50 Best 2024 Documentaries to Watch

After the La Manada rape case in 2016, it was necessary to document this event, especially since the widespread national outrage and demonstrations managed to move the country to change the way Spain defines consent. You Are Not Alone: Fighting the Wolf Pack documents this arduous journey. While it’s done through the familiar Netflix true crime approach, there’s some respect given to the victim that hasn’t been given previously by the media. The film sticks to the actual verbatim words used by the victim, albeit edited for clarity, but they ensured that their words were not accompanied with photos or similar looking actors, keeping the truth of their words without risking their safety. While the documentary’s direction isn’t new, the outrage is still felt, as well as the genuine hope of a country that came together to ensure justice.

For people having difficulty bearing a child, artificial insemination is one way to go for parenthood, but going to sperm banks can be expensive, shrouded with too much anonymity, and have had many incidents of malpractice. Some people would rather take things into their own hands. Spermworld explores the journeys of three different internet sperm donors, who meet with hopeful parents. It can be awkward, even when the donors are fairly ordinary guys with fairly decent motives, but the way director Lance Oppenheim approaches the community is disarmingly human, acknowledging the strange quirks that come with the donation, but also the interesting parental desires human beings do have.

In 1966, Elizabeth Taylor and her friends recorded themselves talking about the ups and downs of her life. These candid conversations are the basis of The Lost Tapes, a revealing tell-all that allows Taylor to set the record straight in her own words. Here, you get to see and hear the many parts of Taylor–her romanticism, activism, and passion, as well as her fun banter with the journalists, friends, and lovers who alternately interview her. Of course, the downside to having Taylor and her loved ones narrate a biography is you only get one side of the story, while the thornier parts of her life are skated over. Things like child labor and having to play a married-24-year-old at 16 years old, or being physically abused and suffering a miscarriage, these are things Taylor, and therefore the documentary, shy away from expounding. But while it may not be the definitive documentary on Taylor, it certainly is the most personal and intimate. It also serves as a reminder of how we’d all like to be remembered—in our own and our cherished friends’ words.

At first, you wonder, couldn’t this behind-the-scenes look at the making of The Boy and The Heron just be a DVD special? But a few minutes in, it becomes clear how rich the material is. It’s not just about Miyazaki and the making of a movie, it’s about him grappling with grief and transforming it into art. A surprising chunk of this documentary is about death. Miyazaki’s friends and colleagues are passing away, it seems, every month, and the only way Miyazaki can mourn and honor them is through his (their) art. The Boy and The Heron itself is a fulfillment of a promise Miyazaki made to his closest friend, Isao Takahata, or Pak-san, as Miyazaki lovingly calls him. It’s Pak-san whom he mourns the most in the movie, but almost everyone who’s passed makes an appearance both in the documentary and the film. The lines between the two are often blurred by Miyazaki, in his failing memory, and by documentary director Kaku Arakawa. Arakawa’s editing is chaotic, if not experimental. He cuts between reality and fiction—documentary footage and Ghibli clips—faster than you can make sense of it all. “I opened my brain way too far for this project,” Miyazaki claims, and you can feel the exhilaration and fear in every second of this brilliant film.

Everything about Sugarcane is arresting, whether it’s the epic shots of the sweeping reservation (“Canada is our land,” one native announces), the emotional moments shared by survivors of the abusive residential schools, or the damning discoveries they find in an investigation into the Catholic priests. Every second of it is sure to shock and infuriate. Not everything is tragic though. There are slivers of hope, especially from the independently assembled team leading the investigation. The police are apathetic and the suspects are evasive, but despite the deep trauma, pain, and violence the community of Sugarcane has gone through, they persist.

If you’re expecting a documentary about the particular U2 concert in Sarajevo, to focus exclusively on U2, you’re not really going to get it in Kiss the Future. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it’s probably the best approach for this particular documentary, as it focuses more on the way Sarajevans found solidarity with each other through the music U2 made in response to the Northern Ireland troubles, and thus, of course, the film needed to focus as well on the Sarajevans’ conflict. Director Nenad Cicin-Sain got key viewpoints on the Bosnian War in Sarajevo, such as Christiane Amanpour, who covered the war, and former President Bill Clinton, but Kiss the Future shines when we hear from the people on the ground, from the Sarajevans that gone through this harrowing time.

Witches begins as an innocuous exploration into witchery: how they’re depicted and why they’re alluring. Director Elizabeth Sankey builds an amusing collage of witches from films like The Craft and shows like Bewitched. At this point, you expect it to go a certain way–it resembles the many documentaries that are delightful yet detached, educational yet nowhere near novel. But then it makes a fearless and interesting turn. Sankey tells a deeply personal story about her struggles with childbirth and motherhood, connects it to how past societies crucified witches (many of whom were misunderstood and misdiagnosed mothers), and invites friends, experts, doctors, and historians in on the conversation to create something more holistic, historical, and honest than your typical documentary. It’s equal parts moving and enlightening, but most importantly it rouses you into empathy and action. Hopefully, the belittling of the child-bearing and child-rearing experience ends now.

In 1914, Sir Ernest Shackleton set out to the Antarctic in the hopes of making the first land crossing on the continent. His ship, the Endurance, couldn’t complete the journey, and so Shackleton and his crew had to pivot from setting a record to simply surviving. Almost a century later, a group of scientists are determined to find Shackleton’s abandoned ship. This documentary, directed by the award-winning duo behind Free Solo, The Rescue, and Nyad, alternates between The Endurance’s magnificent past and tragic present and mostly succeeds in telling a balanced story. The past, unsurprisingly, is more intriguing. It’s a nail-biting tale of survival, amplified by the use of colorized footage shot by one of the crewmen. The present is informational, but it struggles to match the scope of Shackleton’s journey. Both tales are inspiring nonetheless, and woven together as expertly here, prove to be an educating and entertaining watch.

When Moviepass announced that it would allow you to watch at least one theater film a day for just $10/month, the deal seemed too good to be true. And it was, though it wouldn’t be apparent till a couple years later after top executives Mitch Lowe and Ted Farnsworth burned through the company’s funding and ultimately ran the company down to the ground. That’s one story MoviePass, MovieCrash tells, that of a business that bit too much than it could chew. But the documentary also brings to the fore the overlooked story of Stacy Spikes and Hamet Watt, the company’s Black co-founders who built something special and innovative, but who were shoved off in a frustrating move of greed and racial politics. That’s the more interesting part of the film, especially since Spikes eventually reclaims what’s his. It’s also what gives the documentary more heart than the usual tale of a business’s downfall.

With Netflix producing countless true crime documentaries, you’d be forgiven for dismissing How to Rob a Bank as usual, forgettable fare. But the documentary ever so slightly curbs cliches by focusing on a theme—in this case Hollywood, in honor of Scurlock’s pseudonym and love of movies—without losing sight of the bigger picture. Which is to say, directors Seth Porges and Stephen Robert Morse go all in the movie theme without giving way to cheesiness, mostly by honing in on Scurlock’s favorite films like Heat and Point Blank and effectively replicating the thrill of those action classics. It uses fine, storyboard-like illustrations that are mostly entertaining and nostalgic but occasionally quite beautiful, and borrows the same synth soundtrack from the said films. But it even though it initially sets Scurlock as the anti-hero, a Robin Hood of the times, its sympathies lie with the victims, the traumatized bank tellers and goers. It’s a smartly made and engaging film, complete with the quintessential shootouts and elaborate heists, and it thankfully doesn’t let the talking heads do all the work.