Christian Gallichio

Seeds may be indebted to the elder subjects that Shyne centralizes, but it’s also a film that dares to look forward, suggesting that — despite everything — these farms will continue.

The Aftermath may lack the novelty of the first film and often takes on more than its runtime can account for, but it also successfully adapts the genre of espionage thriller to the documentary form with riveting results.

It’s a powerful, infuriating document of a family’s resilience in the face of massive communal pressure and to the notion that these types of small, necessary shifts can add up.

Like Fences, Ma Rainey is an actor’s showcase, yielding exemplary work from Davis and tragically indicating a complex range from Boseman in a career that was just beginning to blossom. In short, it’s one of the best films of the year.

While at times a brutal watch, with the film’s insistence on showing the ravages of COVID-19 in up-close detail, 76 Days will, I suspect, become a landmark document when talking about the virus and China’s initial response.

Although Tamhane’s sedate pacing might put off those expecting a more visceral dive into the culture of Hindustani music, The Disciple is profound in its microcosmic world-building, slowly creating Sharad’s life through individually realized moments, adding up to an extraordinary portrait of a failed artist.

Peete and Yapkowitz have created a tender portrait of the underappreciated singer, humanizing her experience within the recording industry and showcasing a one-of-a-kind musician who is only just beginning to get the recognition she deserved.

Saint Frances is truly a stunning debut, both in its overt treatment of problems women face all the time, and its sheer unconventional approaches to, what on the surface looks like, a conventional narrative.

Akin’s film draws connections to suggest that maybe through these crossings, we begin to understand each other.

The Reason I Jump is a rewarding watch that attempts to give insight into the interior lives of those living with autism.

Twilight suggests the futility of trying to solve some labyrinthian plot and that, instead, one should train their lens away from the facts and onto the people affected.

Gladstone manages to sell every emotion, moving from despair to wonder as the journey continues.

From Ground Zero isn’t a hopeful film by any measure. In fact, it’s a painful and upsetting watch that nevertheless does find some semblance of optimism in the filmmakers and the work that was made. By putting these stories on camera — whether they be nonfiction or scripted — these filmmakers are nevertheless shedding light on a conflict that many would prefer not to see.

The Best is Yet to Come may take a while to get to its point, but it is nevertheless made with a sincere conviction about the ways in which journalism can give voice to the humanity underneath these restrictive laws.

While not the sweeping historical exploration of “Kingdom of Silence,” Fogel’s film vigorously interrogates the reasons and methods behind Khashoggi’s murder, creating a humane portrait of a fiercely political journalist.

I Lost My Body is aesthetically beautiful, surreal, clever, and truly profound in its offbeat dealings with trauma. But, more than anything, it succeeds in humanizing a bloody hand, elevating its absurd concept into a film that demands to be seen.

The Dog Who Wouldn’t Be Quiet is a visually realized film with perhaps too much on its mind for its limited runtime.

While the first hour or so is compelling, the problem with The Policeman’s Lineage isn’t so much the fact that it’s an amalgamation of various genres and tropes, but more that there is little coherency when the film transitions between them, creating a feeling of whiplash.

Sorelle may not offer much hope in terms of how one can fight against these systems that preach continual change, but her film is still a striking if slightly overstuffed, debut from a filmmaker to watch.

Coup 53 is a live-wire thriller that is one of the best documentaries of the year.

Argentina, 1985 doesn’t break new ground within the genre, but it’s a fascinating re-enactment of a major historical moment in Argentinian history. Anchored by a beautifully curmudgeon performance by Darín, Mitra’s film is understated, compelling, and ultimately an important rumination on the incremental way that justice is served.

By presenting all sides, Kopple’s film provides objectivity at the expense of immersion, crafting an all-sides look at a well-known period in American foreign policy.

It’s a film that not only works as a self-reflective biography and community portrait but also as a testament to the living nature of literature, where a work is able to be interpreted and reinterpreted by the generations to come.

While Kim’s encyclopedic dive may not offer much revelatory information, it nevertheless acts as an insightful and streamlined primer into Paik and his work, allowing fellow artists and critics the time and space to speak about Paik and the radical shift towards video art.

Bellingcat: Truth in a Post-Truth World is a slick documentary that presents a compelling argument about the problems presented with institutionalized journalism, yet it somewhat fails to present the full picture. Nevertheless, it’s a documentary worth seeking out, suggesting the possibility of amateur investigators with the possibility to change the course of global events.

The Longs’ debut film may be Frankensteined together from disparate genres. Still, it also is an occasionally delightful, sometimes funny, but also just often dull comedy that, ultimately, wastes a game cast on underdeveloped material.

The People’s Joker is deeply weird and often feels like the first draft of someone’s first attempt at using genre as a type of autofiction. But it’s also heartfelt, fascinating, and a really compelling introduction to an original cinematic voice.

With its short runtime and heady mix of styles, scenes, and ruminations, it’s still a fascinating refraction of one of the most interesting filmmakers working today.