On a crisp early fall morning in upstate New York, acclaimed filmmaker Ken Burns returned to a historic battlefield.
He had just traveled two hours from his New Hampshire home to a rolling meadow near Saratoga Springs. The landscape here remains largely unchanged since 1777, when the Continental Army achieved its first major victory against the British. Standing on the porch of an 18th-century farmhouse, Burns began his familiar address to a small assembly of journalists and local officials.
“The American Revolution,” he stated, “is weighed down by layers of sentimentality and idealized notions.” His upcoming six-part, 12-hour documentary, set to premiere on PBS on November 16, aims to strip away these embellishments, hoping to foster understanding in our currently divided society.
“We often describe ourselves as ‘so divided,’ as if we’re constantly facing unprecedented challenges,” he reflected. “Yet, the Revolution itself was a deeply fractured period, as was the Civil War. Division, in fact, has been a consistent theme throughout American history.”
Perhaps, he suggested, compelling narratives can “help us move beyond our current rigid perspectives.”
These sentiments were classic Burns – a blend of upbeat American optimism that delights his fans and often draws skepticism. However, “The American Revolution,” co-directed by Burns with Sarah Botstein and Dave Schmidt, arrives at a time when merely trying to present a unifying national story feels profoundly bold.
Filmmaker Ken Burns stands on a battlefield outside Saratoga Springs, New York, the site of the American Revolution’s first significant patriot victory.
Since his return to office, President Trump has reignited calls for a “patriotic” historical narrative, criticizing those he believes disparage the past. He has actively sought to remove what he terms “divisive race-based ideology” from the Smithsonian and mandated the elimination of “disparaging American” content from National Park sites. In a significant move, his Republican allies in Congress completely cut federal funding for PBS in July, Burns’s long-standing broadcasting home.
“The American Revolution,” with its candid exploration of slavery and the dispossession of Native American lands, directly challenges the Trump administration’s preferred historical viewpoint. Despite this, Burns has maintained a relentlessly hopeful, nonpartisan, and conciliatory stance throughout his six-month, 32-city promotional tour across the diverse political landscape of America.
At every event, from packed PBS affiliate gatherings to popular podcasts like Joe Rogan and Theo Von, he has repeatedly emphasized “putting the ‘us’ back in ‘U.S.’” and championed the Revolution as “the most pivotal event in human history since the birth of Christ.”
At each stop, Burns consistently highlighted the fragility of democracy and passionately defended PBS, a network where his name is as recognizable as Big Bird’s. Notably, he has seldom mentioned “Donald Trump” directly.
In a New York City interview last month, Burns acknowledged the politically charged atmosphere. Yet, he insisted his role with the film remains unchanged: to portray the past accurately and reach as broad an American audience as possible.
“I genuinely hope this film can resonate with everyone concerned about our nation’s trajectory,” he expressed. “This incredibly inspiring story of our founding, despite its dark and intricate layers, possesses – I believe, I hope – the power to foster unity in today’s conversations.”
Is Liberty Truly for Everyone?
Burns began development on the film in December 2015, while completing his documentary on the Vietnam War. At that time, Barack Obama was nearing the end of his presidency, and the musical “Hamilton” was at its peak, celebrating an optimistic and inclusive vision of the nation’s origins.
The filmmakers’ primary challenge wasn’t political or academic interpretation, but a more fundamental one: how to craft a compelling documentary without photographs, newsreels, or living witnesses, relying on historical records that many Americans find dry and unengaging.
Costing over $30 million, “The American Revolution” commenced with the creation of an extensive archive. As historian Geoffrey C. Ward (writer of 20 Burns documentaries) delved into Revolutionary scholarship, researchers amassed more than 18,000 maps, engravings, paintings, and documents from nearly 350 galleries, museums, and libraries.
Buddy Squires, Ken Burns’s longtime cinematographer, captures a scene at Monmouth Battlefield State Park in New Jersey. The production team filmed hundreds of re-enactors and historical interpreters across the thirteen colonies, enduring all weather conditions.
The film skillfully employs the signature “Ken Burns effect,” featuring sweeping camera movements across static historical images. It also incorporates modern techniques, such as CGI maps for certain battle sequences. However, the most significant innovation was the extensive use of re-enactors.
Buddy Squires’s cinematography team meticulously filmed hundreds of re-enactors and costumed interpreters across the thirteen colonies, battling diverse weather. Using drones for aerial shots and ground-level cameras, they depicted soldiers, sailors, as well as washerwomen, blacksmiths, and farmers, bringing these historical figures to life.
“We wanted to find a way to make people feel real and vibrant, especially those who left limited historical records,” Botstein explained.
While the documentary’s core narrative follows the military campaigns, featuring 36 often tense and dramatic battle sequences (from iconic events like Bunker Hill and Yorktown to lesser-known clashes), its emotional depth comes from the firsthand accounts of almost 150 historical figures representing diverse societal strata, voiced by 61 different actors.
We hear extensively from the Founding Fathers, but also from women, Native Americans, free and enslaved Africans, impoverished Irish immigrants, and German mercenaries. All these voices grapple with the meaning of freedom, often arriving at vastly different conclusions.
Re-enactors portray soldiers from the 1st Rhode Island Regiment, an integrated unit composed of African American, Native American, and white soldiers who fought from 1778 until the war’s conclusion in 1783.
This inclusive approach aligns closely with contemporary historical scholarship, which frames the Revolution as a profoundly violent civil war that tore apart families and communities, often leaving many Native Americans and African Americans in a worse, less free state. Furthermore, the film avoids vilifying Loyalists, who sometimes faced brutal reprisals.
“They weren’t inherently bad people,” Burns noted. “They were simply what we would recognize as conservatives today.”
The documentary highlights that while approximately 5,000 Black individuals, both free and enslaved, fought for the Patriot cause, an estimated 15,000 sided with the British, who had offered them freedom—a promise largely unfulfilled.
For many viewers, the documentary’s most illuminating aspect may be the prominent role of Native Americans. They are not depicted as mere victims or passive observers but as members of powerful nations navigating complex decisions to protect their own sovereignty.
The film’s prologue, narrated by Peter Coyote, posits that the Revolution was fundamentally ignited by conflicts over “Indian land, taxation, and representation.” This acknowledges that the colonists’ desire for unrestricted access to Native territories was a primary driver for the break from Britain, which had prohibited any settlement west of the Appalachians.
This central theme resonates throughout the documentary. A particularly stark segment details the Sullivan campaign of 1779 in upstate New York, where Washington commanded the complete destruction of Seneca and Cayuga villages, crops, and orchards, as these nations had allied with the British. “You will not by any means listen to any overture for peace, before the total ruin of their settlements is effected,” Washington famously declared.
However, the film refrains from dismantling historical heroes. In one notable sequence, two historians – professionals not typically prone to a “great man” view of history – each emphasize Washington’s pivotal role as the indispensable leader who unified the 13 colonies through eight years of grueling war.
“He was the unifying force that held people together,” stated historian Annette Gordon-Reed, adding, “Without him, we would not have had a country.”
“Inspiration With Content”
Burns has often had a complex relationship with academic scholars. Some have criticized his films as overly saccharine and sentimental, often downplaying unresolved conflicts in favor of appeals to unity. His “Civil War” series, in particular, has faced ongoing critiques for what some perceive as a romanticized portrayal of the conflict as a “family feud” primarily stemming from a failure to compromise.
For “The American Revolution,” the filmmakers collaborated with two dozen historical consultants, who provided extensive feedback on multiple drafts and edits. This group included celebrated authors like Joseph Ellis and Stacy Schiff, alongside leading academic scholars from various generations and viewpoints, ranging from Bernard Bailyn to Ned Blackhawk.
Their diverse perspectives are presented not as a debate, but as a collective voice—a powerful reminder that the Revolution held, and continues to hold, different meanings for different people.
Sarah Botstein, who co-directed the film with Burns and David Schmidt, sets up a scene about the Stamp Act at a historic house in New York City. This was one of almost 170 locations where the crew filmed.
It remains uncertain how Burns’s interpretation will be received by audiences, particularly by ideologues poised to criticize. Last January, Burns and Botstein met with three historians at the American Historical Association’s annual meeting. When the potential for political backlash was raised, a moment of silence was followed by nervous laughter.
“We truly need your support in promoting this film and ensuring that it isn’t selectively presented in local communities to highlight only sensational aspects,” Burns appealed.
That apprehension persists. Yet, some scholars involved in the project believe there’s a widespread desire, across the political spectrum, for dialogue that transcends current partisan divides.
Kathleen DuVal, a University of North Carolina historian, describes this desire as “inspiration grounded in factual content.”
“People long to be reminded of why a republic is vital and what sacrifices were made to achieve it,” she affirmed.
Jane Kamensky, a former Harvard professor who is now the president and CEO of Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, noted that the film offers a “synthesis of intellect and emotion,” allowing viewers to draw their own conclusions.
“The Revolution was the foundational moment for the question of what it means to be a unified people,” Kamensky elaborated. “That question existed in 1776, and it endures today. But throughout our work with the team, I never felt they were forcing contemporary connections.”
A Republic, If We Can Keep It
Nevertheless, the year 2025 has relentlessly brought these historical parallels to the forefront.
In March, following an appearance at West Point, where Burns was met with an enthusiastic reception from cadets, news emerged weeks later that a similar event at the Naval Academy would be postponed. The concern was that Burns’s previous criticisms of President Trump during the 2024 campaign might provoke outrage from conservative circles.
On July 4, after touring Georgia, the Carolinas, and Texas, Burns visited Monticello, Virginia, to speak at the annual naturalization ceremony. In a temporary waiting area in Jefferson’s front hall, someone mentioned President Trump’s plans, announced the previous night, for a UFC mixed-martial arts fight on the White House lawn next summer, as part of the 250th anniversary celebration of the Declaration of Independence.
Burns responded with a decidedly un-Jeffersonian expletive. However, on Jefferson’s lawn, amidst a crowd predominantly dressed in red, white, and blue, with some sporting “I ❤️ PBS” T-shirts, he maintained a dignified and elevated tone.
Regardless of its complex beginnings, he quoted from the film’s prologue, the Revolution ultimately became about “humanity’s noblest aspirations.”
“That is the essence of this special day, then and now, through every moment in between, and where we will be next July — and beyond,” he declared.
Still, the less encouraging historical parallels have continued to accumulate. In August, after the president deployed the National Guard in Washington, the documentary’s first episode premiered at the Telluride Film Festival. Burns recounted that when the film featured a colonist protesting the British troop deployment in an increasingly rebellious Boston, the audience “erupted.”
On his promotional circuit, Burns has been careful to avoid partisan commentary. Yet, during the Saratoga visit, while awaiting events, author Rick Atkinson, a prominent voice in the film, offered a more direct observation.
“What was the greatest fear of the founders? What truly terrified them?” He paused, then answered, “It wasn’t the British. They most feared the ascent to power of an autocrat who did not uphold the values the founders sought to embody.”
Ken Burns expressed his hope that “the film has an ability to speak to the people who are concerned about the direction of the country, whoever that might be.”
So far, Burns’s balanced approach, emphasizing both inspiration and historical complexity, has resonated positively with audiences, even those beyond the typical PBS viewership.
Earlier this month, on Theo Von’s podcast, Burns and Von engaged in lighthearted banter about the nation’s astrological sign (Cancer) and whether it embodies the sign’s positive traits (emotional, imaginative, loyal) or its negative ones (moodiness, insecurity, pessimism).
When Von suggested the Declaration of Independence was “kind of a love letter to the future,” Burns’s eyes widened, and he visibly bounced on his seat.
“Oh my God, that’s the best expression I’ve ever heard!” he exclaimed, before seamlessly transitioning to a favorite story about Thomas Paine.
A similar scenario unfolded in June when Burns visited Austin, Texas, to record “The Joe Rogan Experience.” During nearly three hours of conversation, he and Rogan discussed the importance of heroes and the need for an honest assessment of their flaws. For much of this exchange, as Burns shared his well-known insights, Rogan’s responses rarely extended beyond a simple “Wow.”
This reaction is precisely what Burns cherishes – it’s evidence that an audience for open-minded, fact-based history still exists.
“That’s a profoundly impactful experience,” he concluded, “when people set aside their own argumentative or ideological viewpoints and simply react with ‘Wow, I had no idea.’”