The opening lines betray little emotion, yet they startle: “I’m here because Donald Trump raped me. He lied and shattered my reputation and I am here to try and get my life back.”
Those words, recited by three Hollywood actresses, are drawn from the testimony in E. Jean Carroll’s civil trials against the former president, who was ordered to pay $88.3 million in damages for a long ago encounter in a Bergdorf Goodman dressing room. They constitute the narrative power of Robert Greenwald’s short documentary targeting voters in battleground states ahead of the November election.
The actresses — Ellen Burstyn, Kathryn Hahn and Lexi Underwood — shape a compelling tale from Carroll’s version of events in language that resonates in its understatement. They appear one by one, solitary figures against a dark screen, their voices blending into a recounting of that moment in the mid-1990s when “a funny New York scene” in a department store escalated into violence that decades later would erupt into Trump’s presidency.
“There was no audio from the trials,” said Greenwald, founder of Brave New Films, whose documentaries, short videos, tweets and other media posts have reached 68 million views this year. “I spent weeks going over the full written transcripts. I was moved and motivated and passion-driven to get this to an audience. If we can move 3,000 to 5,000 voters in key states that would be humongous.”
The 17-minute “E. Jean Carroll v. Donald J. Trump” was released across social media this month. Greenwald said the intent is to sway irregular voters — those who don’t cast ballots consistently — with a “very human, very personal” story that will lead them to the polls. The film and its spin-off videos have had 6.2 million views on TikTok, Facebook, YouTube, Instagram and other platforms in a low-budget, guerrilla-style campaign Greenwald has honed for nearly two decades.
Carroll’s revelations marked a riveting moment in a presidency accustomed to scandal. The case arose after the #MeToo movement when women in entertainment, politics and other fields accused men, including producer Harvey Weinstein, of sexual misconduct. A writer and advice columnist, Carroll published a story in New York magazine in 2019 accusing Trump of rape.
In 2023, a civil jury awarded her $5 million after rejecting the rape allegation but finding Trump liable for sexual abuse and defamation. He denied the charges and attacked Carroll in interviews, depositions and on social media, calling her a “nut job” and “not my type.” She sued him a second time for defamation and won in January with damages set at $83.3 million.
Trump appealed the verdicts, posting immediately after the trial: “Our Legal System is out of control, and being used as a Political Weapon.”
As portrayed by the actresses, Carroll, 80, was naive, shattered, trusting, determined, hurt and at times humorous when she was on the stand. She said Trump approached and asked her to help him pick out a gift in the lingerie department. She testified that she was “delighted,” describing him as pleasant and funny. But things quickly changed. The dressing room door was opened and then closed. Speaking as Carroll, Underwood, who appeared in the series “Little Fires Everywhere,” said: “That door has plagued me for years, because I walked into it.”
She said Trump shoved her against a wall and forced himself closer. Reciting Carroll’s words, Hahn, who has starred in the miniseries “Mrs. Fletcher” and “Tiny Beautiful Things,” said: “He leaned down and pulled down my tights. His fingers went into my vagina, which was extremely painful. ... It was a horrible feeling. ... Then he inserted his penis. I could certainly feel that pain.”
Carroll said she was “very stupid” and the encounter “left me unable to ever have a romantic life again.” She testified that “flirting ended up as the worst decision of my life” and that she didn’t go to the police because she was ashamed. In the voice of Burstyn, who is 91 and an Academy Award winner for “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore,” there are echoes of defiance, regret and the wry maturity of a survivor. “He is vile,” she said of Trump, adding that his public ridiculing of her made her feel, “I’m too ugly to attack. Too ugly to rape. ... It hit me, and it laid me low.”
One of Carroll’s attorneys is played by Regina Taylor, who appeared in the TV series “I’ll Fly Away.” Her other lawyer in the film is an unidentified male voice, who asked Carroll, in a preemptive attempt to counter harsh questioning from Trump’s legal team, if she enjoys the attention from the case. She responds: “Getting attention for being raped is not,” she paused, “it’s hard. Getting attention for making a great three bean salad, that would be good.”
A number of actors whom Greenwald approached to play Carroll, including those known for their activism, turned him down. Some worried about physical attacks by Trump supporters; others, he surmised, thought the film too risky for their careers in a politically divisive age. “The level of fear among actresses was great,” said Greenwald, who would not name those who turned him down. “I don’t shock easily, so that was a surprise.”
A former feature film and TV director, Greenwald, who made “The Burning Bed,” a seminal 1984 television movie about a battered wife played by Farrah Fawcett, started the nonprofit Brave New Films in 2005. The company’s documentaries about politics and social justice include long films and short videos on voter suppression, Fox News’ conservative bias, racism, reproductive rights, gun violence, the Afghanistan and Iraq wars and the prison system. Greenwald is an itinerant, old-school muckraker, working with small crews, sometimes only himself, to tell stories of oppression and threats to democracy from those who often are not heard.
He has been demonized by his enemies, mostly those on the right. Former Fox News host Bill O’Reilly called Greenwald “absurdly dishonest” and a “fanatical leftist who is obsessed with Fox News.” Greenwald’s documentary on the political power of conservative billionaire brothers Charles and David Koch drew a rebuke from their lawyer, who accused him of “harassing behavior” and “the derivative rehashing of distortions and fabrications made by far-left bloggers.”
The “Carroll v. Trump” film is his latest attempt to micro-target certain audiences through social media to get a message across in a highly interactive digital age. With a production budget of about $20,000, Greenwald, who is attuned to algorithms, released the film in its entirety but also edited parts to fit the time, content and style characteristics of various platforms. “TikTok is a different audience than Facebook,” he said, “so that becomes a real challenge. It’s definitely not one size fits all. ... It’s breaking out of conventional thinking.”
Like many documentary filmmakers, Greenwald has faced what he called “a radical cutback in funding” at a time when some progressive donors and foundations are burned out on politics while seeing little return for their investments. He gave up his Culver City office — “we’re working 100 percent virtual” — and reduced his staff from 22 to five. He hired less expensive freelancers to work on the “Carroll v. Trump” film, including a graphic designer from Kosovo, an editor from Utah and a researcher from Bolivia.
“It’s wild,” he said. “You can get talented people, but the water cooler effect is gone.”
“Carroll v. Trump” fit Greenwald’s aesthetic and his pocketbook. It is minimalist, he said, noting that one of his biggest influences is Claude Lanzmann, who directed “Shoah,” a nine-hour documentary on recollections of the Holocaust. Greenwald wanted his film to evoke a similar feel. Burstyn, Hahn and Underwood are alone in each shot. There’s little music and almost no graphics, as if one were wandering down a dark hall encountering illuminated faces telling a cruel story while pointing the way.
The intent, he said, was not to manipulate the viewer but to strip everything away “to get into her [Carroll’s] soul.”
He hopes the film will lead people to vote. “We’re constantly asking ourselves what success is,” said Greenwald, who is reading “The Body Keeps the Score,” a book about healing trauma. “The numbers we’re reaching show we are being successful.” He added that using social media “is a mixed bag,” like relying “on a trusted messenger” to route information to audiences that are connected to one another. “It’s essentially,” he said, “word of mouth.”
Get the L.A. Times Politics newsletter
Deeply reported insights into legislation, politics and policy from Sacramento, Washington and beyond. In your inbox three times per week.
You may occasionally receive promotional content from the Los Angeles Times.
