Movies to Watch With Social & Cultural Documentaries

John Candy: I Like Me takes a somewhat standard approach in remembering the titular comedian. The film pulls out old footage, brings together his loved ones, and they sing praises of what a good guy he was. Given his profession, there were also certain moments where the film explains some jokes, which kills some of the humor. However, it’s a testament to Candy that it doesn’t come across as totally boring, even for non-comedy buffs. Like looking through old photo albums, and rewatching an actor’s old work, John Candy: I Like Me genuinely likes the guy, celebrating the gentle soul and consummate performer that helped define his generation’s comedy.

In the first twenty minutes, The Remarkable Life of Ibelin seemed to be quite unremarkable, with the usual way a biographical documentary would go, that is, loved ones waxing poetic about how great the dead person was in life. But the documentary takes this to introduce Ibelin the same way his parents discovered the online life Mats Steen lived. It’s a unique documentary, mixing in the usual home videos with the animated gameplay of the archived life Steen lived in Ibelin, but it’s grounded by, and somewhat co-created through the words Steen himself typed about his life as a disabled man, and the game history he shared with the community he formed online. The Remarkable Life of Ibelin ends up being quite a remarkable depiction of living online, that feels much more honest, human, and creative than the condescending or cautious narratives we’ve previously heard about the online world.

It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley depicts the life of a musician whose time was cut too short. It’s a tale you might have heard before. He fell in love with the guitar at a young age, busked in small cafes and downtown bars, and won over fans and record labels to create one excellent album, but died just before stardom. This documentary depicts this somewhat conventionally. That being said, while it lacks in original approach, it captures the emotions well, understanding what moved Buckley to his craft. Tackling the loss of his father, music as his refuge, and his conflicted thoughts about fame, It’s Never Over unpacks the artist in a deeply personal way.

Is there anything more lovely than hearing Martin Scorsese talk about cinema? Maybe it’s just the film nerds in us– we are, after all, always on the hunt for A Good Movie to Watch– but it’s just wonderful to hear Scorsese talk about movies, especially from directors he loves and are inspired by. Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger is about the influence of The Archers, and while it’s mostly a straightforward documentary, director David Hinton makes it something like a cohesive film course on the directors, with Scorsese as lecturer. Oftentimes letting the directors’ shots and music speak for themselves, with Scorsese adding needed context, it won’t be a surprise that Made In England would be a treat for film nerds, but it also would be a great introduction for casual viewers, or viewers that want to start watching classic films, like those of The Archers.

For the longest time, television seemed to be the antithesis to reading– part of that belief still lingers to this day. However, just before the turn of the millennium, there was a show that didn’t find itself opposite to it, instead, it wanted to be its ally. That show was Reading Rainbow. Butterfly in the Sky tells its story. It’s quite nostalgic, as the show’s former cast and crew recall what it was like, and the way the film structured its sequences captures not just the show itself, but the cultural weight it represented, as it encouraged reading not just as a skill you need to learn, but as a way to interact with the wider world around us, which is worth protecting. Butterfly in the Sky believes in stories, and believes in the story that it wants to tell about Reading Rainbow.

Continuing her fight to tell the world the truth about her sexual assault case, journalist Shiori Ito released Black Box Diaries. Like her book, it’s a powerful documentary. Filmed with actual CCTV evidence, with some witness accounts, and with recordings she made while investigating her case, Ito’s first foray into film is personal, vulnerable, and intimate, going through the events as it naturally unfolds. While it is depressing to witness the ways investigators, lawyers, politicians and other people have failed her, Black Box Diaries immediately reveals Ito’s resolve for the truth, and how taxing the toll was for survivors that chose to take the same path.

We Are the World is a charity single created for African famine relief. It was a smash success– it inspired plenty of other charity singles and already has a TV documentary about it. But The Greatest Night in Pop reveals new behind-the-scenes footage with a home video flair, intercut with interviews from those who were in the booth on that fateful day. The anecdotes about that night might have already been said elsewhere, but director Bao Nguyen manages to capture the energy in the room, peeking into the emotions of the various personalities that helped shape the song. It’s an intriguing, if straightforward documentary, and it’s certainly a treat watching the decade’s best voices collaborate to make this one track.

If you’re expecting a documentary about the particular U2 concert in Sarajevo, to focus exclusively on U2, you’re not really going to get it in Kiss the Future. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it’s probably the best approach for this particular documentary, as it focuses more on the way Sarajevans found solidarity with each other through the music U2 made in response to the Northern Ireland troubles, and thus, of course, the film needed to focus as well on the Sarajevans’ conflict. Director Nenad Cicin-Sain got key viewpoints on the Bosnian War in Sarajevo, such as Christiane Amanpour, who covered the war, and former President Bill Clinton, but Kiss the Future shines when we hear from the people on the ground, from the Sarajevans that gone through this harrowing time.

For people having difficulty bearing a child, artificial insemination is one way to go for parenthood, but going to sperm banks can be expensive, shrouded with too much anonymity, and have had many incidents of malpractice. Some people would rather take things into their own hands. Spermworld explores the journeys of three different internet sperm donors, who meet with hopeful parents. It can be awkward, even when the donors are fairly ordinary guys with fairly decent motives, but the way director Lance Oppenheim approaches the community is disarmingly human, acknowledging the strange quirks that come with the donation, but also the interesting parental desires human beings do have.

Biographical documentaries tend to depict exceptional people– people who are so great that everyone wants to know about them, and people who are so terrible that they serve as a warning. Great Photo, Lovely Life depicts a serial sexual abuser in photojournalist Amanda Mustard’s family, able to get away with nearly all his crimes each time he skips over state lines. It’s not an easy film. It’s deeply uncomfortable. There are certain interviews that will trigger anger, despair, and bewilderment over how someone so evil can remain out of bars all his life. Great Photo, Lovely Life doesn’t provide any easy, comforting sequence as a balm to sexual abuse survivors around the world, but it’s an urgent reminder of the consequences of maintaining silence.

Nakedness has been demonized or at least, has been considered inappropriate outside of certain situations. One such situation is the sauna, as the steam and high heat is considered therapeutic, especially in colder regions. In her directorial debut, Anna Hints documents the Estonian smoke sauna, not just as a cultural tradition, but as a sanctuary for women to bare their bodies and their troubles. The women are, of course, naked, but the sauna’s smoke and darkness obscures and keeps identities hidden, focusing on their stories and allowing a glimpse of women’s bodies at their most natural, without the sexualization often placed with the male gaze. Smoke Sauna Sisterhood is a refreshing take, one where plenty of women can finally see themselves in.

Given a budget from Netflix to make a documentary on Korean film, some would have chosen instead to make one for big Korean filmmaking personalities like Academy Award winner Bong Joon-ho, who is featured here. However, director Lee Hyuk-rae instead creates Yellow Door, a love letter to the ‘90s film club that inspired a generation. The warm way each member tries to remember the club made decades ago, and the handy, almost cheeky, animations makes it feel like we’re there in the club with them, just listening to friends reminisce about the way they obsessed about film, even if it wasn’t the major they were studying in. It’s so nostalgic and sentimental, and in shifting its focus, it celebrates the lovely experience of finding a community of like-minded people that’s just obsessed with film as you are.

Teenagers forced to grow up quickly and spend their prime years wiling away at garment factories sounds like a grim reality, and it is, but in Youth (Spring), Chinese documentarist Wang Bing captures more than just the inherent tragedy of young labor. Here, they build friendships, find love, discover an affinity for their craft, stand up for themselves against exploitative bosses, and look for ways to have fun. Even if it’s just as simple as eating street food, spending the night at an internet cafe, or finding nice clothes, we’re with them in every way. Though it’s never explicitly political, the documentary makes you think about the conditions that put the kids there in the first place, such as our insatiable need for cheap and trendy clothes, governments turning a blind eye to child labor, and a skewed system that favors these above people’s—especially young people’s—well-being and welfare.

If you were on the Internet around 2015, you might be familiar with the viral phenomenon that is Wakaliwood, a “slum” neighborhood of Kampala, Uganda from where self-taught director Isaac Nabwana churns out bombastic DIY action comedies. Though they rack up online views in the millions, Isaac’s low-budget films weren’t money-makers due to a lack of proper distribution — something Alan Hofmanis, a Wakaliwood superfan and well-meaning New York-based publicist, wanted to help change.

Once Upon a Time chronicles the ups and somewhat perplexing downs of Isaac and Alan’s partnership, but their murky beef doesn’t detract too much from the documentary’s greatest strength, which is its showcasing of the scrappy spirit shared by Isaac and his volunteer collaborators: the actors who gleefully throw themselves in the mud for him, the “voice jokers” who provide riotous live narration at his screenings, and the props man who can jerry-rig just about anything his scripts call for. As Isaac points out, filmmaking is a business in the rest of the world — in Wakaliwood, it’s a passion. If Once Upon a Time does one thing, it’s faithfully transmit Isaac’s pure love for the craft — and, in doing so, reinvigorate us with the infectious joy that animates all of his movies.

We all learned that it’s good to have a free press, but most of us rarely consider why it’s good, why we should fight for it, and how to do so, in the first place. Bad Press tackles one such fight, specifically the battle for free press in the Muscogee Nation, and while it only tackles government control specifically, the documentary is a reminder of how fragile press freedom can be, broken in mere minutes, and how long and difficult it is to get it back. Has Bad Press figured out how to bring back free press? Perhaps, though the struggles were made much more murky with the way fake news outlets take advantage of the narrative, the way politicians keep their silence to maintain innocence, and the way the masses could have voted against it. But nonetheless, Bad Press was a necessary reminder of how much could have been lost.

Like people, places have things that change and things that remain the same. Most of us keep our thoughts about our hometowns to wistful conversations and the recesses of our memory, but Brazilian director Kleber Mendonça Filho instead captures Recife in Pictures of Ghosts. It’s a meandering tour, shifting from topic to topic, place to place with not that much structure, but through the journey, Kleber shares so much of himself (his home, his film sets, the theaters he formed his taste in), and Brazilian society, combining archived clips, personal memories, and even a ghostly mystery into one interesting map of Recife.

Sophie Compton and Reubyn Hamlyn’s British-American documentary about the harm of deepfakes won the SXSW Special Jury Award for its innovative storytelling and deservingly so. The two filmmakers use a clever and considerate way to let a young woman fictitiously named Taylor share her story of how she found deepfake pornography of herself online. With testaments, desktop form reconstructions, and lots of deepfakes, Compton and Hamlyn alert the audience to how terrifyingly widespread this kind of abuse is, and even more: how unregulated it is. Across the globe and 48 US states deepfake pornography is legal to make and spread, while victims remain helpless and unprotected. More than 90% of them are women. These chilling statistics are only part of the reason this documentary takes an activist stance and wants to raise awareness against the uncontrolled spread of face-swapping algorhythms amidst heated discussions around AI and ethics.

Silver Dollar Road isn’t a new story– it’s one of many that comes as a consequence of systematic Black land loss that continues to happen to this day. Director Raoul Peck tells it in a new way, completely focusing on the Reels family and hearing their story entirely, from the initial confusion to two of the homeowners’ incarceration, and remembering the good old days when they used to enjoy the land. The land dispute has escalated to years of harassment, imprisonment, and being taken advantage of from opportunistic legal counsel. While it could have benefitted from from detailed legal proceedings, Silver Dollar Road still powerfully depicts an intimate family story that outlines the systemic racism enabling Black land loss today.

If you’re hard working and well-situated enough, you get to chase and achieve and live out your dreams for your whole life. But if you’re lucky enough, you get to choose how you’ll leave. Swan Song is the journey Canadian ballet icon Karen Kain took to direct one last production of Swan Lake just before retiring as artistic director of National Ballet of Canada. Director Chelsea McMullan takes a fairly standard approach in her documentary, but to be fair, the subject matter is interesting by itself. The beauty of the ballet has long captivated cinema, so it’s unsurprising that the beauty is present, but McMullan effortlessly highlights the way Kain shaped her directorial style based on her own experience, with more humane and collaborative leadership that allowed the country’s troupe to shine.

Feminism has made plenty of strides in multiple areas, but even in the era of free love, talking about sex was difficult, and certain figures were dismissed just because of it. The Disappearance of Shere Hite reexamines the titular forgotten feminist figure that simply focused on the female orgasm, giving a second look at her immediate rise and fall in the American media, and the reasons for her leaving the country. With Dakota Johnson’s soft voice, an excellent selection of archival footage, and Hite’s deeply personal words, the film paints a portrait of a mild-mannered, self-possessed woman, but it also reveals the heartbreakingly repetitive vitriol that affects these open discussions today.

Partially based on the 860-page memoir, “A White House Diary”, and on the actual audio recordings Claudia Alta Taylor Johnson made during her time as first lady, The Lady Bird Diaries is an intimate reworking of a past we still know very little about. Told from the vantage point of First Lady Johnson candidly and in detail, the audio track shapes the whole film. All the archival footage is nicely complemented by hand-drawn animations to fit the missing images, but all the visuals are always in service of the narration. In this way, the documentary becomes a piece of history and an archive in itself, its illustrative functions – a crucial storytelling tool for posteriority.

If you want a powerful, masterful rendition of the ill-fated space mission, go and watch Apollo 13 (1995). But the documentary more than half a century after the mission, and two decades after the feature film, is not half bad. Of course, being a documentary, Apollo 13: Survival is much more factual, but the true tale still manages to hold the tension, the high stakes, and the emotional pull of the actual spaceflight, with excellent editing stitching the never-before-seen archival footage and key interviews into an exciting, compelling account. That being said, older viewers that already watched the Tom Hanks drama would likely not find anything new in this film, but Apollo 13: Survival would be a decent documentary to those who have never heard of the spacecraft.

The film unfolds in the rhythm of a cow’s life: birth, mating, feeding, milking, checkups. Soon, these events become regular occurrences. Instead of showcasing the more ‘spectacular’ parts of these animal lives in order to build a narrative that’s engaging in a more conventional sense, British director Andrea Arnold opts for intimacy through banal instances. Even if female cows are symbolic of labour (reared for milk, meat, and reproduction), the actual cows in the documentary are not actors in a traditional sense. Yet, Cow opens up the dialogue about the on-screen role of animals beyond the call for activism. In it, the protagonists dictate the camera movements and positions just as any other human subject would, but since Arnold is an intuitive and sharp filmmaker, she embraces the opportunity to challenge cinema’s status quo. A beautiful addition here is the presence of pop music needle drops, through which the film jolts us into being more attentive, helping us to experience everything we consume in everyday life unperturbed (milk, meat, or pop songs) anew.

Featuring cannily edited filmography excerpts and interviews with friends and ex-lovers of Rock Hudson — the Golden Age matinee idol who became the first major celebrity to die of AIDS — this documentary lifts the lid on the closeted gay star’s double life. Though its first third draws chiefly on biographers to paint a serviceable picture of the homophobic context Hudson rose to fame in, it’s in later interviews with members of his inner circle that the film comes to life. These contributors give us a more closely informed picture of Hudson, who seemed to accept Hollywood’s compromise: he could live out his professional dreams so long as he didn’t rock the boat.

Some aspects of the film’s approach do raise an eyebrow, such as a risqué conversation that seems to have been surreptitiously recorded. These inclusions lend the film a tabloid scoop’s salaciousness in places, but, thanks to its final third, it’s largely a touching testament to Hudson. As it movingly argues, however reluctant he was to disclose his diagnosis (and, in doing so, his sexuality), he played a pivotal role in changing the tide of public attitudes towards AIDS, and thus to fundraising efforts — making him an unwitting LGBTQ+ hero.

This sociologically revealing documentary follows the attempts of the largely “snow-white” staff of Amsterdam’s Stedelijk art museum to refresh the institution’s collection, just 4% of which was by women artists at the time of filming. The museum also featured exactly zero works by artists of color — another embarrassing truth that the Stedelijk’s staff, headed up by (white) museum director Rein Wolfs, work frantically to rectify by acquiring new works and “turning the mirror around” on the canon to contextualize whiteness as a distinct category of its own, rather than “the standard” (as the museum’s own Charl Landvreugd puts it). 

Though it features discussions on such worthy topics as artistic canons (who defines them?), linguistic nuances (should works with problematic titles be renamed?), and how to decide which art will be put into storage to make room for works that better reflect Amsterdam’s diverse population, this documentary is less interested in delving into the dark side of art history itself than the human behavior that arises when confronted with such uncomfortable truths. More than anything, what director Sarah Vos is perceptively spotlighting here is the intense discomfort and self-consciousness of the museum’s white staff when confronted with these historic issues — when, in a sense, the mirror is “turned around” on them.

The Beatles is the greatest musical band ever created, or at least the one with the most success, most influence, and most impact in the industry. So, what do they do when that same band breaks up? Fans that have followed their careers since are likely to know what has happened, but the perspective Man on the Run presents is fascinating. Focusing entirely on Paul McCartney, this documentary clears up some of the mystery and confusion that surrounded him, the weight of the expectations and the disappointment of the fans over the break-up. Of course, the archive alone would already please fans. Filmmaker Morgan Neville simply takes that footage to celebrate McCartney’s reinvention.

Bad Axe is an intimate documentary that follows the Sievs, a tight-knit family that runs a restaurant in the city of Bad Axe, Michigan. When the rise of COVID restrictions and racist hate groups put their business at risk, the Sievs try to hold on to each other while also carefully, in their own way, fighting back.

Mostly shot in the unforgettable year that is 2020, Bad Axe captures the fraught intensity and existential panic we all spiraled into during the global pandemic. It’s a charged film, but underneath all that buzz is a story about a family with its own tensions and histories and contradictions to deal with. Bad Axe is at once simple and complex, and like family, you just kind of love it, flaws and all.

Factually accurate yet still earnest in its mission, Eldorado: Everything the Nazis Hate delivers what it promises. While the title comes from the club’s name, the film is less about the club and more about the LGBTQ+ experience in Nazi Germany. To do this, the documentary focuses on Eldorado’s individual patrons. Directors Benjamin Cantu and Matt Lambert interweave their stories with historical context. For example, patrons like trans pioneers Charlotte Charlaque and Toni Ebel shed light on historical advancements for the LGBTQ+ community. While it can be overwhelming when Eldorado introduces its patrons and their lovers and their political rivals, the film stays focused on what it sets out to do. Eldorado remains an important reminder of the LGBTQ lives lost and the love that still remains.

Documentaries tend to depict real subjects through grounded, true-to-life ways, but the subject matter of Beyond the Light Barrier feels quite fantastic. Based on the autobiography of a South African meteorologist, this documentary isn’t about the science of weather watching – instead, it’s about Elizabeth Klarer and her strange account of her alien lover. Director Uga Carlini reimagines her encounters through 50’s style graphics, comic book-like illustrations, and John Kani’s serene narration. The film doesn’t make the conclusion whether aliens are true, as the film’s interviews vary between believers and skeptics. However, it’s an interesting look into these encounters, and how people use these unusual accounts to express certain fears and ideologies, especially in its last fifteen minutes.

In the Mexican film A Cop Movie, director Alonso Ruizpalacios mixes fact and fiction, documentary and narrative, to tell the tale of Teresa and Montoya, two police officers whose dreams are dashed by the corruption of their trade and who, eventually, find love and comfort in each other.

Ruizpalacios takes thrilling risks in structuring this genre-bending story—cutting stories into parts, jumping back and forth between the harrowingly real and captivatingly non-real. For all the experimental maneuvers he makes, however, the through-line is always Teresa and Montoya: particularly, their love for each other and for an institution that should have, in an ideal world, supported them and the people they vowed to protect.

To its credit, instead of merely humanizing the controversial police force, A Cop Movie adds some much-needed nuance to the big picture. At the end of the day, they’re no different than any other underpaid laborers working desperately to make end meets. A Cop Movie doesn’t gloss over the fact that the police, like so many other workers, are stuck in a rotten system that’s long overdue for a major overhauling.

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.

Retrograde takes place in early 2021 and captures the exact moment when the US troops exited Afghanistan, effectively leading to the Taliban takeover. With a fly-on-the-look approach, director Matthew Heineman reveals the cruel consequences of this sudden exit as the Afghan people (led by the charismatic General Sammi Sadat) scramble to defend themselves despite limited means and support. In this documentary, we’re privy to tactical military planning, civilian chaos, and even official Taliban gatherings. 

It’s heartbreaking and chilling, another reminder of the human cost of war and the terrible need for genuine peace. 

This insightful and uplifting documentary is about a growing movement within indigenous communities: obtaining food sovereignty by going back to pre-genocide ways of cultivating food.

The violent changes that have affected indigenous communities don’t impact just the people, but also the animals, the fish, and the land. All of these are now bearing the brunt of climate change.

Historically, North American governments forbid Native people from fishing and cultivating their foods as a way to repress them and create dependency. Gather is as much a recognition of the damage that was done as it is a forward-looking vision about how these communities are taking control of their faiths.

This groundbreaking documentary follows the USA Olympics sexual abuse case that made headlines in 2015. Through interviews with Olympians, their families, and investigative reporters, it’s also a documentary on the overall culture of abuse in gymnastics: sexual, physical, and emotional.

In one scene from the 1996 Olympics, gold medalist Kerri Strug has to run, vault, and land – all with a severe foot injury that was covered up by her coaches. She does this twice, limping between attempts and crawling off the mat on the second, crying. Meanwhile, her family, her coaches, the spectators – the World – is celebrating.

When she’s carried off, it’s Larry Nassar, the pedophile at the center of the documentary, who carries her.

Athlete A is groundbreaking exactly because it illustrates that the problem is not only with one doctor, or the 54 coaches who were also found guilty of sexual abuse, or the morally bankrupt leadership of USA Gymastics; it’s also about what went so wrong with society to see the abuse of young girls as cause for celebration.

With truffle being so expensive, you would think that the world would eventually figure out how to get this tasty fungi in a more efficient way. Yet, the finicky nature of truffle eludes scientific research, improved cultivation, and strategic supply logistics, only allowing access to a select group of senior men and their very good dogs. The Truffle Hunters depicts the precariousness of this industry, how the entire endeavor can be easily lost to time, climate, and secrecy, but through delving into their lives, through unobstrusively capturing their day-to-day lives in gorgeous, meticulously framed shots that quietly celebrates their charming personalities, The Truffle Hunters becomes a small glimpse into a life that’s lost to urban living, a life that, perhaps, might be worth returning to.

From its title and premise, the hope for this kind of documentary would be for it to show some respect for the people who died from the Floridian opioid epidemic. At the very least, the film should dissuade people from the crimes documented here, by emphasizing the consequences of these actions. American Pain does not do this. It’s interesting to view how quickly the business gets out of hand for these unethical entrepreneurs – director Darren Foster reveals each development with enough style and flourish to be entertaining – but the film is clearly more fascinated with how the twins got away with drug dealing for so long. It’s a fun watch… if you forget people died from the events of this film.

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.

In Motherwell, you either “get locked up or knocked up,” or so says Gemma, a teenager on the cusp of adulthood growing up in an old Scottish steel town. Gemma runs among a tight-knit group of friends, at the center of which is ordinary mischief, routine, and roughhousing. And beneath that lies a certain kind of everyday violence. 

As Gemma enters young motherhood, she reckons with how to reconcile her own aggressions with the protective tenderness she feels toward her newborn. Beautifully and thoughtfully directed by Ellen Fiske and Ellinor Hallin, Scheme Birds never feels invasive. Rather, their documentary lets Gemma speak for herself—and in doing so, illuminates not just her life, but the complicated lives that intersect hers, too. 

When it comes to depicting human rights violations, sometimes it’s more important to depict them as fast as you can, than it is to add some cinematic flair to the documentary, because people’s lives are at stake. Perhaps that’s why Sabaya feels as meandering as it does. It’s a dangerous story to tell. The filming itself is risky, but leaving too much information after editing can risk the next efforts of the rescuers– so it’s probably the reason why more of the mundane efforts are included, and some of the shots are shadowy, pointed to protect the people’s faces. Sabaya won’t be the most exciting way to depict its issue, but it achieves what it sets out to do: which is to remind the world of the suffering, as well as the volunteer efforts, still happening in the refugee camp.

Going deep undercover, integrating one’s self into a group without any suspicion, and passing out information to another party… That’s the job of a mole. While they mostly lurk in various government agencies, laboratories, and other special circles of power, The Mole Agent instead goes deep undercover in a Chilean retirement home, having stakes that may not be world-ending, but take more personal, domestic weight as Sergio befriends the residents, records and reports on their well-being, and tries to figure out what exactly Romulo wants as evidence. It’s a funny situation, one that depicts the resident home with warmth, albeit with the occasional spy cams and an old-fashioned piano score, but it can be difficult to figure out where the line is between truth and fiction, as some scenes can feel a bit staged. Still, The Mole Agent is a charming portrait of old age, made so compelling with director Maite Alberdi’s unusual perspective.

There is no shortage of resources—be it books, films, articles, or interviews—about the atrocities Ferdinand Marcos unleashed on the Philippines. And yet, in the years since his exile and eventual death, his family has returned to power in the country, winning the hearts and (manipulated) minds of the masses.

In The Kingmaker, director Lauren Greenfield (who earlier directed the equally revealing The Queen of Versailles) exposes how this came to be, with a focus on the titular kingmaker herself, Imelda Marcos. It’s chilling how much of Imelda’s stated goals in this documentary, which spans five years, have come true. History repeats itself, and Greenfield skillfully and delicately captures the delusion, irony, and blatant corruption of a family dead set on owning a country, as if it were another luxury to purchase (or in the case of the Marcoses, pocket).

In his last film, American Serb film historian Peter Bogdanovich celebrates silver screen legend Buster Keaton. The subject alone is compelling to watch. It would be easy to pull clips from Keaton’s works, dig through the headlines, pull in some celebrity interviews, and call it a day. However, in Bogdanovich’s hands, this documentary handles Keaton with respect. Instead of focusing on the scandals, Bogdanovich focuses on Keaton’s brilliant work. Instead of reciting facts, Bogdanovich highlights how his bits influenced film today. Excellent editing – cuts, structure, and scoring – helps us glide through Keaton’s work. The film truly understands Keaton’s life and exactly why he’s brilliant. Comprehensive yet very focused, this documentary honestly feels better than film school.

Science Fair is simultaneously a feel-good documentary and a feel-bad one: while inspiring and reassuring for all the brilliant young minds it spotlights, it also has the potential to make your own life accomplishments look paltry in comparison. The former effect is the strongest, though — because you can’t watch high schoolers as young as 14 present pioneering, disease-curing research and inventions and not feel like the future is in good hands.

Science Fair is light on the actual science, which makes it an accessible watch and prevents the film’s focus from mimicking the cutthroat nature of ISEF, the international competition it follows. With a grand prize of $75k and lots of college application-boosting medals up for grabs, the competition amongst the kids is fierce, but Science Fair instead takes an empathetic, celebratory approach so that all of the kids feel like deserved winners. That’s especially true of the more disadvantaged teens: though the competition itself might not take into account all the hurdles they’ve had to overcome even just to get in the room, this compassionate doc definitely does. Even if the science is all Greek to you, it’s impossible not to appreciate and be moved by the determination and resilience of these kids.