You know that the people you choose to follow for a documentary are great characters when the film itself can survive as straightforward coverage of their actions, no fancy directorial flourishes needed. But this is not to downplay what director Meg Switzgable does. In fact, her dedication to sticking by Frank Kaler and the other citizens of South Brunswick on the ground—and therefore capturing them as three-dimensional, inspirational human beings—is arguably the core value that all documentarians should possess. This also means that the access Switzgable has to this issue of government negligence is obstructed by the same red tape Kaler encounters, making the film (already just an hour long) feel too short. Still, a modest documentary like this shouldn't feel this thrilling. And by the end, all these New Jersey residents look like rock stars.

The most inspiring truth that sets the film in motion is the idea that community organizing and protesting—one's radicalization, in other words—rarely begins as something rooted in some specific ideology. Kaler and his neighbors aren't "woke," whatever that really means, as if that were inherently a bad thing. Every ordinary person is capable of perceiving something wrong with their environment or the way things are handled by their elected officials, but what sets Kaler apart is simply his belief that raising his voice can, in fact, lead to change. If a humble housepainter in New Jersey can do it, what excuse do the rest of us have?