Disney+ Suggestions - Highly-Rated Movies & Shows on Disney+
La Chimera is often meandering. Scenes flitter about and move at different paces, resembling dreams more than they do reality, but they’re hardly trivial. Just the opposite, they enchant you with their beauty and confront you with deep, existential questions that haunt you long after the film’s run. You won’t find obvious answers here though, and you might even leave more perplexed than when you began. But that is the beauty of a film like La Chimera, it cracks you open to different realms and possibilities.
Deli Boys moves fast. It starts out as a simple succession story, then it quickly evolves into a crime caper that’s also, subtly, a commentary on being brown and Muslim in America. It’s impressive enough in those respects, but above all else, Deli Boys is a well-written comedy. The fast pace helps, but it’s the characters’ ability to effortlessly quip and riff off one another that makes it highly watchable, if not downright addictive. The only downside to the show’s easygoing humor and cool capers is that the characters, though likable, lack real depth. But that’s easy enough to mine if the show is (hopefully) given a shot at another season.
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.
Based on the classic teen series by R. L. Stine, the latest adaptation of Goosebumps is now a modern-day TV series. However, it’s not an anthology like the show in the 90s, it’s a series set in one town, focused on a group of teenagers, dealing with various horror elements from the books. Each episode gets its title, as well as their supernatural MacGuffin, from the corresponding novellas, though with a modern twist, with some online trolling and posted pranks. Fans of the original 90s may find this format disappointing, but it’s still a fun and spooky ride, especially for younger viewers new to Goosebumps.
Isle of Dogs has all the hallmarks of a Wes Anderson picture—it’s stylish, otherworldly, and deadpan hilarious. But the film is also uniquely its own thing, a stop-motion animation deeply and gorgeously immersed in Japanese history and lore. Instead of merely relegating culture in the background for mere aesthetic purposes (as Anderson has done in the past with The Darjeeling Limited), culture here plays a vital role in the adventure and overall plot of the film. It’s up to the viewer to decide whether Isle of Dogs is a case of appropriation or appreciation, but what can’t be denied is that this is a movie with a strong and unforgettable bite to it.
From Sweet Tooth to The Last of Us, there’s no shortage nowadays of post-pandemic shows speculating about a virus-stricken and human-deficient world. But back in 2015, those were few and far between, making The Last Man on Earth a uniquely weird dramedy that was as existential as it was entertaining.
But even as its novelty wore off over the years, The Last Man on Earth stands the test of time thanks to its deft balance of sadness and silliness. You could be laughing about a poop joke one moment and ruminating about the purpose of life the next—and it never feels jarring. The ensemble cast is also a notable strength of the show, with each cast member becoming more sympathetic and fleshed out every season. Even the latest additions to the crew, like Kristen Wiig’s Pamela, become fast favorites.
If you’re looking for quick laughs, you can put this show on, but expect some heartache in between as well.
Stitching the Cinderella plot with the French Renaissance and modern day sensibilities, Ever After isn’t exactly committed to historical accuracy or faithfulness to the narrative written down by Charles Perrault and the Brothers Grimm. That being said, it’s totally charming. Drew Barrymore’s Cinderella variant Danielle de Barbarac holds kindness for people instead of animals, and it’s her care towards the people of her household and the respect towards their labor that wins the prince over. Her antagonists too have a touch of modernity with them, with the Evil Stepmother more passive-aggressive than cartoonishly evil. This, accompanied with the lush costumes and sets, made Ever After a Cinderella story to remember.
Will Trent is a crime procedural that tackles a new mystery every few episodes. It doesn’t differ from other detective shows in that way, but what makes Will Trent interesting is that the intrigue of each case never takes away from the intrigue of the personal lives of the lead characters.
Will Trent, in particular, remains the biggest mystery in the series. Much like Sherlock Holmes or Monk before him, he’s troubled but kindhearted, gifted but hated by all. He’s one of the most awkward detectives you’ll meet, but what he lacks in social graces he more than makes up for in outstanding smarts. Unraveling Trent, his colleagues, and his subjects is a fun ride, one that makes the 40 minutes or so of watching well worth it.
Martin Freeman stars opposite the ever-reliable Daisy Haggard (Back to Life) as two parents who are overwhelmed by their two kids. “I would die for those kids but often, I also want to kill them,” his character jokes.
Breeders might be a comedy but it’s a relatable portrayal of how consuming raising kids can get. The days of serene vacations in Spain are long gone, replaced with uncontrollable rage and lack of sleep.
White creators handling African stories rarely turn out well, so thankfully, Disney decided to collaborate with pan-African Kugali Studio for their newest series Iwájú. This collaboration, instead of working alone, proves to be fruitful, as Iwájú dreams up of a futuristic world that is distinctly Nigerian, that still captures the real inequalities but also unique art styles and some genuine heart through its relatable characters. The series still does go through its recycled formula, with the familiar precocious pre-teen protagonist and their cute animal sidekick, but to Disney’s credit, it’s great to see them collaborate with, rather than shut down, smaller international studios, even ones that once wanted to “kick Disney’s arse” (Kugali’s words, not mine).
Based on the rumors, When Frank Met Carlitos is a fun reimagination of how the meeting between Carlos Gardel and Frank Sinatra went. While the meeting is entirely fictional, it’s an interesting what-if scenario, as the real-life Sinatra went into music because of American singer Bing Crosby, who in turn, was notably inspired by Gardel, the Il Muto. Split between their languages, Gardel and Sinatra still have a shared understanding, piecing together each other’s thoughts through shared loan words, and imparting knowledge through dramatic song. As the fictionalized versions of the best singers from the American continent interact, the TV special seems like a send-off from a wiser generation to their younger counterparts.
Much sweeter and much more bittersweet than one might expect, World’s Best does some deceptively clever things with its major themes of math and rap. Somehow, this pre-teen coming-of-age story finds a way to play with preconceived notions of equations always resulting in certain answers, and of modern hip hop being all about swagger and status. Unsurprisingly (or maybe disappointingly for some), the film ultimately touches on grief and loss, which an increasing number of Disney films have been doing as of late. But World’s Best keeps itself fresh through its sincere, energetic tone, colorful production design, and spirited performances by Utkarsh Ambudkar and the young Manny Magnus. So even when the rapping gets corny (which it does more often than it should), the spirit behind it is so endearing that it’s hard to be mad.
Rivals is a heady dose of 1980s maximalism set against the backdrop of a seemingly quiet British countryside. The result is intoxicating: bored wives and polite language conceal carnal desires and immoral methods to reach the top. There’s a lot of sex, but it’s not necessarily sexy. It’s more campy than steamy, even though some characters do forge relationships that turn out to be romantic and true. There’s a lot of shouting and slapstick humor, as well as messages advocating sexual empowerment, which went against the conservatism that was rampant in the ‘80s. It’s reminiscent of Netflix’s Sex Education in that way, even and especially in terms of its bingeability (I finished the first season in one sitting). There’s a lot to like, after all. For every David Tennant and Aidan Turner screaming their heads off, there are more subtle performances from the likes of Nafessa Williams, Bella Maclean, Claire Rushbrook, Danny Dyer, and the ever-lovely Katherine Parkinson.
Created by Peaky Blinders showrunner Steven Knight, A Thousand Blows zooms in on the London Victorian underworld and follows three outsiders trying to uplift themselves in different, often illegal ways. There’s Mary Carr (Erin Rachael Doherty), an ambitious pickpocket who heads an all-female crime syndicate; Sugar Goodson (Stephen Graham), a merchant by day and bare-knuckle boxing champion by night; and London newcomer Hezekiah Moscow (Malachi Kirby), a Jamaican lion tamer who gets roped into Mary and Sugar’s complicated world. The conflicts the show takes onshow’s conflicts are as old as time: wealth inequality, gender divide, and racial discrimination. But Knight gives them a modern refresh so, coupled with razor-sharp dialogue, impressive choreography, gorgeous 1880s details, and stellar performances (particularly from Kirby), the show is invigorating to watch. Peaky Blinders fans who are missing the show will especially appreciate its grit and dark humor.
Deli Boys moves fast. It starts out as a simple succession story, then it quickly evolves into a crime caper that’s also, subtly, a commentary on being brown and Muslim in America. It’s impressive enough in those respects, but above all else, Deli Boys is a well-written comedy. The fast pace helps, but it’s the characters’ ability to effortlessly quip and riff off one another that makes it highly watchable, if not downright addictive. The only downside to the show’s easygoing humor and cool capers is that the characters, though likable, lack real depth. But that’s easy enough to mine if the show is (hopefully) given a shot at another season.
Let’s get this out of the way: Love Story isn’t an accurate retelling of the marriage between John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bassette, just ask their living relatives about it. However, historical accuracy is not really the point. Much like the other franchises under American Story, Love Story feels more like a portrait of what America used to be– this time, through the closest thing the United States had to a royal marriage. Indulging in the 90s-00s nostalgia, this whirlwind romance takes on familiar themes of celebrity and public scrutiny with all the high-fashion glamor, a semblance of curated taste, and none of today’s social media clout chasing. It helps that Sarah Pidgeon and Paul Anthony Kelly look so good together, with their classic visages and old-school vibes. Love Story doesn’t present something new or true, but the show is nonetheless very watchable.
Will Trent is a crime procedural that tackles a new mystery every few episodes. It doesn’t differ from other detective shows in that way, but what makes Will Trent interesting is that the intrigue of each case never takes away from the intrigue of the personal lives of the lead characters.
Will Trent, in particular, remains the biggest mystery in the series. Much like Sherlock Holmes or Monk before him, he’s troubled but kindhearted, gifted but hated by all. He’s one of the most awkward detectives you’ll meet, but what he lacks in social graces he more than makes up for in outstanding smarts. Unraveling Trent, his colleagues, and his subjects is a fun ride, one that makes the 40 minutes or so of watching well worth it.
Tell Me Lies is a soapy college drama, but it’s a soapy college drama done right. It’s steamy and realistic (apart from the fact that no one seems to really be studying), capturing that moment in your life when you start freely exploring your identity and sexuality. As in most melodramas, it’s the mess and the titular lies that make the series exciting to watch, but it ultimately doesn’t hold enough substance to keep you engaged beyond that. It’s spicy candy—hot and exciting when consumed, but it’s neither nourishing nor filling. No harm in taking a bite though.
Deli Boys moves fast. It starts out as a simple succession story, then it quickly evolves into a crime caper that’s also, subtly, a commentary on being brown and Muslim in America. It’s impressive enough in those respects, but above all else, Deli Boys is a well-written comedy. The fast pace helps, but it’s the characters’ ability to effortlessly quip and riff off one another that makes it highly watchable, if not downright addictive. The only downside to the show’s easygoing humor and cool capers is that the characters, though likable, lack real depth. But that’s easy enough to mine if the show is (hopefully) given a shot at another season.
Isle of Dogs has all the hallmarks of a Wes Anderson picture—it’s stylish, otherworldly, and deadpan hilarious. But the film is also uniquely its own thing, a stop-motion animation deeply and gorgeously immersed in Japanese history and lore. Instead of merely relegating culture in the background for mere aesthetic purposes (as Anderson has done in the past with The Darjeeling Limited), culture here plays a vital role in the adventure and overall plot of the film. It’s up to the viewer to decide whether Isle of Dogs is a case of appropriation or appreciation, but what can’t be denied is that this is a movie with a strong and unforgettable bite to it.
From Sweet Tooth to The Last of Us, there’s no shortage nowadays of post-pandemic shows speculating about a virus-stricken and human-deficient world. But back in 2015, those were few and far between, making The Last Man on Earth a uniquely weird dramedy that was as existential as it was entertaining.
But even as its novelty wore off over the years, The Last Man on Earth stands the test of time thanks to its deft balance of sadness and silliness. You could be laughing about a poop joke one moment and ruminating about the purpose of life the next—and it never feels jarring. The ensemble cast is also a notable strength of the show, with each cast member becoming more sympathetic and fleshed out every season. Even the latest additions to the crew, like Kristen Wiig’s Pamela, become fast favorites.
If you’re looking for quick laughs, you can put this show on, but expect some heartache in between as well.
Will Trent is a crime procedural that tackles a new mystery every few episodes. It doesn’t differ from other detective shows in that way, but what makes Will Trent interesting is that the intrigue of each case never takes away from the intrigue of the personal lives of the lead characters.
Will Trent, in particular, remains the biggest mystery in the series. Much like Sherlock Holmes or Monk before him, he’s troubled but kindhearted, gifted but hated by all. He’s one of the most awkward detectives you’ll meet, but what he lacks in social graces he more than makes up for in outstanding smarts. Unraveling Trent, his colleagues, and his subjects is a fun ride, one that makes the 40 minutes or so of watching well worth it.
Martin Freeman stars opposite the ever-reliable Daisy Haggard (Back to Life) as two parents who are overwhelmed by their two kids. “I would die for those kids but often, I also want to kill them,” his character jokes.
Breeders might be a comedy but it’s a relatable portrayal of how consuming raising kids can get. The days of serene vacations in Spain are long gone, replaced with uncontrollable rage and lack of sleep.
When teens are superheroes, it can be tough to balance the regular teen drama along with saving the city (or maybe the world), but it’s a fairly common premise for a teen show. Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir may take some familiar super teen tropes, like the secret identities, awesome suit-up moments, and cool powers, but unlike most shows, the enemies they fight are teens just like them, trying to deal with regular teen problems… except they’ve been given power and bad influence from Hawk Moth, an overdramatic supervillain that somehow keeps up-to-date to the latest drama in Marinette and Adrien’s Parisian high school. Playing with new powers and switching up the tropes, Miraculous is a fun gem of a kid’s show, one that pays genuine attention to kid’s issues, even if they solve it with the most ludicrous of powers and catchiest of songs.
No highly-rated titles found for this combination.
La Chimera is often meandering. Scenes flitter about and move at different paces, resembling dreams more than they do reality, but they’re hardly trivial. Just the opposite, they enchant you with their beauty and confront you with deep, existential questions that haunt you long after the film’s run. You won’t find obvious answers here though, and you might even leave more perplexed than when you began. But that is the beauty of a film like La Chimera, it cracks you open to different realms and possibilities.
More a showcase of various styles of animation than an expansion of Star Wars lore (and all the better for it), Visions finds some of the freshest expression for these tired tropes—rendered in what are easily the best visuals this franchise has ever seen. Across the 18 episodes of its first two seasons, the series communicates the mystical nature of this universe with much more ease than the live-action films do. And even as Visions begins to repeat some of the exact same ideas and story structures in multiple episodes, the repetition also begins to feel like the reinforcement of a universal narrative throughout time and space: there will always be light that will counter the darkness, often coming from the bonds between family and friends.
When teens are superheroes, it can be tough to balance the regular teen drama along with saving the city (or maybe the world), but it’s a fairly common premise for a teen show. Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir may take some familiar super teen tropes, like the secret identities, awesome suit-up moments, and cool powers, but unlike most shows, the enemies they fight are teens just like them, trying to deal with regular teen problems… except they’ve been given power and bad influence from Hawk Moth, an overdramatic supervillain that somehow keeps up-to-date to the latest drama in Marinette and Adrien’s Parisian high school. Playing with new powers and switching up the tropes, Miraculous is a fun gem of a kid’s show, one that pays genuine attention to kid’s issues, even if they solve it with the most ludicrous of powers and catchiest of songs.
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.
If Steven Spielberg had just decided to do a straightforward cover version of West Side Story, it still would have been a wonder of music, movement, and color. But more than the lush camerawork and impassioned performances from Rachel Zegler, Mike Faist, and Oscar winner Ariana DeBose, this adaptation is most memorable for its renewed focus on the senselessness of its central turf war. Here, New York City exercises absolute power over the Jets and the Sharks, rendering all this gang violence as a futile attempt to hold on to outdated values in the face of economic desolation. Spielberg might not be able to do much about the story’s weaker Romeo and Juliet-inspired parts, but he still finds a way to let this often ridiculed tragic romance serve a greater purpose.
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.
Deli Boys moves fast. It starts out as a simple succession story, then it quickly evolves into a crime caper that’s also, subtly, a commentary on being brown and Muslim in America. It’s impressive enough in those respects, but above all else, Deli Boys is a well-written comedy. The fast pace helps, but it’s the characters’ ability to effortlessly quip and riff off one another that makes it highly watchable, if not downright addictive. The only downside to the show’s easygoing humor and cool capers is that the characters, though likable, lack real depth. But that’s easy enough to mine if the show is (hopefully) given a shot at another season.
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.
More a showcase of various styles of animation than an expansion of Star Wars lore (and all the better for it), Visions finds some of the freshest expression for these tired tropes—rendered in what are easily the best visuals this franchise has ever seen. Across the 18 episodes of its first two seasons, the series communicates the mystical nature of this universe with much more ease than the live-action films do. And even as Visions begins to repeat some of the exact same ideas and story structures in multiple episodes, the repetition also begins to feel like the reinforcement of a universal narrative throughout time and space: there will always be light that will counter the darkness, often coming from the bonds between family and friends.
There’s no room for glamour in this heartwrenching yet inspiring documentary of first-hand accounts from mothers who went above and beyond for their children. These days it is hard to escape fancy editing, theatrical reenactments, and law enforcement’s clinical recounts in true crime productions, but these four stories inject much-needed empathy for victims. In each episode, the mothers’ fight for justice and their children’s safety illuminates the strength of a community, the goodwill of strangers, and the perseverance of all (with or without the help of the law). Straightforward and respectful, these first-hand accounts will appeal to viewers wanting humane narratives and a few happy endings.
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.
Let’s get this out of the way: Love Story isn’t an accurate retelling of the marriage between John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bassette, just ask their living relatives about it. However, historical accuracy is not really the point. Much like the other franchises under American Story, Love Story feels more like a portrait of what America used to be– this time, through the closest thing the United States had to a royal marriage. Indulging in the 90s-00s nostalgia, this whirlwind romance takes on familiar themes of celebrity and public scrutiny with all the high-fashion glamor, a semblance of curated taste, and none of today’s social media clout chasing. It helps that Sarah Pidgeon and Paul Anthony Kelly look so good together, with their classic visages and old-school vibes. Love Story doesn’t present something new or true, but the show is nonetheless very watchable.
Young Woman and the Sea is a neatly told, inspiring story about a woman who went against the tide to cement her legacy as one of the most fearless athletes to exist. The movie is polished and nicely detailed, anchored by winning performances and a triumphantly dramatic script—basically everything you’d expect from a Disney movie. And like many Disney movies, Young Woman and the Sea can sometimes be too on-the-nose about its advocacies, but it’s hard to deny its charm. The movie is a treat to watch, and an especially nice segue into the upcoming Olympics.
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.
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.
No highly-rated titles found for this combination.
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.
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.