100 Inspirational Documentaries to Watch Now

Angle is very open about his ups and downs in this documentary. It takes us through the biggest chapters of his life as a freestyle wrestler: from his intense “exhaust training” regimen that would make you guilty about your workouts; to the infamous tournament where he would break his neck and go on to win an olympic gold medal anyway; to making the transition to pro wrestling where his intensity would reward him—as well as cost him—the prime of his career. It’s an inspiring, well-produced sports documentary, and a lot of it can be attributed to Angle’s detailed memory and willingness to tackle stories head on.

For kids and kids-at-heart who find Jim Henson’s technical mastery of puppets riveting, this documentary on the classic and still-contemporary Sesame Street provides a ton of behind-the-scenes footage that’s endlessly fun to watch. Street Gang rebuts any arguments that could be made about children’s TV being low-effort—showing just how much craft is needed in a show like this. But more importantly, the film’s first act illustrates the risky process of building Sesame Street from the ground-up, specifically as programming for inner-city Black children who weren’t getting the education they deserved. It’s nothing short of an inspiration to see this ragtag group of creatives and communication experts—none of whom wanted to take sole credit—coming together like a superhero team to create one of the most iconic and enduring TV shows in American history.

Albert Maysles’ penultimate film celebrates fashion icon Iris Apfel, who charms everyone with her quick wit, no-nonsense attitude, and love for the craft. There’s something brilliant in the way the movie starts not by rehashing facts about her, but with Apfel herself going through the process of choosing what to wear. She’s doesn’t just pick clothes; there’s a kind of careful consideration made with each item she chooses, that she remembers every detail about (from where she got them, to the culture and history behind them), and that she intentionally picks in the name of joy. While the documentary doesn’t dive too deep into Apfel’s life, the woman is just undeniably cool. Simply going through her processes and listening to her talk is already an inspiration.

For Love & Life could have easily been a generic documentary about ALS, but Wallach and Abrevaya elevate the film with their confidence and charm. With help from friend and director Christopher Burke, they manage to make something innately dreadful not just watchable, but engaging and uplifting as well. There’s also something to be said about how they offset with science and politics so that the film is an anti-sob story of sorts, filled as it is with so much research, action, hope, and grit. This isn’t to say that it doesn’t get misty-eyed (in fact, I think it could’ve eased up on the use of inspirational pop songs), but it is expertly balanced in a way that’s sure to draw in more viewers and, hopefully, advocates for the cause.

Though it doesn’t delve too deeply into any pressing issues in baseball or into its protagonist’s Taiwanese roots, Late Life: The Chien-Ming Wang Story still makes for interesting viewing, mostly for its extremely specific discussions on baseball. Part sports documentary and part study on physical therapy, the film rejects any narratives about innate talent and greatness and aims to depict most great players as they really are: athletes who have had to train hard and maintain their progress through sheer force of will. And at the center is Chien-Ming Wang himself, a gentle and humble giant who makes for an unlikely but refreshing sports celebrity.

Those who grew up watching baseball legend Reggie Jackson will know that his was a name you read all over the news. One of America’s first athlete superstars, Jackson had a reputation that preceded him—he was a celebrity you’d just as soon find in Studio 54 than in the gym, wearing diamond bracelets more than baseball mittens. But in his self-titled documentary Reggie, he finally tells his story in his own words. 

Reggie tracks his career in the context of the constant racism he and his fellow Black players in the league faced for many years. He explains why building the tough persona the media condemned him for years was necessary. It’s as autobiographical as it is historical, with Jackson often discussing how race informed every part of the sport, whether he wanted it to or not. The documentary is fascinating and informative, and it serves as an essential reminder of the inequality and double standards POC players faced and continue to face today.

Stan Lee, the documentary, is a charming introduction to the iconic creator. He enthusiastically narrates his journey into comics – from lowly intern to famous publisher – giving a seemingly modest account of events. With his voice making most of the narrative, Lee’s voice reveals his creative process and mindset, detailing the day-to-day writing process and the Marvel method. However, the documentary isn’t Lee’s voice alone. Director David Gelb brings a charming approach to this documentary, as seen in his previous work, that helps turn his subject palatable, despite the disagreement displayed by other people. Overall, the film is an okay introduction, though the full story behind Lee’s most contentious events, deserves a documentary of its own.

Call Me Kate isn’t as much of a revelation as the star it’s portraying, but of course, it’s still lovely to talk about the incredible Katharine Hepburn. Revealing new footage from one of Hepburn’s close friends, and contextualized with interviews with some of the few remaining people that were close with her, the documentary goes through her life, with a focus more on what she felt about it. Certain letters are read by a voice impressionist, which creates a bit of an uncanny valley, and the way the footage was arranged and organized can be strange. However, Call Me Kate is still able to capture what makes Katharine Hepburn so captivating.

To call Going to Mars a somewhat shapeless documentary isn’t a criticism. If anything, its flexibility of structure feels entirely appropriate for the woman at its center, who doesn’t necessarily defy categorization so much as she remains on the pulse of history as it continues to shift in unexpected ways. Nikki Giovanni is a person who knows who she is and knows that she stands for the essential dignity of Black people, and it’s inspiring to see how she not only remains hopeful and articulate through every critical moment, but that she insists on being ambitious for what Black people deserve to achieve in the future. As her son tells her at a speaking engagement, Giovanni doesn’t just dream of going to space; she feels that it is her people’s imperative to be there.

Directors Joe Brewster and Michèle Stephenson tell her (still ongoing) life story in a strikingly impressionistic way—cleverly playing with archival footage, but more importantly having Giovanni’s candid words blending seamlessly into her poetry. This is a credit to how connected to the milieu Giovanni’s work actually is, of course, but the film does a very good job defining her as someone who can bring beauty and grace out of every experience.

The documentary sees WWE Superstar Cody Rhodes as a wandering journeyman, a prodigal son returning home. Cody—sharply dressed and occupying the center of a fancy studio hall—offers detailed insight into his bond with his late father and legendary wrestler Dusty Rhodes, various gimmicks and ventures that steadily refined his skills, and his ultimate goal to finish his father’s story and win the elusive WWE Championship. WWE slaughters a fattened calf for Cody, showing videos and photos of every major promotion he worked for outside the company, including their biggest competitor AEW. It’s a polished, surprisingly comprehensive film, that like many WWE documentaries, drags a bit too long and admits WWE was the bad guy in the story.