transformed. “I never thought I would make them, but starting in eighth grade, I understood I had to see a lot of films,” Rostock explained.

During her undergraduate studies at Columbia University, after her brief stint as a pre-med student, she stumbled upon anthropology. Throughout this time, she studied ethnographic filmmaking under renowned anthropologist Margaret Mead, “one of the most widely known intellectuals in America,” as described by The New Yorker for her groundbreaking contributions to gender roles studies and adolescence in non-Western cultures. “She was tough, the classes were big,” Rostock clarified. “But she had a way of speaking to you so that you really were with her.”

Attending graduate school at the New York University Film and Television program allowed her to learn under countless film icons like Roberto Rossellini, Robert Frank, John Cassavetes, and Shirley Clarke — the majority of whom, after reflection, she realized were all men. The film classes were small, with roughly only five out of thirty being women. The long and arduous course enrollment process rarely invested in students who were women. “That's 1970, you know,” Rostock acknowledged. “It was brutal to be a woman then in film, in anything!” 

Rostock also went on to teach an editing master class for several years at NYU, in addition to her numerous projects. One of the major lessons she focused on was how to open the beginning of a film, or “the art of opening a story.” A film she edited, Paternal Instinct (2004), directed by Murray Nossel, about two gay men who use a wicken as their surrogate, served as a valuable example for editing a film’s opening. Nossel’s original vision for the opening was for it to begin like Ingmar Bergman’s Persona (1966), an avant-garde Swedish psychological drama. Nossel had asked Rostock if she knew the film, an almost offensive question to her. “Everyone wanted to be Bergman when I was in film school, including me,” said Rostock. Nossel brought her to a dark room, only dimly lit by candles and the glow of the projector, and they watched the Persona opening together. Rostock did just as requested and cut the “Persona opening” of the film. It was a moving collage of swimming embryos, the two men in the water, and the wicken chanting. Rostock loved it, but she knew it simply was not right for this film. Nossel eventually reached the same conclusion and decided he wanted a more “Woody Allen” opening. She had a version in her back pocket that wasn’t necessarily Woody Allen, but it was perfect. 

Rostock takes great pride in the work she produces and the long process she pours into it.

“There isn’t a formula,” Rostock remarked. “I mean, there is a formula that people follow, but you don’t have to follow it.” Rostock’s process is something she claims “drives producers crazy.” She does not like to lay out a film from beginning to end and then start working on it. Instead, Rostock starts at the beginning and weaves. She has a general idea of where she wants to begin and end, but does not limit herself to a structured layout. “If you lay it out, you keep putting band-aids on it, trying to make it work,” said Rostock.

Documentary filmmaker and UC Santa Barbara Professor Wendy Jackson, who is actively navigating the uncertainty of the film world, acknowledged her appreciation for women filmmakers such as Rostock who spearhead efforts of advancement and resistance, and chart their own course. 

“She’s a woman blazing trails, and the person who blazes the trail gets the headache; the rest of us just get the residual,” said Jackson. “I honor her and her work, and I’m deeply grateful for someone that's willing to push the boundary and push back on things that are not making sense for the rest of us.”

Rostock has always looked to the women in her field, as well as those outside her immediate practice of filmmaking. This admiration extended especially to Joan Didion: writer, essayist, novelist, memoirist, and journalist. Her intellect, style, and unabashed influence on the literary and art world fascinated Rostock to the extent that she describes her as a longtime “hero.” Unbeknownst to her, Rostock would one day work closely with her hero. 

One afternoon after Easter had just passed, Rostock was having lunch with actor and director Griffin Dunne, whom she was previously unaware of being Didion’s nephew. He asked her what she did for the holiday, to which she replied that she did “very little,” being Jewish and a vegetarian. Dunne was quick to enlighten her that he spent Easter with his Auntie Joan and Patti Smith, and proceeded to present a video of Smith playing guitar and singing at their Easter celebration. They were eventually inspired to work on a project together involving his aunt, Joan Didion.

After Didion published Blue Nights (2011), her memoir accounting the passing of her daughter Quintana, Rostock and Dunne approached Knopf Publishing in hopes of collaborating on what would later become Netflix’s Joan Didion: The Center Will Not Hold (2017). A few years into filming, as Didion’s Parkinson’s progressed and funding gradually diminished, Dunne asked Rostock to step away from the project. “She’s my aunt,” Dunne told Rostock. Despite her years-long involvement with the bulk of the filming process, she only holds a producing credit. Dunne made the executive decision to be the sole director and editor of the film. The film resulted in mixed reviews, as the New York Times suggests, “The relationship between Mr. Dunne and Ms. Didion limits the movie in certain ways, but opens it up in others.”

Susanne Rostock, Joan Didion, and Griffin Dunne | Getty Images

The film is not something Rostock seeks recognition for. “It was never good enough because it wasn’t magical enough,” Rostock sighed. “It just wasn’t her.” Rostock attributes this partly to Dunne’s overinsertion of himself in the film, failing to capture the range of Didion’s perspectives, and instead focusing on his relationship with his aunt. She believes it is worth watching for Didion herself, but the final outcome of the film breaks her heart. Still, Rostock cherishes memories of Didion spending time with her in her office, cutting room, and in Central Park, where they lived just on opposite sides of the park from one another. “Stay open, because I never expected to know Joan Didion in the way I did,” she smiled.

Rostock’s vision and process have garnered her quite a positive reputation with other figures as well. Jamaican-American actor, singer, and activist Harry Belafonte, who grew to be a close friend of Rostock, personally convinced her to direct Sing Your Song (2011). Before Rostock joined the project, the film was looking one-dimensional, with endless interviews of celebrities raving about how wonderful Belafonte was. When the producer presented Rostock the footage, she found herself yelling at the television out of frustration. She believed they didn’t need to display person after person declaring how phenomenal a person Belafonte was; they needed to show it. At the moment, Rostock did not have the time to work on the film herself, so she simply told the producer they needed to start from scratch. 

One day, she heard a knock on her cutting room door. It was Belafonte. He asked if she had anything to eat. They proceeded to eat cookies, drink tea, and converse for hours. “I’ve seen your work, I think you know what to do with my story,” he finally said. She simply could not refuse. With Rostock behind the camera, the film, although reflective of his past, allowed Belafonte to tell his own story, from past to present. It was an exhibition of his life that presented the audience with who Harry Belafonte was and is.

Photo of Susanne Rostock and Harry Belafonte | Provided by Susanne Rostock

By the time Rostock directed her next film about Belafonte, Following Harry (2024), they were deeply embedded in one another’s lives. They shared an office space and lived a brief walk down the block apart. “At the end of each day, he would walk across the loft and sit down in my office with two glasses of rum,” Rostock said, “Straight rum is pretty hard to take, so I’d sit there and pretend to drink it.” Together, they would talk, cry, fight, and laugh. Belafonte had a knack for telling dirty jokes, which she later learned he quietly stole from his daughter. 

His commitment to social justice extended beyond all other passions, yet he lived every day with the sinking feeling that he could never do enough. “He always said he was an activist first and artist second, but I think he was equal,” said Rostock. “His activism came so much from his heart.”

Much of the filming for Following Harry overlapped with another ongoing project of hers, Another Night in the Free World, which follows three women, feminist and political activists. The interactions with activists and community members across the world were truly the most rewarding aspect for Rostock. Poets like Aja Monet, activists like Carmen Perez, and young community members weren’t just journalistic subjects— they became true friends. They stayed in her home, and she stayed in theirs. She celebrated birthdays, marriages, and the other ups and downs of life, and above all, learned what it takes to do the work they do. “It’s such a gift, and film can then offer that gift to other people,” Rostock said, holding back tears. “When you experience it firsthand, I don’t know, it’s just remarkable.”

Photo of Susanne Rostock interviewing Aja Monet | Provided by Susanne Rostock

Despite the value of documentary films to the public, funding often does not reflect that. When Rostock finished grad school, she received grants to make films for the first few years, but as funding dried up, she turned to editing.

 Editing allowed her to make a living while providing the space for her to grow. Rostock’s major caveat with filmmaking is the reliance on funding to be able to grow your skillset. “As an artist in other art forms, you can grow much faster because you do it all the time,” she explained. She both loves and doesn’t love that film is such a collaborative medium. Communication with others, both in production and through the screen, is the ultimate reward, but reliance on others, especially financially, is a major obstacle.

In the world of editing, Rostock found her filmmaking confidant: Michael Apted, best known for his Oscar-nominated film Coal Miner’s Daughter (1980) and the Up Series (1964-2013). The pair collaborated on films such as Inspirations (1997), Moving the Mountain (1994) — a detailed account of the events leading up to the Tiananmen Square protests, Me & Isaac Newton (1999), Married in America (2002), Incident at Oglala (1992), and more. Incident at Oglala examined the legal case involving Native American activist Leonard Peltier, who was convicted of murdering two FBI agents, whom many, including Rostock, maintain is innocent of his crimes. After nearly five decades behind bars, Peltier was released in February to serve the remainder of his sentence in home confinement. “Leonard and I remained friends, and I have to tell you I cried so hard when they finally freed him,” said Rostock. “We made that film to free him, and it didn't, and it should have freed him.”

Three decades later, Rostock remains committed to her goals of conveying the truth through her work to her audience and hopefully, serving justice through this truth.

The current administration’s policies have not made this challenge any easier, especially financially. In an executive order earlier this year, Trump ordered the defunding of NPR and PBS. As outlined in President Trump’s May 1, 2025, Executive Order, “The CPB Board shall cancel existing direct funding to the maximum extent allowed by law and shall decline to provide future funding.” Back in July, the House voted to approve the plan that would rescind $1.1 billion for the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB). President Trump has signed this bill into law.

Additionally, he has rescinded grants for the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) and the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) in his 2026 Discretionary Budget Request. NPR reported, “Hundreds of arts groups of various sizes across the U.S. received emails notifying them of the withdrawal and termination of their grants late on Friday [May 2].” Ongoing and upcoming projects are being forced to stop production or scramble for alternative solutions.

Many distribution platforms that would previously be interested in buying films are at a standstill. Rostock expressed her frustrations that “nobody’s buying” because in order to purchase, the FCC must approve it, which means that President Trump must approve it. “They’re not going to buy a film that’s anti-Trump,” she explained. 

UC Santa Barbara Film and Media Studies Professor Althea Wasow attested to the shifting political climate in film with similar concern. “You also are going to see a shift in how people frame projects,” said Wasow. “Things have shifted in such a specific way where certain words, certain communities, certain identities are deemed not in alignment with a kind of current regime.”

Despite the uncertainty surrounding the future of filmmaking, filmmakers alike are expressive in their efforts to persevere. Young filmmakers like third-year NYU Tisch Film student Ava Finch are choosing to remain optimistic during what they describe as an “inherently depressing” time. “I guess this is like a way to challenge young filmmakers to learn things without as much funding,” Finch expressed. “I think there’s going to be a rise in more independent guerrilla filmmaking and stuff like that.” 

Amidst struggles for funding and the pursuit of her ongoing projects, Rostock, too, has clung to optimism and her passion, which has always radiated through her work. She is actively working on her project, following the female political activists, as well as a film about the life and legacy of Diahann Carroll,  Between Starshine and Clay: The Hidden Diary of Diahann Carroll, which she is co-directing with Carroll’s daughter, Suzanne Kay. The film will feature several inspiring actresses, such as Erika Alexander and Viola Davis, who will read from the diary of the woman who opened up so many doors for Black women in film. The diary was discovered by Carroll’s daughter, who found many passages written to her. The project intends to honor Carroll, while allowing the subjects of the film to relate to her experiences through the lens of their own lives. 

The film industry has never been painless, and the road ahead presents a significant challenge. Like Rostock’s editing process, navigating the current film field will not follow a structured layout. Filmmakers must instead start at the beginning and weave. 

“The reality is bleak and very disturbing to work within that reality,” said Rostock. “All my priorities make it an impossibility, but somehow I’m going to do it.”