In the darkness of an Amsterdam cinema during IDFA, Anne Marie Borsboom sat stunned as Mama Colonel played out on screen—a portrait of a Congolese police officer trying to save children accused of witchcraft. As the film ended and the lights came up, the room sat in a heavy hush. «People wanted to help,» she remembers. «And my partner turned to me and said, ‘Now you stop being angry.’» For Borsboom, it wasn’t just the cruelty onscreen that provoked rage, but the impotence that followed. Time and again, she had witnessed audiences moved to tears and then ushered to the exits. The emotional connection—so potent during the screening—had nowhere to go. «It seemed so insane that we, as an industry, were doing nothing,» she says.

That frustration would eventually give birth to ShareDoc — a nonprofit digital platform that connects audiences directly to the protagonists of documentary films, allowing them to offer concrete support just moments after the credits roll. It’s a simple concept, but also a radical one. ShareDoc isn’t about abstract notions of «impact.» It’s about immediacy, specificity, and access. As Borsboom puts it, «We’ve thrown away that moment of empathy. And it really is just a moment—the audience isn’t with you forever. Maybe 20 minutes, maybe half an hour. But when the film ends, we need to give them a way to respond. To act on the feeling they’ve just experienced.»

One QR scan

That opportunity now comes in the form of a QR code embedded directly in the film’s credits and not printed on a flyer, not buried in a website URL, but placed at the point of emotional climax. «I’d seen many films attempt to run their own campaigns, but they’d say something like, ‘Go to our website,’ which meant: go home, open your laptop, and remember the URL. And by then, that emotional connection is gone.» ShareDoc dissolves that friction. One scan takes viewers to a campaign page where they can donate, volunteer, sign a petition, or share the film: no app, no login, no delay.

When Borsboom first proposed using QR codes to bridge film and action, people scoffed. «Nobody knows what that is,” she was told. But then the pandemic arrived, and with it a global crash course in QR code literacy. Suddenly, her seemingly futuristic idea became basic infrastructure.

The foundation’s mission isn’t to support filmmakers per se, but the protagonists at the heart of their stories—those whose lives form the narrative spine of so many powerful documentaries, but who too often remain economically untouched by the success of the films they appear in. «With Mama Colonel, the need for support was so obvious. Not all films require that. My own films never did. So when people asked, ‘Did you do this because you had a film to promote?’ I said, ‘No. I did it because I saw so many other films that needed it.’»

What ShareDoc enables is reciprocity. It recognises that audiences often leave a film with a real emotional stake, and it refuses to waste that. But Borsboom is clear: the tool is only as good as the people who use it. «Filmmakers sometimes ask me, ‘What do you do for us?’ And I tell them: I don’t do anything except give you the tool. Just like an editing program, you can use it to make a brilliant film or a bad one. It’s just a tool.» Filmmakers build their own campaign pages, write their calls to action, and upload trailers. ShareDoc does not control the narrative, nor does it profit from it. «As soon as you subscribe and make it, it’s your page, not mine.»

«The only real rule we have is that the film must comply with European values or norms. »

Ethical framework

This commitment to decentralisation also shapes the platform’s ethical framework. ShareDoc is open to anyone, but not everyone. «The only real rule we have is that the film must comply with European values or norms. For example, if a film promoted an anti-abortion message, we’d say no.» In practice, that means the platform curates by alignment rather than selection. Borsboom doesn’t want to choose films, but until the platform is universally known, she still finds herself reaching out to filmmakers who’ve never heard of it, often at festivals, where most ShareDoc discovery still happens.

The platform’s impact is measured not just in donations, but in consequences. A 30-minute film called Inside Kabul raised €5,000—not an enormous sum in European terms, but enough to fund a family’s escape. «That was the equivalent of a three-year salary in Kabul,» she says. «It gave the whole family a chance to plan their escape.» Another short, just ten minutes long, featured a boy scavenging near gold mines. It raised only €40. «I was almost embarrassed to send it. But to him, that was a month’s salary. He was overjoyed.»

That materiality is why ShareDoc doesn’t just support donations—it also provides data. The site maps audience interaction, showing not only where viewers are located, but also where donations come from, where the film was shot, and what regions are responding most actively. «If you click on the countries on our map, you’ll be taken to an impact page… We separate those categories—production country, filming location, and donation source—so that the data is meaningful and detailed.» Distributors and impact producers now use the platform not only to raise money, but to locate audiences and shape campaigns. «Many professionals use the platform as a search tool,» she says. «Distributors visit regularly to look for new content or projects they can approach.»

Importantly, ShareDoc also removes financial barriers for filmmakers. Creating a page is free. Using the «Hands On” button to mobilise volunteers or sign petitions comes with no fee. Only when monetary donations are involved does a transparent 5% processing cost apply. The platform supports international payments, including PayPal, SEPA, credit cards, and mobile systems like Apple Pay and Google Pay. Recently, it also added real-time currency conversion to make it easier for donors in countries like India or Canada to give with confidence.

Ambassadors and future

From the beginning, Borsboom insisted that the platform remain small and independent. «I have no interest in expanding into a big organisation with a large staff—that would go completely against the spirit of why I started this. Because at its core, this platform is meant to support protagonists, not to make a profit.» Despite that modesty, ShareDoc’s reach has grown significantly. Today, users from 87 countries have interacted with the site. Films like Daughters of the Sun have raised over €30,000. And its partnerships — with One World (CZ), Movies that Matter, DocsBarcelona, and Nordisk Panorama —position it increasingly as a fixture in the European documentary landscape.

That growth has also spawned a quiet network of ambassadors. «Some filmmakers who already have their films on the platform have even offered to become ambassadors. I now have someone in Barcelona, someone in London, and recently someone in Uganda… The idea is that, over time, we’ll have someone in every major city.»

And still, the biggest obstacle remains visibility. «Everything else is going incredibly well—so well, in fact, that I feel a bit overwhelmed,» Borsboom says. «The only problem left is visibility. That’s all we need now—to spread the word further.”

For filmmakers, the message is simple: if your film centres on someone whose life matters—and whose future depends on more than applause and awards—ShareDoc is ready. There are no gatekeepers. No fees. No bureaucracy. Just a way to ensure your film doesn’t end when the credits roll.

As Borsboom puts it, «Every single filmmaker I’ve spoken to understands the need. They immediately say, ‘Why didn’t this platform exist 20 years ago?’» It didn’t. But it does now. And that’s enough to change everything.