Within a mere few years, autodidact photographer, Misan Harriman went from being an amateur (in the original sense) to taking artistic shots of celebrities for high end fashion magazines and a nomination at the Academy Awards.  Alongside taking famous headshots and making Oscar-nominated short films, Harriman engages in his own form of art-ivism by capturing protests across the world.

Directed by fellow Nigerian-British filmmaker, Andy Mundy-Castle, Watermelon Pictures’ Shoot the People follows Harriman on the job, starting with one of numerous Palestine solidarity demos that have taken place in London since late 2023. Misan remarks with surprise and admiration at the determination of this particular mass movement. From the outset, Mundy-Castle’s film unapologetically reflects Misan’s own Leftist politics.

Harriman opens up his home and about his life; the upheaval of moving from Nigeria as a child and being thrust into all-white spaces that were contemptuous of difference. The insecurities engendered by what he describes as traumatic experiences endure.

Fast forward a few decades, and the murder of George Floyd elicits a need in Harriman to be on the ground with his camera, as the revived Black Lives Matter movement sweeps across the US and the world. The fervour sparked by Floyd’s unintentional martyrdom is the film’s leitmotif.

Yet, Harriman wonders whether he’s making a difference. He broadens the question outwards. What do street movements achieve in general? It’s not rhetorical. If protesters are still making the same basic demands they have been for generations – you know, things like recognising the basic humanity of Afrodescendants or Palestinians – what is it all for?

Harriman goes on a sincere quest, picking the brains of seasoned activists such as Martin Luther King III, for whom he has to thank for his first viral demo shot. King regrets that momentum for change is too often not sustained. His sentiments are echoed by Somali-born US Congresswoman, Ilhan Omar.

In South Africa he visits David Meyer-Golan, the ‘custodian’ of the legacy of the late Peter Magubane whose documentation of the Anti-Apartheid struggle was seminal to Harriman’s own artistic trajectory.

For David, to call Peter an activist is to ‘belittle’ what he did. ‘He was a freedom fighter’. Magubane bore the battle scars; solitary confinement, beatings and torture. Harriman tracks contemporary movements in the most unequal country in the world, such as that led by elderly activists demanding reparations for the Apartheid they fought against, and South Africa’s own campus protests in support of Palestine. South Africa incarnates the tension of hope for genuine change, and the kind of transformation that is so desperately needed but remains painfully incomplete.                          

So, do street movements really matter?

Harriman is working his way backwards from the question – en route via contemporary movements from Palestine and Climate to Black Feminists – to answer why it still does matter. His engagement is consequential enough for Harriman’s political detractors to unleash vitriol online and elsewhere.  His attempts to be even-handed about Israeli victims of Hamas’ attacks on 7 October 2023 mean nothing to those of bad faith. Harriman has been subjected to the usual smears, especially by right-wing rags, that conflate any support for the Palestinian cause and criticism of the Israeli state with anti-Jewish racism. Tens of thousands have come to Harriman’s defence against the character assassinations, including an open letter signed by 250 legal experts, activists and celebrities.

Misan scrutinises his own privilege. Not too far from the Dolby theatre and Oscars’ red carpet is the abject misery of Skid Row. The contrast haunts Harriman. He reasons in the end that his privilege inheres greater responsibility to his fellow humanity, rather than being a pretext for self-interested retreat.

For maximum efficacy, mass movements cannot simply be limited to the symbolism of street protests. Perhaps because of this reliance on the symbolic, it’s become fashionable in some circles – even on the Left – to dismiss their importance. However, Harriman’s film is a reminder that these mass displays of solidarity are powerful and effective in galvanising individuals beyond the usual activist circles. The film strikes the right tone; urgent without being over-earnest. We see a self-deprecating Harriman, for instance, switching with aplomb from clipped British tones to a loquacious Lagosian uncle when discussing his draft Oscar speech.

At this current juncture in human history, where the dark forces seem ever-more emboldened, Shoot the People is a timely exercise in reviewing gains, setbacks and losses. Without these constructive inventories, it’s easy to slip into cynicism. Unlike Harriman, this reviewer doesn’t think humanity is so easily divided into the righteous many and the rotten few. There’s an anti-hero/ine in each of us.  Yet the appeal for justice can be contagious. Even if not everybody heeds the call, the determination of a committed few can make all the difference.

Shoot the People – out now in the US. In cinemas across the UK & Ireland from Friday 10 July 2026.

For more information, visit the Shoot the People website

This review also appears on the I Was Just Thinking…blog