How I Met Robert Reich

And ended up making a movie

It’s been a whirlwind few weeks for my film The Last Class about Robert Reich’s final semester of teaching at UC Berkeley. As the movie plays in theaters across the country with sold-out shows and extended runs, I’ve gotten to meet many of you at the post-screening Q&As. 

One question I often get is: What’s the film’s origin story? There are many answers to this, but my favorite stretches back nearly three decades to the first time I met Bob in an encounter that I didn’t realize would change my life. 

It was late November 1995, and he was still Secretary of Labor. I was a college senior whose summer internship at ABC News had turned into a part-time freelance gig thanks to a generous producer who passed me tasks she didn’t want to handle herself. One assignment was heading to Boston’s Logan Airport on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving to get a sound bite from Bob on his way home from D.C.

It was clear from the moment he sat down that I was dealing with a pro. I, on the other hand, was sweating into the one sports coat I owned, gripping my yellow legal pad scribbled with questions and notes I had spent hours compiling. It was immediately clear that my preparation didn’t matter. Bob knew exactly what he wanted to say. Five minutes after a friendly “hello,” he was out the door with a “Happy Thanksgiving.” 

That interview would kick off my career in television news. But our paths didn’t overlap again until 25 years later.

I had just launched a Substack newsletter called Steady with my longtime friend and collaborator Dan Rather. And Bob was considering starting his own. Since we both lived in the Bay Area, Bob’s collaborator and friend, Heather Kinlaw Lofthouse, reached out to see if I would meet them for breakfast and offer Substacking advice. It would be the first of many such get-togethers.

Talking to Bob means being fully engaged, and over the course of our conversations, I saw a side of him that I hadn’t seen before, despite his many appearances on cable news, on late-night talk shows, and as a social media star. 

He was as eloquent as ever, but his in-person delivery is different. His eyes dance, his voice shifts playfully in pitch, and his expressiveness feels completely unguarded.

I started to wonder: How can I capture this version of Bob to share with others?

Then Heather told me something that only a handful of people knew at the time: Bob had decided to retire from teaching after the upcoming spring semester. He hadn’t yet shared his plans with UC Berkeley; he wasn’t eager to broadcast his retirement (something we ended up capturing memorably in the film). 

I immediately knew I wanted to get him experiencing this chapter of his life on camera. And I wanted to anchor the narrative of whatever we might make around some essential questions: How do you step away from something that brings you joy and a deep sense of fulfillment? How do you confront finality—especially when what, how, and why you're teaching is desperately needed in a chaotic and unjust world? And what goes through your mind when it’s finally time to say goodbye?

I consider one of the primary responsibilities of a documentarian to be preserving moments in time that might otherwise be lost to posterity. But the initial plan was modest: to film Bob’s final class and record an interview about it.

Bob agreed, a bit reluctantly, to participate—without knowing how the footage might be used or having control over the final product. After further discussion with Heather, who believed in the project enough to sign on as producer, and my filmmaker friend Ian Cheney, who joined as executive producer, we decided to expand the scope.

I ended up interviewing Bob three times—at the beginning, middle, and end of the semester—as well as filming scenes in his office, a retirement party, and his favorite deli. Maybe, I thought, we had enough to make a decent short film.

During production, however, I also knew we were capturing something unique—an inspiring ode to education through the eyes of a remarkable man confronting his own limits and mortality.

Watching Bob teach is like witnessing a great stage actor hold an audience spellbound with his words. The interviews are even more powerful, amplifying the sincerity and emotion that first inspired me during our breakfast meetings. Bob speaks openly about his hopes and frustrations, what teaching means to him, and the educators who comforted and inspired him as a child. He also answers my questions about aging — and what it feels like to step away from a job he had long seen as his calling — with unflinching honesty. It was a vulnerable moment in his life, and he didn’t hold back.

Once we got into the edit room, the more we tried to trim the footage down to the length of a short film, the more it felt like we were losing the soul of the story — the moments that gave it nuance, heart, and complexity. So we let the content dictate the form, and the film grew into a feature-length documentary. Thanks to the artistry of editor and producer Josh Melrod, it now breathes with an urgency and pace that do justice to both Bob’s presence and his purpose.

From the start, I knew I didn’t want to make a traditional biographical documentary filled with celebrity interviews, personal testimonials, and archival footage. I wanted to create a narrative space where Bob could reflect on the past, grapple with the present, and contemplate the future — a space that felt natural because it was unforced.

The Last Class explores the arc of a life — a theme that is ultimately universal, and one that Bob faces with a brave and bracing candor.

I like to think Bob agreed to let us film him because he’s a teacher — and he understands that if we witness him wrestling with his own journey, it might help us navigate our own.

Note: If you are on Bluesky and wish to follow me, you can find me at: @elliotkirschner.bsky.social

Here’s The Last Class website:
https://www.thelastclassfilm.com/

And trailer: