
Last week in these pages, we began looking at Death & Taxes, a new feature documentary being released in theaters this week. The film tells the story of director Justin Schein and his father Harvey, a record company executive obsessed with passing his wealth on to his children, and in particular, with the estate tax as a barrier to that. The documentary is both a poignant personal film about a charismatic—if combative—father and his relationship with his younger son, and a piercing look at wealth inequality in the United States today.
Death & Taxes tells this nuanced story through a brisk mélange of cinema verité, interview, archival footage, and stills and home movies going back fifty years, along with animation by the amazing Italian artist Robert Biadi, all set to the fantastic Mingus-influenced score of composer Bobby Johnston. Among the interviewees are Nobel Prize-winning economist Paul Krugman; former Secretary of Labor Robert Reich; conservative anti-tax guru Grover Norquist; progressive activist Chuck Collins; executive director of the Institute on Taxation on Economic Policy Amy Hanauer; Republican pollster and strategist Frank Luntz; Princeton sociologist and MacArthur “Genius” Fellow Matt Desmond; ProPublica journalist James Bandler; former CEO of the Roosevelt Institute Felicia Wong; Maven Collaborative economist Anne Price; former Reagan Budget Director David Stockman; Trump economic advisor Stephen Moore; and authors Alissa Quart and Anand Giridharadas.
I was honored to be invited into this project and spent eight years working on it as a producer and co-director. I signed on because it sounded fascinating, and above all, because it struck me as an important topic for the whole country and a clever way to dig into it. How else do you get people to watch a documentary about tax policy?
After having its world premiere at the DOCNYC film festival last fall, Death & Taxes is now about to roll out theatrically across the country. In New York, it will open at the IFC Center on Thursday July 17—featuring a Q&A with Justin—and run through the 24th. I’ll be doing the Q&As on the evenings of July 21 and 22, with other special guests appearing throughout the week. (See end of blog for other cities and dates.)
We are up against the Smurfs movie, which opens that same day, so let’s show those blue bastards who’s number one at the box office.
DECLARE THE PENNIES ON YOUR EYES
The estate tax is a levy placed on the money and assets you leave when you die. For that reason, its foes (led by the Republican Party) have branded it “the death tax,” and over the past several decades, mounted an aggressive campaign to demonize it. That campaign has worked, as those foes have succeeded in convincing the bulk of ordinary Americans to oppose the tax, even though it affects only a tiny percentage of our richest countrymen—about 0.1%, those with fortunes more than $30 million dollars. And those uber-wealthy Americans almost always have accountants and lawyers overseeing complex financial plans to help them avoid the estate tax altogether.
Broadly speaking, the ET is a form of inheritance tax. But what distinguishes it is that it’s paid by the estate of the deceased before any money is disbursed, not by the heirs—hence its vulnerability to being mischaracterized as a “tax on dying,” another popular conservative talking point. A straight tax on inheritance, which the heir would pay as if it were any other form of income, no different than wages or stock dividends or gambling winnings, would be an easy-to-understand system that would feel implicitly fair and not carry the stigma of that very effective slur. Even some of the conservative economists we interviewed for the film, like the Heritage Foundation’s Stephen Moore, conceded that they would be fine with that. (Or so they say now, in the abstract.)
But however it is configured, the estate tax serves a crucial purpose, both in taxing as-yet-unrealized capital gains that have thus far gone untouched by the IRS, and in acting as a brake on dynastic wealth and its toxic effect on our democracy. (For details on both, see part one of this essay.) There are some wealthy people who strongly support the estate tax, like the progressive activist group known as the Patriotic Millionaires, and tycoons like the late Bill Gates Sr. and Warren Buffett, who famously spoke about how unfair it was that he paid a lower effective income tax rate than his secretary. Ironically, because its foes have been so successful in attacking the estate tax, and the uber-rich so successful in avoiding paying it, the tax itself is almost moot. However, what the debate around it reveals remains profound.
It’s not news that the relentless, decades-long shifting of wealth upward to the top 1% has created an alarming, Gilded Era-degree of wealth inequality in the United States, and an attendant number of social, political, and economic ills. Chief among these is the vast power of the wealthy to influence our political system, allowing them to institute still more tax and economic policies shifting wealth even further into their coffers, creating a vicious circle that threatens American democracy itself.
That’s why Harvey Schein’s story is so pertinent to our present moment.
A FILM WITH A MIND OF ITS OWN
Justin’s father rose from poverty in Depression-era Brooklyn to become an enormously successful record company CEO beginning in the ‘50s and continuing into the ‘80s. Driven by the privation of his youth, he was also diligent in investing his money and building his wealth. To that end, he felt the estate tax was inherently un-American, interfering with his rightful ability to pass that accumulated wealth along to his children and grandchildren. As Harvey often told Justin and his older brother Mark, he wanted them to have the financial freedom to do whatever they wanted with their lives….and thanks to his hard work and diligence in saving and investing, he succeeded. Ironically, what Justin wanted to do with his life was to be a documentary filmmaker and question the broader implications of what his father had done.
“The film started in a different place with a different idea, as often documentaries do,” Justin told me for this blog.
“In the ‘’90s I was interested in making a film about my parents. I came home from grad school in California and saw that their relationship had really shifted as my dad had retired. They had always had their separate spheres of influence, but now he was home all the time. So I started documenting them, partly because I document things obsessively anyway. And part of their conflict ended up being around taxes, in that my dad had insisted that they move to Florida for more than half the year so that they could take advantage of the lower taxes there. My mom, being as generous as she is, put up with it for a long time, even though she was a dancer and wanted to be in New York. That was a real conflict, because for them to come to a compromise would threaten their lower tax status. And that brought out a lot of anger in my dad and resentment of her dancing.”
“Things came to a head in 2001 when my mom decided that she wasn’t going to go down to Florida for the winter. Dad refused to compromise: he thought she was just bluffing. But she wasn’t, and they separated. So I filmed him driving down to Florida alone, and her starting a new life in New York, and it was fascinating to see how they were dealing with that. But after about a year of filming it became clear that, while a good film needs conflict, this was too much conflict; my family was kind of in chaos, and my brother and I really wanted to help our parents reconcile. So I put the film aside for more than a decade.”
“My dad and I often fought about politics and about taxes. Then in 2017, about a year after he died, when the Republicans had control of the House and the Senate and the White House, there was a real possibility that the estate tax might be repealed altogether, and I wanted to explore that. So I went out asking people I knew—people who had wealth—what they thought about it. But nobody wanted to talk on camera, or even off camera. And I realized that this footage that I had with my parents about their marriage and my dad’s life also really intersected with the tax story, so I decided to try to use that as a foundation for this film. Which was very scary. But that’s why I found a partner in you, because I don’t think I would have had the courage to do it by myself. “
In the process of making the film, I had tremendous respect for Justin’s willingness to open up about this very personal and almost taboo topic. (Most Americans will tell you about their sex lives more readily than they’ll talk about money.) Those readers of this blog who know Justin personally know that he is as self-effacing, as modest, and as private as humanly possible: the last person you would ever expect to make a personal film, though somehow many of his films (Down on Polk Street, No Impact Man, Left on Purpose, and this one) somehow wind up there. As filmgoers, we are the better for it.
“I spent many sleepless nights staring at the ceiling wondering what I had gotten myself into,” Justin told me. “But I’ve spent so much time making films about other people, many of them in precarious situations, people who didn’t have resources and kind of relied on the filmmakers to get their story out. I felt like this was an opportunity to talk about this off-limits subject of privilege and wealth that often doesn’t get spoken about.”
“Even before 2017, it was clear that the ability for people to work hard and succeed in America was becoming harder and harder, and the question was, what was causing that? This huge wealth disparity is growing, and we’re cutting social programs, while this tiny group of people, including me, are becoming wealthier and wealthier. So how do we fix that? I think taxes are a big part of it, and the estate tax in particular, just because it’s symbolic, and because it is specifically about the passing on of wealth. The modern estate tax in America was created to deal with a very similar situation to what we have now: it was created to address the robber barons at the turn of the last century. And we’re back right in that same place.”
GREEKS BEARING GIFTS
Death & Taxes was a complicated film to make in so many ways: as an intimate family story, as a first person essay film, as a film about the Sahara-dry topic of taxes, and as a film that sought to weave that social justice narrative (what in the editing room we called “the term paper”) with the personal one. That’s why it took eight years to make, following the decades of filming—and thinking about it—that Justin had done.
In some ways, it was two films, each stylistically at odds with the other. Some people even advised us to break it in half, though we felt strongly that the interweaving was what made each half stronger, the whole-is-greater-than-the sum-of-its-parts wise. Even then we struggled with it for a long time, trying to strike the right balance, and to manage the pace and the crosscutting. Was it an issue-oriented Frontline-style documentary with a family story rolled in, or a family portrait that happened to discuss tax policy along the way? As I like to say (and Justin is surely tired of hearing), we knew that the film was a Trojan horse….but we were never sure which part was the horse and which part was the soldiers.
“It was really challenging,” Justin says. “Just thinking about how to make a film about taxes was daunting, and trying to make it entertaining and watchable was another challenge. That’s why I tried to think a little bit out of the box, to come up with unusual ways of telling the story. That’s where Roberto’s animation came in, and where we decided that we should think about unorthodox ways of using archival footage. Bobby’s music was another important aspect that adds another layer of complexity.”
Besides Justin, Roberto, Bobby, and myself, the Death & Taxes team included our brilliant editors Purcell Carson and Brian Redondo, and our intrepid producer Yael Melamede, with additional editing by David Mester and additional cinematography by Scott Sinkler and Richard Chisholm. We were also fortunate to have as a consultant Alan Berliner, one of the most accomplished and lauded documentarians in the history of the form, and a master of the personal film.
Justin again: “Interweaving the story of my dad’s life and the history of the estate tax in a way that was interesting and made sense was hard, and I think that’s where having great editors like Purcell and Brian and other collaborators that aren’t so personally attached to the material comes in, and trusted people who can look at cuts. We also leaned on the style of Alan Berliner, who was a great influence on me, because he tells intimate stories in really entertaining ways. So it was a collage of people and of talents. But I do think that my dad’s life really did parallel things happening in America at large, and we had a clear throughline between his life and his choices—starting with the Depression and the New Deal and the GI Bill and moving into trickle down and Reagan—that mirrored a lot of what went on with wealth and taxes in America. So in some ways, that made it a little easier, I think.”
For me as Justin’s collaborator, the process of making this film was so organic and pleasurable, particularly compared to some other films I’ve worked on over the past thirty years, which were more corporate or rigid, sometimes understandably so, because of time or budgetary constraints or commercial dictates. But Death & Taxes was made exactly the way Justin and I had been taught to make films in the Graduate Program in Documentary at Stanford, by mentors like Kris Samuelson, Jan Krawitz, Jon Else, the late Henry Breitrose, and others. It was a pure creative experience to have the time and the freedom to think and to try things and then to throw them out if they didn’t work and then try something else until the film found its final form. That is rare, in my experience, and I think it shows in the quality of the finished film.
“Well, it was so personal,” Justin told me, “so the idea of compromise or putting out into the world something that I felt unsure about, or that we didn’t give its due, was not feasible for me. We really did try to be patient, and a huge aspect of that is the fact that we had the money to do it. So Harvey had his hand in that as well.”
All of us who worked on the film appreciated that irony. But at the same time, people should understand that this wasn’t a film with an enormous budget, and certainly not an unlimited one. When Justin says that we had the money to do it, so much of that was in-kind on his part: as a director and producer and cinematographer, he worked pro-bono, which was the only thing that made it do-able. So yes, we had resources, but it was still a lean, efficient, economical production.
I think Harvey would have appreciated that.
BOUQUETS AND ONE BRICKBAT
Thus far, reaction to Death & Taxes has been vigorous and positive. Film Threat’s Kent Hill called it a “probing, intimate, and politically charged documentary” in which the two forces in the title “collide with tragicomic precision.”
Death & Taxes doesn’t just examine America’s estate tax; it begins an uncomfortable dialogue about wealth, legacy, ideology, and the price of chasing immortality through money. At the core of this film is the complicated relationship between Justin Schein and his father, Harvey Schein, a self-made millionaire whose obsession with the so-called “death tax” drives the narrative forward like a family thriller. What begins as a son’s attempt to understand his father’s worldview becomes a multi-generational reckoning with the American Dream itself.
Calling Justin “our reluctant guide through a minefield of inherited trauma, both emotional and financial,” Hill opines that the film shows “that this isn’t just about billionaires and spreadsheets, it’s about how society defines fairness, merit, and responsibility.” He also praises the film’s “willingness to show contradictions.”
As the story reaches its revelations, we, the viewer, are presented with the most haunting of questions. What are we really leaving behind? Death & Taxes is about more than inheritance. It’s about the cost of building walls around wealth, even when it means keeping out your own family. If anything can crush humanity to dust, it will be our frantic pursuit of the all-mighty dollar.
(You can see more rave reviews here, here, and here.)
But it hasn’t all been plaudits. The right wing, pro-Trump American Spectator recently ran a savage piece that barely mentioned the filmmaking, only its outrage at the economic arguments that Death & Taxes makes…..and without even bothering to try to refute them. Hmmm, very telling.
Per above, in the film Justin explicitly notes the irony that it was Harvey’s generosity that allowed him to have this career as a filmmaker, and even to make this very film. But that has not stopped right wing critics from attacking him over it, as if they were the ones to spot the irony. You just can’t please some people. Republicans especially.
To the issue of Justin’s willful vulnerability in making this film, thus far our fears that people will reject a film by a rich white guy who thinks his taxes are too low—a fear that is also openly articulated in the film—have proven unfounded, at least from the left. I am biased, of course, but my surmise is that viewers pick up on Justin’s good faith and his positive intentions. It’s only the right—the same people who are perfectly fine with wealthy people using their resources to advance conservative political causes—that wants to attack him on that front. Hmmm, very telling. Oh, wait—I said that before, didn’t I?
“I think that the film is not a polemic,” Justin says. “My first and most important criterion for getting it into the world is that I feel like I’m being fair and not trying to push an agenda even while expressing my own opinions. My intent is to raise questions and show the complexity. That’s why my dad was so perfect as the voice of the position that the estate tax and other taxes like it are excessive or ‘un-American,’ because you really see where he’s coming from in a way that gets behind the stereotypes. His own life experience brought him to that view, but it also came from a real place of love and desire to pass on the fruits of his hard work. He was thinking about his children and grandchildren. Now that I have kids myself, I’m beginning to think about inheritance in a different way. But it’s important to me that my kids get more than just financial security, that that they grow up in an environment where their friends and their neighbors and everyone in the country has genuine opportunity to succeed, and where there is economic justice.”
Again, I’m biased, but I think that the film does precisely what we set out to do with it, which is to be informative and thought-provoking and to stimulate debate, in hopes that the audience will come to its own conclusions. The movie has a point of view, and doesn’t purport to offer some sort of faux objectivity, but still presents all sides in a fair way. After all, we have Frank Luntz and Grover Norquist and Stephen Moore and David Stockman in it, and we let them make their arguments without using them as straw men, striving to let viewers make up their own minds. Isn’t that how democracy is supposed be?
The conversation around Death & Taxes would have been very different if November had gone the other way. (“I would have taken it,” as Justin says.) But the film will still be around if and when we can arrest our country’s current decline and the ongoing democratic emergency and get back on a rational path. In fact, in that happy event, the arguments that the documentary makes will be more valuable than ever.
Please go see it if you can.
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Photo: Justin and his father Harvey at the former’s graduation from Johns Hopkins, 1990. Courtesy of the Schein family.
Death & Taxes opens theatrically at the IFC Center in Lower Manhattan on Thursday July 17—featuring a Q&A with director Justin Schein—and will run through the 24th. Other special guests will appear throughout the week. Other cities and dates (with more to come) include:
Los Angeles: Laemmle Royal, July 25-31
Sebastapol: Rialto Sebastapol, August 4
Berkeley: Rialto Elmwood, August 5
San Francisco: Vogue Theater, August 7

