The Encampments, directed by Michael T. Workman and Kei Pritsker, is a lean, clear-eyed documentary that offers an essential account of the student protests that began at Columbia University in spring 2024 and rapidly spread across the United States. Grounded in the testimony of the young people who led the Gaza Solidarity Encampment, the film restores the voices of those who were often vilified or ignored in the mainstream coverage of the movement.

Rather than starting with protest chants or speeches, the filmmakers set the tone with a rapid montage of news anchors and commentators denouncing the student activists as “radical,” “dangerous” and “disgusting.” These clips are intercut with footage from Gaza, framing the stakes of the protest while highlighting the disconnect between the media’s portrayal of the students and the reality on the ground.

The effect is jarring and deliberate. Almost immediately, this framing is subverted as we meet the central participants of the film.

Three of the leading organisers - Sueda Polat, Mahmoud Khalil and Grant Miner - introduce themselves in calm, considered interviews. Each brings a different background and perspective to the movement, and they all speak with striking clarity and conviction. Khalil, a Palestinian graduate student, served as a lead negotiator with Columbia’s administration. Miner, a Jewish student and campus labor leader, connects the protest to broader histories of union organising. Polat, a human rights graduate student, provides a sharp overview of Columbia’s financial ties and the structures of its board of trustees. She notes that the university has previously divested from private prisons, South African apartheid and, more recently, Russian companies following the invasion of Ukraine. In doing so, the students argue, divestment is not unprecedented - but a political choice the university has made before, and could make again.

The film tracks how, when repeated calls for divestment went unanswered, the students built a peaceful encampment on the campus lawns. What began at Columbia soon inspired parallel actions across universities nationwide, from Georgia to California. The filmmakers were there from the beginning, with cameras inside the tents, at teach-ins, and among the crowds. Pritsker, who also served as cinematographer, stays close to the students throughout - capturing not just protests, but quieter, everyday moments that sustained the movement: people cooking, dancing, sharing poems, debating strategy and holding each other through the stress of increasing police and administrative pressure.

While the protest’s scale and visibility grew quickly, The Encampments remains focused on the human details that made it possible. The editing is fast when it needs to be, but never chaotic. As the movement spreads, co-editor Mahdokht Mahmoudabadi ensures the story remains coherent and emotionally grounded, guiding viewers through events with just enough historical and political context to situate the action without overwhelming it.

The soundtrack is minimal and used only when necessary, allowing the ambient sounds of protest - chanting, megaphones, music - to stand on their own. The restraint here is part of the film’s strength. It trusts its audience and avoids heavy-handed emotional cues, letting the words and expressions of the students carry the story.

What makes The Encampments feel especially urgent is how much of it is still unfolding. In March 2025, Mahmoud Khalil was detained in New York by ICE agents without a warrant. In April, an immigration judge in a remote Louisiana court ruled that Khalil - a permanent U.S. resident with no criminal charges - is eligible for deportation. The ruling has sparked outrage and concern from civil rights advocates. The man we see in the film is measured, articulate and deeply committed to non-violent resistance. That he now faces the loss of his residency adds a chilling real-world consequence to what the film has already shown: institutions will protect their image and investments, even at the expense of the students they claim to serve.

And yet, the film is not a despairing one. In its final minutes, it turns to Gazan journalist Bisan Owda, who reflects on the power of international solidarity and the slow, painful process of building global awareness. Her testimony, placed near the film’s end, invites viewers to understand the stakes beyond campus - and reminds us that to speak out is also to stand with.

The Encampments also draws a quiet but pointed historical parallel. In 1968, Columbia students occupied buildings in protest against the Vietnam War and institutional racism. The university responded with mass arrests and violence. Fifty years later, those protests are commemorated in Columbia exhibitions and archives. This film asks what it means to valorize past resistance while punishing present-day dissent.

Running just 80 minutes, The Encampments does not overstay its welcome. Its power lies in its focus - on the people who were there, on what they did, and on why it mattered. It offers an essential counter-narrative to the soundbites and smear campaigns, documenting a moment of resistance with care and clarity.

This is protest filmmaking at its most grounded and generous - a timely, human portrait of what it means to take a stand.

• Out now. Watch the trailer below.