50 Best 2024 Documentaries So Far

The Euro 2020 finals was a cultural event, a celebration, a riot. This documentary perfectly captures the weight of the attack on Wembley, which it takes the time to characterize as like a holy ground being desecrated. But for the most part, the story spotlights the thousands of destructive drunks that needed to make it inside Wembley because of the magic in the air that day that you felt from every car on the road, every passenger on the train, every exploding glass bottle, and every bleeding individual. It’s got accounts from diehard English and Italian fans, Wembley security, and media personnel, which when put together, creates a fascinating stampede control documentary that also takes a sad turn post-game.

When people talk about hip-hop’s origins, they tend to forget an important element: dance. Along with DJs and rappers, it’s the breakdancers who helped popularize the culture and pushed hip-hop into the movement that it is today. Breakin’ On the One gives the dancers their due and shines a light on their overlooked history. We see how it served as a buoy that saved kids from potential crime on the streets, how inextricable it is to New York history, and how it even has roots in traditional African culture. The music and editing work hand in hand to match the dynamic boom-boom-boom energy of hop-hop and breakdance, making it exhilarating to watch.

It’s immediately apparent that there are more carefully made documentaries out there than Remembering Gene Wilder. The film is riddled with pixelated photos for one, and the overall tone is fawning for another. But Wilder is too great of a man to be affected by mediocre filmmaking, and so Remembering Gene Wilder still makes for an entertaining and insightful watch despite its small faults. The film is less about his life and more about his work—a chronological account of his career with nuggets of wisdom for performers, comedians, and writers tucked neatly in between. It still dives into his personal life, to be sure, but as Wilder will readily admit, his creative decisions spell out all you need to know about him.

It makes sense that a documentary about Faye Dunaway doubles as a documentary about the best of late 20th-century cinema. Dunaway, after all, has starred in many defining films, including Bonnie & Clyde, Chinatown, and Network, the latter of which won her an Oscar. But there are times when it feels like the documentary equates Dunaway to her career, and we get way too many clips of these admittedly great films, as opposed to more intimate slices of Dunaway’s life. Still, it’s heartwarming to see Dunaway take control of her narrative after falling victim to the press’ relentless defamation of the star. Yes, she’s difficult and a diva, she admits that many times in the documentary. But she’s also a fastidious hard worker—someone’s gotta be, or else they wouldn’t come up with the classics that we have now.

Far from a typical documentary, Skywalkers is as relentless and fast-paced as the climbers it follows. As Angela Nikolau and Ivan Beerkus illegally scale towers and skyscrapers with little more than the clothes on their back, Director Jeff Zimbalist throws viewers into the next thrilling scenario whether they’re ready to or not. It’s amazing how much of the breathless editing replicates the energy between Nikolau and Beerkus, regardless of whether they’re in action rooftopping or deep in an argument about trust and relationships. The film has a deep emotional core that makes it resonate more than it should; people might come in for the extremity of their sport, but they’ll leave learning something worthwhile about love.

If you’ve seen the bone-chilling Oscar-winning film The Zone of Interest, then The Commandant’s Shadow isn’t just supplementary but necessary viewing. It interviews and interrogates the son of SS officer Rudolf Höss, who describes his childhood in Auschwitz as “idyllic,” and parallels his life with that of an Auschwitz survivor and her family. They’re not asked “gotcha” questions, though there are some moments where Höss’s family members’ insularity shocks you. Instead, everyone is given the time and space to reflect honestly about the pain and trauma that continues to live on in their families. It’s a difficult film to sit through, but insightful and ever-so-resonant in an age where mass torture and genocide continue in many parts of the world.

Dog lovers will think they already know everything there is to know about their favorite furry companions, while those indifferent to the animal might think a film will do little to sway their opinion. But Netflix’s Inside the Mind of a Dog makes a surprisingly compelling case for diving deeper into canine psychology. Experts weigh in on their intelligence, which many believe surpasses that of apes, our closest mammal relative, as well as their loyalty and charm. People take the latter two for granted, but they’re actually part of a successful evolution strategy experts have dubbed “survival of the friendliest.” The documentary is full of interesting takes like these, but what really tugs at the heartstrings are the stories of the service dogs we follow. It helps, too, that the movie is narrated by an enthusiastic-sounding Rob Lowe, himself an eager dog owner, and peppered with engaging animations and adorable pup clips.

The documentary starts off with a feeler that this is a wild soap opera, a real life science experiment that cannot be enacted in good conscience. If you’d never read the blurb, you’d see the coincidences slowly revealed layer by layer until the story finally clicks. Early on, it feels reliant on telling as opposed to showing, but it could just be a case of working with what you have footage-wise. The openness of our main interviewees does get better with time, but the exploration of the psychological effect and implications of such an event was lacking considering the level of coincidence we’re dealing with. All in all, it’s heartwarming, albeit with the exciting story beats very spaced out.

Invisible Victim may not be all that different from the plethora of true crime documentaries available on Netflix and other streaming platforms, but it is worth watching if only to see how misogyny continues to be rampant at best and deadly at worst. Despite being beaten, kidnapped, drugged, and eventually murdered by the superstar footballer Bruno, Eliza Samudio was still largely framed as the perpetrator in the public’s eye because she was deemed a slut. “She died because she was money hungry,” one fan said on social media. A reporter, meanwhile, asked Bruno, “How are you handling all the embarrassment coming your way?” as if the real crime was Eliza tainting Bruno’s glowing career, instead of Bruno ending her short life. The documentary succeeds in arousing the viewer’s anger, though it doesn’t offer anything particularly new to a well-known case apart from Eliza’s never-before-seen messages to her friend, which revealed her fearlessness and defiance up until her untimely end.

Though it’s a bit chaotic in structure—it’s chronological but all over the place—The Stones and Brian Jones is a compelling and crucial portrait of The Rolling Stones’ co-founding member and original leader. Jones’ life is typical of rock stars, from the misunderstood childhood and philandering habits to drug dependence and luxurious lifestyle, but director Nick Broomfield tries to paint more nuance into his character. We’re reminded, through interviews with past lovers and even letters from a family that disowned him, that he was also ambitious, insecure, sensitive, affectionate, gentle, and moody. Too often, Broomfield will relish in Jones’ tragedy, when he could’ve focused more on his musical prowess and technical knowledge, but it is overall a fair picture. It’s sympathetic to Jones of course, but Broomfield doesn’t forget to include excerpts from Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, who ‘till now seem to harbor mixed feelings over Jones (he did have Jagger arrested after all). There’s drama and tension and a good deal of great music, which are always fun to watch.