What Done the Impossible is really about
Done the Impossible is a 79-minute documentary that captures a pivotal moment in television history—the moment when fans didn't just consume media, they actively resurrected it. Released in 2006, the film examines how the devoted audience for Joss Whedon's short-lived space western Firefly became the driving force behind the feature film Serenity. Rather than a conventional behind-the-scenes account, the documentary splits its focus between the cast and crew who made the original show and the passionate fans whose grassroots campaigns, DVD purchases, and sheer persistence convinced a major studio that there was enough demand to justify a theatrical release. It's a story about love, obsession, and the strange new power that internet-connected audiences were beginning to wield in the mid-2000s.
Behind the making of Done the Impossible and its place in fan culture
Done the Impossible emerged from the production company of the same name, a group of filmmakers who understood the Firefly phenomenon from the inside. The documentary arrived at a remarkable inflection point in entertainment history—2006 was the same year Serenity hit theaters, making this film both a chronicle of events and a real-time artifact of fandom's growing influence on studio decisions. The project didn't have the backing of a major distributor or significant theatrical run; instead, it found its audience the same way the show itself had: through devoted fans seeking out every scrap of related content. With a runtime of 79 minutes and an IMDb rating of 5.9, the film has accumulated a mixed critical legacy. What's striking is that the documentary doesn't shy away from including interviews with both the creators—writers, directors, and the cast members who'd poured themselves into a show that seemed doomed—and the fans themselves, some of whom became mini-celebrities within their own communities for organizing letter-writing campaigns and coordinating bulk DVD purchases.
Why Done the Impossible captures a specific cultural moment, for better and worse
The film works best when it's simply letting people talk about what Firefly meant to them. There's genuine affection on display, and you can feel the relief in the room when cast members and producers discuss the unexpected second life their work received. The documentary doesn't flinch from showing the mechanics of fan mobilization—the online forums, the conventions, the strategic thinking about how to make noise loud enough for studio executives to hear. That's valuable historical documentation. But here's where it gets complicated: the film also inadvertently reinforces every stereotype about sci-fi fandom that people in 2006 were already tired of hearing. There's an uncomfortable quality to watching fans describe themselves in ways that feel more like self-parody, and the documentary doesn't quite find the critical distance to interrogate whether those depictions are fair or whether the framing itself is part of the problem. What I keep coming back to is that the film gives fans buying DVDs far too much credit for getting Serenity made—as if studio decisions hinge entirely on passionate consumers rather than on market research, profit projections, and the particular leverage that Whedon himself carried as a creator. The most telling moments are the ones where you can see the filmmakers struggling with their own ambivalence about the story they're telling.
Where to stream Done the Impossible online
Done the Impossible is available on major OTT services, and you can check Movie OTT for current streaming availability in your region—the film's home base shifts occasionally, so it's worth verifying where it's currently live before you settle in to watch. If you're tracking down Firefly and Serenity content across multiple platforms, Movie OTT's aggregation tool can help you map out your viewing strategy across Netflix, Prime Video, and other major streaming providers. The documentary pairs well with rewatching Firefly itself, especially if you're curious about the behind-the-scenes dynamics that shaped the show's development and its relationship with its audience.
Frequently asked questions
Q: Is Done the Impossible based on a true story?
Yes—it's a documentary, so everything in it is drawn from real events. The film chronicles the actual fan campaigns that took place between Firefly's 2003 cancellation and Serenity's 2005 theatrical release, featuring real interviews with cast, crew, and fans who lived through that period.
Q: Who directed Done the Impossible?
The documentary was produced by Done The Impossible (DTI), a production company dedicated to telling the story of fan activism and the show's revival. The film is a collaborative project rather than the work of a single auteur director.
Q: Does Done the Impossible require me to have watched Firefly first?
It helps, but it's not strictly necessary. The documentary provides enough context about the show's premise and appeal that newcomers can follow along. That said, you'll get far more out of it if you're already familiar with why fans loved Firefly in the first place.
Q: How does Done the Impossible compare to other documentaries about cancelled shows?
It's one of the earliest fan-focused documentaries of its kind, which makes it historically interesting even if it hasn't aged perfectly. It predates the era when streaming platforms started routinely reviving cancelled series, so it captures a moment when fan intervention felt genuinely surprising to the entertainment industry.
Q: Why is the IMDb rating for Done the Impossible relatively low at 5.9?
The mixed rating reflects the documentary's uneven tone and the fact that it doesn't always succeed in its self-examination. Some viewers find it a genuine tribute; others feel it's either too credulous about fan power or too uncomfortable in its portrayal of fandom itself.
Final thoughts on why Done the Impossible still matters
Done the Impossible won't blow your mind as filmmaking, and it certainly won't make you feel great about every aspect of fandom culture. But it's essential viewing if you care about how audiences and creators negotiate power in the streaming age. The film is a time capsule from a moment when fans had just discovered they could move mountains—or at least convince studios to fund one more movie. That's worth watching, even if the documentary itself can't quite figure out how to feel about it.
