In an interview, Conan compared Conan O’Brien Must Go to a travel documentary, except, he said, you don’t learn anything new or interesting. After watching the show, I can safely say that that couldn’t be further from the truth, though it is indicative of the kind of self-deprecating humor he employs throughout the show. What you learn from watching Conan hop from one country to another, improvising and befriending people from different parts of the world, is that it is possible to be both ridiculously funny and genuinely kind. Many comedians joke at the expense of other people—they’re willing to humiliate them, not themselves—but Conan is the opposite. He is always the butt of a joke. Even when he’s pointing out something inane, it’s his incredulity that we’re laughing at. Upon watching this four-parter, you also learn that no one can match, much less top, what Conan does.

Anyone tired of the same old cliches found in true crime shows (and there are a lot of them) will feel reinvigorated watching The Jinx. Director Andrew Jarecki goes one step further from the usual fare by interrogating the subject, himself an unnerving character, and unearthing evidence that changes the trajectory of his story. The Jinx is a great true crime documentary in that it’s gripping and well-researched, but it’s also great television, point blank. It’s thought-provoking, unsettling, and strives to always keep the viewer at the edge of their seat.

Before the documentary, I knew very little about Dr. Ann Burgess, and as I watched it, I realized it’s not because her contributions to history were so little (just the opposite, they’re incredibly important and far-reaching) but because Burgess doesn’t like to promote herself all that much. “There are too many things to do to be bothered by all that,” she says with impressive urgency at 87. Thankfully, Mastermind director Abigail Fuller distills Burgess’ storied career into three deeply engaging episodes for all to witness and enjoy. Here, you see Burgess standardize criminal profiling and help agents capture serial killers like the notorious Ski-Mask Rapist. You also see other sides to Burgess—the nurse, mother, mentor, professor, and advocate—and you start to feel frustrated on her behalf, because she should get way more credit than what she’s been given thus far.

Sometimes thinking about your home state can feel complicated, because while it’s your home, the events and issues and controversies of the state can make people think differently of it. With plenty of controversies but also having the most residents, Texas does have a distinct cultural identity, and Texan native director Richard Linklater explores its different sides, including the sides unheard of, through the three-part God Save Texas. Teaming up with Alex Stapleton and Iliana Sosa, they tackle the Huntsville prison complex, the Houston oil industry, and the borders of El Paso, but they do so through a compassionate, personal perspective that simply and subtly shifts our understanding of the Lone Star State, and America as a whole.

Stax’s existence may have been short-lived, but its impact continues to be felt in every R&B record produced to this day. That’s one of the points this four-part documentary from HBO successfully makes so that by the end, you’re convinced Stax should be just as recognizable and appreciated as Motown, Atlantic, and other influential record labels. For the most part, the series resembles the typical documentary in that it’s propelled by animated talking heads and complementary archival footage, but the performances of Stax stars, including and most especially Otis Redding and Isaac Hayes, inject the documentary with an energy and electricity that pushes you to move and groove. The old-school editing feels thoughtful, too, while the additional animation adds a delightfully nostalgic touch. The documentary itself may not be as revolutionary as the events it captures, but it is just as enlightening, electrifying, and enjoyable.

The inherent drama of succession stories has always made for great, entertaining TV. You only have to look at Game of Thrones, Dynasty, Yellowstone, and, well, Succession to know that. With Ren Faire, director Lance Oppenheim (Some Kind of Heaven, Spermworld) ups the ante by following the real and ongoing power struggle between the Renaissance fair employees clawing and scratching their way to the top. They’re so animated and dead-set on inheriting a literal kingdom that Oppenheim and his team hardly have to do anything to color this tale. And yet, color it they do, to wonderfully cinematic and comedic effect. The employees are (willingly) dubbed “Lord of Corn” and “The Fairy Godmother,” while Coulam is of course the longstanding King. You get the sense that their feuds are heightened in the presence of the cameras, but feel entertained nonetheless. To cap things off, the documentary is shot using grainy unfocused film, sometimes edited in the trippy way low-budget 60’s films used to look so that it matches the surreal reality of the fair. The story could’ve been interesting on its own, but the artful and intentional way it’s told elevates it.

The hook of the first episode is a very effective jumping off point, placing us in the middle of the past bond between 2 sisters. Then it immediately occurs to you how wild this premise is, and that in some ways it’s still ongoing. A lot of 7M/Shekinah church members and their distraught family members are interviewed to paint the clearest possible picture, and it’s clear that a lot of care and detail was put into this project to sway a viewer away from easy victim-blaming. It’s really tense and generally sad, but the pace definitely dips after episode 1, but it’s also a 3-parter, so you might as well finish the whole thing.

As one of the most decorated Olympians in history, the gymnast Simon Biles hardly needs an introduction. It’s better to see her in action, anyway, than read her endless accolades, which is why Simone Biles: Rising wastes no time launching into action and getting to the heart of the matter. The documentary begins with Biles’ controversial exit from the Tokyo 2020 Olympics and rehashes the harsh and unfair criticism she received soon after. We see the toll this takes on Biles and understand how widespread of a problem it actually is–the expectations, the pressures, the sheer physical and mental struggle to go beyond what is humanly possible. The film challenges our ideas of heroism and athleticism, and by the second episode, it touches on something more poignant as Biles shares her traumatic past as a fostered kid and a Black girl breaking into a sport dominated mostly by white, blonde women. With all the twists and turns the dramatic series puts us through, it expertly sets up Biles (and our hopefully more compassionate excitement) for her much-awaited comeback in Paris.

Directed by Morgan Neville (20 Feet From Stardom, Won’t You Be My Neighbor), Steve! is an appropriately fun and artistic documentary capturing its subject matter’s fun and artistic spirit. It’s a delight to see Martin’s other personas, such as his early magician self, his philosophy major self, and his quietly humorous cartoonist self. We’re so used to seeing his fast-paced zaniness that these parts of the documentary are almost shocking to see. But maybe the most illuminating role Martin plays is that of his current self. In equal measure, he cracks jokes and offers wise words about aging which, at 75, he takes in enviously great stride.

In Restless Dreams is comprised of two parts. The first, a walk down memory lane, will likely be everyone’s favorite. It stitches old clips of Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel, way back when the two performed as the doo-wop band Tom and Jerry in the ‘50s, and follows Simon all the way to England and back in the US for most of the ‘60s when he wrote classics like The Sound of Silence and Mrs. Robinson. This is brought to life by wonderful editing, the thoughtful and tasteful kind that makes you sigh in awe and go, at peak moments, “Oh, so that’s what that song is about!” It supplements Simon’s narration which, thankfully, isn’t too on the nose. The second part follows 80-year-old Simon in the present as he tries to realize a dream of a song he’s had, called Seven Psalms. Witnessing an artist as gifted as Simon still chip away at his craft isn’t just inspiring; it feels like a sacred treat, a special and almost intrusive look into the inner workings of a musical genius.