[Review] Shoot The People
Shoot The People follows Misan Harriman from viral Black Lives Matter photography to the deeper question of what it means to document struggle
What gives Shoot The People its emotional depth is that the documentary does not treat activism as something abstract or inevitable. Instead, it frames Misan Harriman’s political awakening as deeply personal, shaped as much by private uncertainty as public injustice.
The film moves between Harriman’s present-day work documenting protests and the fragmented personal history behind it: growing up between Nigeria and British boarding schools, navigating an emotionally distant relationship with his Cambridge-educated father, and struggling with a lingering sense of dislocation about who he was supposed to become.

Before photography, Harriman describes himself as someone drifting through the familiar architecture of aspirational London success.
Many of his peers moved into banking, Goldman Sachs, or corporate finance, while he entered recruitment because the barrier to entry felt low. Success quickly followed, but so did discomfort.
The documentary lingers on Harriman recalling the nights he spent while chasing status through expensive clubs, money, and the performance of success, while what he describes as “an inner voice, possibly my inner child,” quietly kept asking, “Beyond the accumulation of wealth, who are you?”
The film smartly connects this personal uncertainty to the collective emotional rupture of lockdown. Harriman describes the pandemic as a moment where people “couldn’t pretend we were okay anymore,” arguing that isolation forced buried trauma to surface.
Against that backdrop came the murder of George Floyd. Watching the footage, Harriman remembers thinking: “This is a modern-day lynching.”
The line lands with particular force because the documentary frames it not as rhetorical exaggeration, but as a moment of historical recognition. A realisation that the violence Black communities had long described was now unfolding publicly, globally, and viscerally.
The film gradually reveals that Harriman was not simply documenting protests; he was searching for a way to live with what he was witnessing. Photography becomes his means of processing grief, anger, and inherited historical memory in real time.
That tension is crystallised in the now-famous image of Darcy Bourne holding a handwritten sign asking: “Why is ending racism still a debate?”
The photograph, which would eventually become one of the defining images of the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests, emerged almost accidentally. Harriman later recalled simply asking Bourne to step slightly into the road for depth before someone’s raised fist entered the frame at precisely the right moment.
At the time, he assumed the image would circulate only among his modest Instagram following. Instead, the portrait became one of the most widely shared civil rights images in recent history — reposted by figures ranging from Gigi Hadid and Martin Luther King III to Sean “P Diddy” Combs. Ultimately leading to Harriman photographing British Vogue’s activism-themed September 2020 cover.
Yet, Shoot The People is careful not to frame virality as triumph. Rather, the image slowly hardens into something closer to collective memory: a photograph that condensed the exhaustion, anger, and unresolved moral tension of that political moment into a single frame.
What the documentary understands particularly well is that iconic images rarely announce themselves as history while they are being made. The Bourne photograph matters not because it went viral, but because of the emotional contradiction it captured.
Bourne’s expression carries exhaustion as much as anger, while the handwritten sign feels more like a question that humanity should already have answered than a mere slogan. Harriman himself later reflected on the “intensity” in her eyes and the discomfort viewers seemed to feel confronting the message by forcing audiences into moments of moral reflection they might otherwise avoid.

Beyond the immediacy of contemporary protest movements, Shoot The People turns toward deeper historical questions. One of the documentary’s most reflective threads follows Misan Harriman to South Africa in search of a broader understanding of global activism and the forces that shaped it.
There, the film explores the enduring legacy of apartheid through the work of legendary activist photographer Peter Magubane, whose words become the documentary’s guiding philosophy.
Harriman’s admiration for Magubane positions his photography within a longer lineage of resistance image-making, suggesting that photographs are never merely records of political moments, but acts of preservation against historical erasure.
Through Harriman’s conversations with figures such as Martin Luther King III, the documentary broadens this reflection beyond individual experience, drawing subtle parallels between the student-led activism of the civil rights movement and contemporary protest culture shaped through social media.
Rather than leaning into simplistic nostalgia, the film asks whether today’s generation, exhausted by algorithms, political noise and performative outrage, is still searching for the same thing Harriman himself was searching for: a sense of moral clarity in a world increasingly structured around distraction.
Reviewed following a press screening ahead of its official release, the film arrives not simply as a portrait of a photographer, but as a timely meditation on what it means to keep looking when the world has learned to scroll past suffering.
Shoot The People opens in US theatres on 19 June 2026, followed by its UK and Irish cinema release on 10 July 2026.
For more information, visit the Shoot the People official website.


