15 Best Documentaries on Disney Plus

Fire of Love is a documentary that follows Maurice and Katia Krafft, a scientist couple who’ve dedicated their entire professional lives to studying (and marveling at) volcanoes. The two met at university and have been inseparable ever since, chasing explosions around the world until their death at the Mount Unzen eruption in 1991.

The fiery passion the title refers to is as much about Maurice and Katia as it is about their dedication to volcanoes. Like any love story, it tracks how they were first wonderstruck by the formation and how that awe shaped their lives and led them to each other, as well as how they came to discover hard truths about it and dealt with the heartbreak that soon followed.

Combining the breathtaking footage the couple left behind with lovely writing and artful animation, director Sara Dosa creates a moving documentary about passion, adventure, and the world itself.

Summer of Soul would already be remarkable if it was just a collection of some of the greatest live performances ever put to film. Boasting a roster that includes Stevie Wonder, Nina Simone, Gladys Knight, and Sly and the Family Stone, the nearly-forgotten 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival featured in the documentary was an all-star catalog of some of the biggest names in popular music, all at pivotal moments in their careers. Seeing them at the height of their powers, in front of a Black audience that meant so much to them, makes for an unexpectedly emotional experience.

But Summer of Soul also expands beyond the actual concert, using the Harlem Cultural Festival to represent a turning point in Black culture and history, especially after the death of Martin Luther King Jr. Through the film’s pristine, electric editing and gorgeous archival restoration, music becomes a communal act of mourning, a rallying cry to face the uncertain future, and a celebration of a people and a heritage continuing to fight against erasure and persecution.

Before this documentary, I didn’t have the faintest clue that the formative films of my childhood—Star Wars, Superman, Indiana Jones, ET, and Harry Potter, to name a few—were scored by one man: John Williams. This film is a loving tribute to Williams, who at 92, is still as lively as ever as he shares how he stumbled into Hollywood and found his calling as the definitive movie composer. It features interviews with frequent collaborators like Steven Spielberg and Yoyo Ma and fans like Chris Martin and Seth MacFarlane, but it’s truly Williams’ music that makes watching this a special experience. As soon as you hear the chilling first notes of Jaws, the brash opening of Star Wars, and the melodic strings of Jurassic Park, you’re hooked. Then Williams, often along with the directors, go on and recount how those came to be, and you find yourself seated, eyes wide with wonder.

Alex Honnold might not be the most relatable guy ever, but his obsession with free solo climbing and his single-minded approach to life makes him so interesting. He’s precisely the type of person that chooses to follow his goals, at the expense of everything else. To a certain extent, he has to be — without whole-hearted commitment to the sport, he could literally die. It’s no wonder someone decided to document his climb of Yosemite’s El Capitan wall—a wall that’s 3,000 feet high and hasn’t been free-climbed alone before. The journey is visually stunning and a technical marvel in and of itself. However, what’s most memorable about this film is the character study of Honnold: he has an indescribable instinct that outsiders could only call a death wish. His emotional detachment might make this a frustrating film to watch, but Free Solo serves as a unique portrait of a man who spits at the face of death.

It’s hard not to be enchanted by Henson’s furtively creative world, which here is charmingly sectioned into nostalgic archival footage, stop motion art, and clips of Henson’s own experimental films early in his career. Those unfamiliar with Henson might think his story is simply the history of the Muppets and Sesame Street (though even then it would be a full one), but Henson has plenty of other creations too. He’s part of a line of chronically dissatisfied artists who are constantly reinventing and restlessly one-upping themselves, which is why his work evolved into early CGI, as well as The Dark Crystal franchise and films like Labyrinth. This lovingly told documentary tries to match Henson’s heart and creativity, while also showing the darker aspects of his life, such as the effect his nonstop artistry had on his family and health.

Few lived a life as extraordinary as the late Jane Goodall had, and even fewer are captured with such tenderness as this 2017 documentary. Of course, that’s partially because of the material. This film came about when Nat Geo unearthed around 140 hours of lost footage from wildlife photographer Hugo van Lawick, who shot Goodall’s expeditions after intense scientific scrutiny over her observations and methods. But what makes this film compelling is the way director Brett Morgen pieces together that footage. As Goodall fell deeper in love studying chimpanzees, Morgen pairs this devotion with the glimpses van Lawick captured as he and Goodall were falling in love with each other. So even without the insistent score, it’s easy to get swept by Jane’s passion and the confident way she set forth towards her calling.

Surprisingly dramatic for a documentary but without exoticizing its central characters for a privileged audience, The Territory is that rare film that rightfully portrays indigenous peoples as living firmly in the present. In their continuing struggle to protect their land and culture, the Uru-eu-wau-wau people of the Amazon may be vulnerable, but they aren’t helpless. They’re organized, have access to technology, and know exactly how they want to represent themselves—armed with bows and arrows and defending what’s theirs in beautiful, thrilling footage. In this way, even as The Territory ultimately touches on issues that have affected all of Brazil, namely the destructive effects of Jair Bolsonaro’s presidency, it still feels like a documentary co-authored by these indigenous people themselves.

As the face of kung fu, a sports documentary on Bruce Lee is practically expected for ESPN’s 30 for 30 series. So many of them have been produced since the actor’s death in 1973. However, in Be Water, director Bao Nguyen captures the icon not through his works, but through his philosophy. Starting with his first screen test, the camera rarely strays from him, keeping us hooked on his magnetic presence even during voice-overs of interviews from his friends and family. This, mixed with readings of letters he’s written, reveals a man whose self-discipline and attitude power through obstacles against him. The film only diverts its attention to identifying those obstacles, but it only better proves the actor’s strength. In martial arts and in film, Be Water respects Lee as a force of nature– the rare force that broke barriers and bridged the gap between East and West.

Like many American narratives, the history of space exploration is rife with long-buried secrets that are finally coming to the surface. The Space Race is an attempt to collect those secrets and weave a fresh new history that finally celebrates the heroes we should’ve learned about years ago. There are interviews with the likes of space pioneer Ed Dwight (who is responsible for unforgettable lines like “I’m not part of history, but a mystery” and “I had the capability, but not the opportunity) and the first Black man to fly into space, Guion Bluford, as well as surprising information about confidential test pilots, political involvement, and the undeniable influence of Afrofuturistic art and media in the field.

But education aside, what gives the documentary an edge is that it’s not afraid to question and at times attack NASA and the government for their racist past. We see celebrated astronaut Victor Glover reconcile his loyalty to his nation with his anger over the murder of George Floyd, for instance. At the same time, others like Dwight wanted to “just talk about space, not the struggle” but were tokenized both by the government and the opposition for their gains. Despite its compact run time, The Space Race covers all these nuances and more to provide a richly detailed and lovingly told new history of space exploration in America.

Too Funny to Fail isn’t just a documentary about funny people. It’s a documentary that’s hilarious in its own right. Director Josh Greenbaum assembles the comedic powerhouse behind the short-lived Dana Carvey Show and has them recall the idiosyncratic, subversive skits they did on the show. They are, of course, naturally funny, but it’s the questions Greenbaum asks them off-cam, the clips he shows, and the titles he picks for them (Bill Hader, as a fan who used to watch the show in lieu of going to classes, is stuck with “once skipped school”) that gives the documentary its own comedic signature. The spectacular failure of The Dana Carvey Show is also an inspirational story of sorts, given the astronomical success its staff and cast have and are continuing to enjoy since its cancellation.

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.

As a result of the miraculous success of the famed Tham Luang cave rescue, which saw the return of 12 kids trapped in a cave for more than 15 days, you’ll find no shortage of documentaries about the mission. Some take the point of view of the children, even others the locals and loved ones. But National Geographic’s The Rescue largely focuses on the volunteer rescuers, all of whom were foreigners who flew from different parts of the globe to risk their lives for the young victims. The film dives into their personal lives and their psyches, even going so far as their childhood to explain the motivations behind the heroic decisions they made at that moment. In less deft hands, The Rescue might seem like yet another White Savior Complex story, but directors Jimmy Chin and Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi (the same creative couple behind the Oscar-winning doc Free Solo) prove that the divers’ expertise, skill, and personal stakes make for a story worth telling.

While most media outlets would rather talk about Taylor Swift’s love life and never-ending feuds, the fact remains that Swift is a dedicated artist. She’s a prolific songstress and an astute writer, and regardless of what you think of her, it’s always a treat to see someone with that much passion and talent delve deep into their craft. 

This is precisely what she does in Folklore. Between cozy conversations with co-producers and rustic live sessions, Swift lets her guard down to reveal how she works on each song, from the backstory to the melody. The result is a mesmerizing documentary about how Swift spent the secluded year of 2020 working on a record that would go on to win Album of the Year at the Grammys. 

Contrary to the headline displayed on this film’s poster, Disney’s The Beach Boys isn’t a definitive guide to the band. Instead, it plays like a “greatest hits” album that goes through their famous ups and downs. Their steady rise among American teens and leader Brian Wilson’s pop music innovations are covered, as are the more dour moments of their career, like the relentless abuse they got from their manager (the Wilsons’ father Murry) and the disagreements between Brian and his cousin and co-writer Mike Love. But for better or worse, the documentary doesn’t go into too much detail about these high-profile feuds, focusing instead on the joy and brilliance of their era-defining music, which tends to get buried beneath all the drama anyway. Because of this sunny approach, the film sometimes fails to match the band’s complexity. But there’s no denying that it’s just as enjoyable to watch as it is to listen to The Beach Boys’ music.

The Beatles ‘64 zeroes in on a precise moment in The Beatles timeline: their American debut, which propelled them from English boyband to Global sensation. Since their appearance in The Ed Sullivan Show in 1964, they’ve been on a nonstop upward trajectory to success. The documentary, co-produced by Martin Scorsese, explores why that is by expanding their two-week trip in the US into food for thought: why did they blow up the way they did? Was it because the country was in shambles and needed an escape? Was it because developments in tech and media unwittingly jumpstarted the fandom/parasocial craze? The documentary considers all this by having historians, experts, music icons, and even fans weigh in. In that sense, it can be all over the place, but the music and the pristine, restored clips of interviews with the Beatles and their performances onstage make it a worthwhile watch.