Reviewers cited the filmmakers' unprecedented proximity to key events and praised the film for its "riveting narrative";[1] criticism focused on its lack of context and pro-Chávez bias.

[2] The Revolution Will Not Be Televised paints Chávez in a favorable light,[3][4] which has led to disputes over its neutrality and accuracy; particular attention is paid to its framing of the violence of 11–13 April, the filmmakers' editing of the timeline, and the omission of incidents and personnel.

After Juan Vicente Gómez's long reign as president ended in 1935, a series of military rulers followed, concluding with Marcos Pérez Jiménez's overthrow by general uprising in 1958.

[5] In the 1998 presidential election, Chávez won 56.2% of the vote, on a promise to "end the corruption of several decades" and institute a new Bolivarian Revolution that he felt would secure Latin America's true independence from the outside world.

[nb 2] The crisis reached a head when Chávez attempted to remove the management of the state oil company, Petróleos de Venezuela (PDVSA), provoking a showdown.

[11] The film outlines Chávez's rise to power, before covering his day-to-day routine and appearances on his television show, Aló Presidente, which includes a phone-in for citizens to speak with the president.

Bartley become fascinated with how those affected by the tragedy perceived Chávez, and in late 2000,[22] she and Donnacha Ó Briain—a filmmaker and former colleague who shared her interest in "Latin American politics and issues around globalization"[23]—spent two weeks in Caracas to determine the feasibility of a film project.

[27] BSÉ set about exploring avenues of funding;[28] the organization persuaded Bartley and Ó Briain to make a short pilot to show to potential investors,[29] but refused the filmmakers' application for a €60,000 grant towards their €131,000 production budget.

[30] However, RTÉ's Kevin Dawson pushed the film at a European Broadcasting Union pitching session, securing the interest of German television channel ZDF, which subsequently provided funds.

They calculated that they needed to "press the right buttons" to gain his support, so they presented him with an old edition of the memoirs of the general Daniel Florence O'Leary, who had fought alongside Simón Bolívar.

[66] El Universal said the Venezuelan government had 10,000 copies made,[50] and according to National Review, the Venezuela Information Office (VIO) "encouraged art-house theaters" to screen the film.

[50] Peace Action New York was given permission for a screening during a fund raiser in the Lincoln Center, where 250 people paid $35 (€30) each to see the film and take part in a "question-and-answer session" with guests such as Leonor Granado, the Venezuelan Consul General.

[72] The previously accepted international view was that Chávez's ousting came from a "spontaneous popular response" to the repression of his regime; the film "directly contradicts" this position,[23] and since its release it has rapidly become "the prevailing interpretation of [the crisis]".

[76] John Burns, writing in The Sunday Times, restated many of Gunson's arguments,[80] and the BBC received 4,000 e-mails demanding that Storyville's commissioning editor, Nick Fraser, be sacked.

He wrote to David Power expressing particular concern over an error with the end titles and the use of out-of-chronology footage, saying the latter was "a real problem—particularly ... since it has been used in a film dedicated to exposing the frauds of Venezuelan TV".

[80] The furor came at a difficult time for the corporation, which was under the spotlight of the Hutton Inquiry, the official investigation into the circumstances surrounding the death of David Kelly; the BBC had been criticized for reporting that intelligence dossiers had been "sexed up" by the UK government to justify the 2003 invasion of Iraq.

"[10] One of the film's key contentions is that the private media aired footage selectively to make it look like the violence of 11 April was caused by Chávez's supporters, portraying them as an "irrational and uncivilized mob".

[60] Private television repeatedly showed Chávez's supporters on Puente Llaguno as they shot at Baralt Avenue below, an area purportedly full of opposition marchers.

[40] Brian A. Nelson agreed with the analysis, claiming that Baralt Avenue was not as empty as the film portrays and that the filmmakers "put a black bar at the top of the frame to hide the Metropolitan Police trucks that were still there".

[82] Bartley and Ó Briain reaffirmed their claim that the opposition did not pass below the Puente Llaguno bridge, citing eyewitness statements—including one from Le Monde Diplomatique's deputy editor—and an Australian documentary, Anatomy of a Coup, that "came to conclusions similar to our own".

"[9] The film presents footage of its "violent finale"—including an image from another day—as if it occurred during the protest's approach to the palace, accompanied by the narrated claim that "some in the vanguard looked ready for a fight".

[9] Bartley and Ó Briain admit that they included a "limited" amount of archive footage,[74] but say it was a "legitimate reconstruction"[85] to build context "before the core narrative of the coup [took] off" as they "could not be everywhere filming at all times".

[74] Gunson does agree that the film was right to point out that the private media "behaved disgracefully" by "systematically [excluding the pro-Chávez] viewpoint from print, radio, and TV" during the period of the coup.

[9] However, the high command's senior figure, General Lucas Rincón (who announced Chávez's resignation on television), was not part of the coup and remained in the government after April 2002.

[1] Frank Scheck, writing in The Hollywood Reporter, said the film presented an enthralling story that "resembles a taut ... political thriller",[93] and Roger Ebert in the Chicago Sun-Times called it a "remarkable documentary" full of "astonishing shots".

[95] J. Hoberman of The Village Voice said the film was a "gripping" account that did "an excellent job in deconstructing the Venezuelan TV news footage of blood, chaos, and rival crowds", and said it was "nearly a textbook on media manipulation".

[96] Writing for The New York Times, Stephen Holden said the film was "a riveting documentary" that delivered "the suspense of a smaller-scale Seven Days in May", citing the way in which it examined how television can be used to "deceive and manipulate the public".

[4] Ty Burr in The Boston Globe called the film "our best chance" to find out what really happened on 11–13 April, but cautioned that the filmmakers' "pro-Chávez stance" meant that for wider context audiences should look elsewhere, as it left out too much of Chávez's record.

He said, "because [the filmmakers] view the chasm that divides Venezuela purely in the context of the Cold War and Latin American political instability, they downplay the class warfare that's exploding right in front of them.

[3] Desson Thomson of The Washington Post stated that the film successfully reproduced the "panic and fear" at the palace as events unfolded, saying it came across like a "raw, Costa-Gavras-style thriller" that was "worth watching down to the last thrilling minute".