Remember those nights, before most of us cut our cables, spent flipping through endless channels without ever settling on one show or movie? Appropriately enough, that is the sensation I had watching David Shadrack Smith’s kinetic feature debut Public Access which world premiered at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival in the U.S. Documentary Competition. This kaleidoscopic approach is both exhilarating as well as a little frustrating at times. Just as we get immersed into the world of a specific show we are moved onto the next. Nevertheless, there is plenty to relish in this involving and entertaining documentary and it is essential viewing for anyone interested in the history of television or pop culture more generally.
The filmmaker has assembled an impressive roster of narrators, including key staff members at Manhattan Cable who were charged with carrying out the obligation of parent company, Time Warner (as it would become known), to provide public access channels in New York in return for the regional franchise. They all make for insightful and engaging contributors, and although there is some occasional overlap in their reflections, they each have their own takes on being part of this groundbreaking media experiment, where tech and free speech intersected just as the 1970s counterculture movement was emerging.
Pat Ivers, a production co-ordinator at Manhattan Cable, recalls being among this “bunch of kids with a TV channel” and the thrill she felt at being “part of this political act to empower people” as New York’s public access channels launched on July 1st, 1971, becoming the first in the the nation. “The dream was that people who would never be recognized by mainstream anything could make television and reach an audience,” she reflects. While another former staffer, Steven Lawrence, boldly states, “Public access was something revolutionary”.
Smith absorbingly chronicles how public access put the city’s Downtown arts scene on screen, with Ivers recalling how she herself recorded many acts performing at the iconic East Village venue CBGB’s, like Patti Smith, Talking Heads and The Cramps, then supplied her footage for broadcast. We also hear from photographer Bob Gruen who passed on many of the musical performances he shot on his camcorder to be aired on public access, as well as a controversially explicit video of his wife giving birth.
With some well-selected archive footage of 70s New York, a peppy electro score by adore, effective use of split screen, and deft editing by Geoff Gruetzmacher, the spirited sequences that contextualize the dawn of public access really fizz, capturing the pulse of excitement and possibility of a new medium. Archive news footage and behind-the-scenes videos and photographs illustrate the words of those who were there, and there is a stylish and distinctive recurring visual that places archive footage on vintage television sets placed on various locations around the city.
The real star of the film though is the treasure trove of excerpts from the public access shows themselves. Given the thousands of hours of recordings that Smith and his archival team must have had to sift through, curating this eclectic selection is an impressive feat in itself. One early gem we see clips from is Anton Perich Presents, a sitcom-inspired, boundary-pushing comedy sketch show improvised by the actors, which put the Max’s Kansas City scene on the small screen. Debuting in 1973, the show featured appearances from the likes of Warhol Superstars like Candy Darling and Taylor Mead. It was among the shows that resulted in “tension” between management and those working on the channels over what was deemed “transgressive”, as Steve Lawrence highlights.
Glenn O’Brien’s TV Party brought a laid back vibe to the chat show format, with regular guests like Klaus Nomi and Blondie’s Chris Stein and Debbie Harry, who describes it as “a cluster fuck of ideas”. “It could be silly, it could be intellectual, it could be a little bit nasty, it could be artistic,” adds Harry, before summing up that for her “personally going on TV Party meant freedom.” It’s surprising to learn that some of the show’s on-screen text was created by Jean-Michel Basquiat directly from the control room using the character generator to write stream of consciousness poetic phrases that chimed with his artwork.
Things evolved when tech allowed viewers of live shows to call in and interact with a varied roster of hosts including doctors, physics, comedians, and pot-smokers. This led to more public involvement as well as some expletive-rich, sometimes intentionally offensive calls that we get a taste of. One show to make use of interaction with viewers was The Grube Tube, hosted by Steve Gruberg giving shock jock energy, whose phone-in show provided “an outlet for New York’s crazies”, according to his widow Adrienne. Steve was among the first public access hosts to get mainstream media attention and become a cult star.
One aspect of the film that feels particularly timely, given today’s debate over social media and free speech, is the way that public access tested the boundaries of the First Amendment, with some challenges going all the way to the Supreme Court. A VP at Time Warner responsible for overseeing New York’s public access channels, Charlotte Schiff-Jones, describes herself as a “First Amendment lunatic”. The vision for public access, as she puts it, was that “people have the right to create whatever they want to create…with no editorial input allowed”. It was a situation that proved “uncomfortable” for the cable company bosses who were used to being in absolute control.
As ever, when new tech or mediums emerge, sex finds a way to harness and drive its success. When it came to public access, one of the major shows to feature adult images and themes was Al Goldstein’s Midnight Blue which put the Times Square of the 70s into people’s homes. Goldstein monetized his show with advertising—allowed on public access Channel J—in return for a modest fee to secure a timeslot. Midnight Blue resulted in a raft of guidelines around what Manhattan Cable deemed appropriate, igniting debates over censorship and what constituted as “obscenity”. New rules dictated restrictions such as any close-up shots on genitals being no longer than six seconds. The show itself would draw attention to segments that had been cut, broadcasting an on-screen text advisory flagging that a section had been censored by Manhattan Cable. Midnight Blue co-creator Alex Bennett recalls that it was his idea to see how far he could push things by arranging and broadcasting a “spermathon” world record attempt with “ambitious girl-next-door Tara Alexander” having sex with 83 men in one night. For Manhattan Cable, it was a step too far.
When it came to LGBTQ+ programming, one precious jewel was the weekly magazine show The Emerald City, a post-Stonewall “gay-oriented television show” that put the city’s vibrant scene, including its bars, baths and drag queens, on screen. We hear its presenter Frank O’Dowd quip, ” New York is not lacking in its share of gay people”, but those real New Yorkers were nowhere to be seen on TV. In the documentary’s brief coverage of The Emerald City, we see an appearance from playwright, author and activist Larry Kramer being interviewed by a regular contributor to the show, Celluloid Closet author, film historian and GLAAD co-founder Vito Russo. If your interest is piqued, you can find many episodes of the show on YouTube.
Men and Films took a more X-rated approach to putting the gay experience on screen, with its out and proud leather daddy creator and host Lou Maletta promising “a show like no other in America”. Village Voice writer and pop culture commentator Michael Musto describes Maletta as “fearless” and recalls the novelty of seeing “a middle-aged man in a harness” on TV. Maletta’s answer to Mahattan Cable censorship was to playfully place digitized circles over blowjobs and penetration that would “accidentally” move around to reveal what was ordered to be concealed, somehow making the sex scene even more tantalizing to watch.
One of the most compelling sequences in the film highlights how public access proved to be an essential public service resource in helping to disseminate messages about safe sex during the onset of what was then known as “the gay plague”, during the early years of the HIV/AIDS crisis in New York City. We see Michael Callen and Richard Berkowitz, co-authors of the How to Have Sex in an Epidemic pamphlet, appear on Men and Films to speak directly to viewers. It was the start of a regular segment for Berkowitz, who says that Lou’s was “the perfect audience to wake up gay men” about what was happening. Seeing the crucial role his show had for the community, Maletta launched expanded gay programming under the Gay Cable Network umbrella as a counter narrative to the mainstream stigmatization of gay men and gay sex as a result of disinformation, ignorance and bigotry surrounding HIV/AIDS.
Smith goes on to highlight Paper Tiger Television’s “critical feminist approach to the American Dream” as its creator, media activist Deedee Halleck puts it, as well as the reggae focused Rockers TV hosted by Earl “Roots Man” Chin that featured Bob Marley and The Rolling Stones as guests.
By the 90s, this vibrant alternative to mass media was starting to visibly influence mainstream shows, as illustrated by Jake Fogelnest’s experience. In 1994, the teen began “goofing around” on Squirt TV, a show that he taped in his own bedroom talking directly to camera. Before long, he had a major late night following, appeared as a guest on network TV chat shows, and eventually saw his show bought by MTV in 1996, with him interviewing major Hollywood and music stars in a studio set of his bedroom. His is unquestionably a fascinating personal story, but the time devoted to it feels imbalanced compared with other public access notables, such as the notorious The Robin Byrd Show which is only touched upon.
“We made fun of it, but we couldn’t get enough of it”, Musto muses about The Robin Byrd Show. He would go from avid “Byrd-watcher”, to co-hosting the show with Byrd. Along with Al Goldstein, Byrd would become a free speech advocate in the fight over whether adult material should only be available on an “opt-in” basis as Congress was debating, a case that would reach the Supreme Court.
Coinciding with the Disneyfication of Times Square and the hyper-gentrification of New York generally under Giuliani, public access’ relevance diminished with the arrival of the Internet, as the screech, chirp, and whistle sounds of a dial-up modem denotes. Wisely, Smith doesn’t devote too much time to making comparisons between public access and today’s social media landscape, but mostly leaves it up to us to make those clear connections.
While the film only skims the surface of some of the individual shows it covers, ultimately it is a thrill to engage with such a cornucopia of TV gems and Smith tells the overall story of public access clearly and compellingly. Public Access isn’t just a time capsule, it’s a lively celebration of what made these channels so special, capturing all the irreverence, edginess, creativity, and, yes, outright stupidity.
By James Kleinmann
David Shadrack Smith’s Public Access world premiered at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival and screens again in-person January 29th and 31st. Also available via the festival’s online platform January 29th – February 1st, 2026.