Hoping to reveal the government’s illegal prying into its citizens’ lives, government information – much of it acquired by ethically dubious wiretaps – is stolen and released to the public, bringing questions and starting conversations about the government and the shady border between protecting the country and abusing one's powers.

It sounds like a story ripped from today’s headlines, probably one featuring whistleblower and current fugitive Edward Snowden. As it turns out, however, the story doesn’t take place now but over 40 years ago in 1971, and instead of Snowden’s name in middle of a "hero or villain" debate, it was a small group of daring activists called the Citizens’ Commission.

It’s a story all too familiar – as well as one not often told. However, bringing that all-too-relevant story back to the public’s conscience is the mission of "1971," the opening night selection at the Milwaukee Film Festival.

Premiering Thursday, Sept. 25 at 7 p.m. at the Oriental Theater, director Johanna Hamilton’s documentary tells the story of the brave men and women who broke into a small FBI office and stole incriminating files. It's a fascinating true heist tale, told with unprecedented help from former Commission members themselves – elusive individuals who haven’t been identified or attached their legal names to the burglary until now.

"It wasn’t immediately apparent that they would go on camera," Hamilton said. "But then I met with a few of them, and a couple days later, I got a phone call saying that they were prepared to go on camera."

Hamilton and former Washington Post reporter Betty Medsger have been working in tandem to bring the Commission’s timely story to life – on film for Hamilton, while Medsger has been putting together a book. Back in 1971, when she was working with the Post, Medsger was one of the first journalists to report on the break-in story and the stolen information anonymously sent to her by the Commission.

"20-plus years later, two of them revealed themselves to her, and she began writing a book," Hamilton recalled. "I’ve known Betty for over a decade. She was writing and researching her book for much of that time, and I would say periodically, ‘Let me know when you’re ready to make a film.’ I think she was so deeply immersed in her book that she wasn’t quite ready to hear that. But four years ago, she introduced me to them."

Even before she met the newly revealed Commission members, however, the documentarian was intrigued and beguiled by the amazing true story – a combination of a heist film and a political thriller that’s somehow gone mostly untouched by Hollywood screenwriters.

"This era of the Vietnam War has always personally fascinated me as a teenager in history classes," Hamilton said. "We focused in a specific class on the relationship between the press and the Vietnam War, and ever since then, it’s been something that’s fascinated me."

"Then the idea of these David and Goliath stories, people who took on this incredible risk and ultimately – and fortunately, in this case – had a good outcome," Hamilton continued. "They were able to reveal abuses of the highest level of the government that people might have suspected but would have never known otherwise. There’s something inherently appealing about that – and obviously getting to tell the story of these people who’d never been found. It was rather extraordinary that this was one of the largest unsolved FBI investigations."

As the Edward Snowden news broke during the filmmaking process, however, it seemed clear that "1971" was not going to be merely a period piece, but a story of increasing relevance to a concerned public.

"It happened as we were winding down – we were still editing, and Betty was still writing – but it was quite extraordinary, the timing," Hamilton said. "I always think of it in this way: The Citizens’ Commission provided documentary, empirical proof of what was going on and ignited this national conversation that it had never had before. Lo and behold, Edward Snowden provided proof again. It was quite extraordinary, the dovetailing of the two."

To tell their story, Hamilton didn’t want to simply have talking heads chatting dryly about history and path events. In order to give it a cinematic feel, the director decided early on to incorporate reenactments, a more common but still sometimes controversial filmmaking choice in a documentary.

"Nothing existed from that time, so it was really just their memories," Hamilton said. "Without the recreations, I felt that maybe it was a short film. With storytelling, you want to do it whole hog. It’s so significant what they did – these regular people who trained themselves to be amateur burglars – and at the same time, so improbable, so risky, so courageous or foolish, that just having a bunch of centenarians on screen talking about an event from 40 years ago wasn’t going to be enough for people today to put themselves in their shoes and immerse themselves."

To help bring the story to cinematic life, Hamilton hired on Maureen A. Ryan, who previously helped with the recreations in lauded docs like "Man on Wire," "Project Nim" and the 2012 Milwaukee Film Festival centerpiece "Mea Maxima Culpa: Silence in the House of God." With her help, a small feature film began growing inside of Hamilton’s documentary.

The two elements, documentary and cinematic, come together to tell the story of band of important rebels ­– all under the directorial eye of Hamilton, a rebel in her own, far less law-breaking way considering the distressingly low and disproportionate percentage of fellow female filmmakers able to find work in Hollywood.

"It’s definitely an issue," Hamilton said. "Is it an issue I think about every single day as I go about my work? No. In an ideal world, things will hopefully change. It’s definitely a problem, more on the narrative fiction world than with documentaries. Why that is, I’m not sure.

"Even in the documentary world, it’s astonishing how many women are producing, directing or in positions of power – and yet a majority of the distribution companies are helmed by men," Hamilton continued. "There’s so many female directors, and yet if you were to ask people to name documentary directors they know, they’d probably name all men: Michael Moore, Alex Gibney, Morgan Spurlock. Barbara Kopple might make it in there, but even in her veteran years, she doesn’t have the star power that these other guys do. I’m not sure what that’s about."

One thing is clear: Even over 40 years later – whether we’re discussing the ethics of government surveillance, women’s rights or merely the potential of a Baltimore Orioles / Pittsburgh Pirates World Series – 1971 is very much still alive.