Ken Jaworowski

Connor Jessup wonderfully inhabits the teenage Oscar, who observes others while trying to find himself.

For sure, this funny and tender film prompts cheerful smiles, but sometimes they turn melancholy.

An exceptionally absorbing documentary.

Alexandria Bombach’s direction and editing are exceptional; she captures images that are both subtle and formidable. Her film is, first and foremost, a profile of Murad and her mission. Yet it’s also a comment on the media and on government aid.

Often uncomfortable and all the better for it, A Crooked Somebody doesn’t mind watching its characters squirm a little. That’s tough for them but good for us in this highly enjoyable thriller.

Using newsreels, voice-overs and re-enactments, Roberta Grossman, the documentary’s director, paints a comprehensive portrait of the times and of the risks taken by Ringelblum and his group. The staged scenes are well acted, while readings from diaries and letters are heartbreaking.

The blues seep into every scene of Satan & Adam, a gritty yet lovely documentary. And even after the songs stop, the music’s bittersweet emotions linger.

While scenes of the lake and land are magnificent, there are repulsive sights and stories, too. Whether inspiring or upsetting, all feel authentic.

The surgery scenes in The Bleeding Edge are squirm-in-your-seat uncomfortable. But it’s the interviews — watching patients recount agonies they’ve suffered from poorly researched and regulated medical devices — that are hardest to sit through.

Young viewers could certainly handle a few more harsh facts. Yet The Elephant Queen sets out, first and foremost, to use a narrative to build compassion. And here, a good story is as effective as a shout.

While there may be no completely dispassionate way to discuss its topic — the Armenian genocide — the film’s balance of emotion and composure helps make its stories even stronger.

Mr. Kraume captures the glances and motions that lay bare a character’s thoughts. He’s fond of the gruff and curmudgeonly Bauer, yet sentimentality is scarce while the double-crossings are surprising and the dry humor is welcome.

Though the timeline and a few details could use further clarification, dream/killer remains fast-paced and frightening.

Mr. Hauck’s affection is apparent in every frame, yet outside of an occasionally clunky line or show-offy moment (O.K., sometimes it’s more occasional than just occasionally), he rarely allows it to alter his aim. That aim is to make a modern noir. That aim is true.

I must have breathed while watching Cash Only. But it sure felt as if I didn’t. This brutal and severe film has that effect.

There’s a lot to laugh at, and to learn from, in Tickling Giants, a documentary that starts off by telling the story of one man and ends up speaking volumes about satire, freedom of expression and political pressure.

The truth turns into a tangled mess in A River Below, a bold and urgent documentary whose seemingly straightforward story quickly runs awry.

The barbarity described in Finding Oscar is stomach-turning, but moments of courage still shine through in this unsettling yet vital documentary.

Amid the fight, there’s a sense of hope as we watch one tough kid turning into one tough man. With luck, that will lead to a sequel.

The sense of danger is palpable, as is the sense of misery after the most dreadful scenes.

A documentary that is as rewarding as this artist’s work.

Every “Oh wow” in Human Nature is matched by an “Oh no” somewhere down the line. Together, these two competing emotions — excitement and unease — make for one pretty fascinating documentary.

Thank You for Your Service, directed by Tom Donahue, uses its late scenes to explore nongovernment programs that have arisen to help veterans. Those examples are heartfelt and encouraging, and offer some hope after the devastating early sections.

This potent film gives equal weight to complex emotions as well as bare facts. In the same way, it’s not just the story of a man’s death, but also a study of the aftermath.

Indeed, few satisfying answers arise here. But there’s bravery in asking the questions, and this film knows something about courage.

Several long, wordless stretches arise during the film, all of them thoughtful. Jaron Albertin, directing his first feature, cultivates tension in small moments and doesn’t force the drama.

While the scenes shown from “Bulletproof,” the western they complete, are haphazard, that’s of little concern. If you want to see real courage, it’s not in that movie anyway. It’s in this documentary.

Most extraordinary are interviews with the women who came forward to provide evidence in court. Their integrity and tenacity, and their loyalty to one another, is enough to bring you to tears.

Peter Bratt, the director, uses an immense amount of historical footage and interviews, arranged with clarity.

If you couldn’t name two Native American musicians at the beginning of the documentary, you’ll remember at least a half-dozen after the end. And it’s a good bet you’ll be searching for their albums, too.

It’s an artful and lyrical assembly.

Sad, tender and quietly moving, The Departure never says more than it needs to, much like its subject, a Buddhist priest who counsels those contemplating suicide.

The energy here is controlled, the mood reflective. These character-driven songs are populated by the washed-up and the run-down — an aging actor, a hitchhiker — and the shared themes are remembrance and regret.

It’s an important story, made more intense by its tight focus.

Summer in the Forest is an extraordinarily tender documentary that asks what it means to be human. Here, even the most gentle scenes raise mighty questions.

The film, directed by Mikkel Norgaard (who’s borrowed a thing or three from David Fincher) and first released in Denmark in 2013, often focuses on research rather than on gunplay, yet somehow it still feels filled with action. That’s a testament to its lead actors.

A remarkably enjoyable, and sometimes very funny, documentary about a frightening topic.

If there aren’t many big laughs here, there are enough smiles to make the time pass pleasantly enough.

The filmmakers rarely delve into the spiritual aspects of the story, but that’s O.K. You don’t have to believe in Padma and Urgain’s religion to believe in them.

The filmmakers supply terrifying footage: At civilian rallies, we see nightstick beatings and bloody riots. During military battles, bullets whiz by and explosions shake the cameras. Nerve-racking scenes follow Ukraine’s extraordinarily bold volunteer soldiers.

Sure, the filmmakers overdo their work. But it’s all in the service of love, and somehow that makes it O.K.

While more information on the animals and their ecosystems is needed, the stakes described here are immense, as is the sorrow over majestic creatures massacred only so that their tusks can be made into baubles.

Try as it might, sadness still can’t get the best of The Rest I Make Up, a lyrical and lovingly made documentary about the playwright María Irene Fornés, which recalls her career and follows her over several bittersweet years as Alzheimer’s steals her memories.

While those seeking interplanetary scenarios may want more details, fans of endurance stories will be pleased. Indeed, Passage to Mars has the effect of making a trip to another world appear almost secondary. The journey undertaken here seems nearly as frightful and fascinating.

This film isn’t always pretty, but its message is necessary.

There’s much to absorb throughout “The Spy Behind Home Plate,” and sometimes details speed by too fast or digressions go on a bit long. Still, Kempner’s passion for her remarkable subject is always evident.

Part scrappy, part sweet and wholly enjoyable, The Lost Arcade is a love letter to a vanished piece of New York, and a little wish for the future.

As lovely as the movie is to look at (and the final scene is exceptionally wonderful), it’s too oblique to concentrate its energies and sharpen its focus.

For sure, there are plenty of humorous moments here. But that underlying sadness is the most affecting aspect of the film.

You’ll have to wade through several topics to get to the heart of Legion of Brothers, but once you’re there, some intense stories make the effort worthwhile.

This roughly constructed yet passionate documentary isn’t shy about showing the massacre of elephants or about calling out the groups implicit in the killings. That bluntness and courage usually overrides the uneven filmmaking.

Making a Killing generates a disgust that can’t be shaken.

Even knowing the secret of A Gay Girl in Damascus doesn’t make this documentary any less tense. That’s a testament to Sophie Deraspe, a director who understands how to let a plot unfold.

Like a spare short story, this little indie nurtures a few simple emotions, then hopes its audience will stick around to share in them. I’m glad I did.

A tough and cleareyed look at how things are, rather than how we want them to be.

It’s appealing to adults and accessible to younger viewers. And it delivers an environmental message that is strong and serious while remaining encouraging and optimistic. That’s important to hear. The rest is just amazing to watch.

This formidable film is sometimes zealous to a fault: The credits cite more than 200 sources of archival material, from The Washington Post to YouTube channels. It’s a lot to take in, as names and numbers zip by, yet missing some of its points may be healthy. To explore every moment is to risk overdosing on outrage.

If all of Song of Lahore were as exciting as its ending, you’d need an hour afterward to catch your breath. It’s not, yet despite a lackluster start, this documentary redeems itself by the finale.

16 Shots remains valuable as a record of past events that hold sway over the present.

A bittersweet and lovely little movie.

Jon Kean, the director, chose the material wisely and doesn’t shy from severe images. He and his team also have good ears for anecdotes.

I’m only a little embarrassed at liking Heneral Luna, an audaciously manipulative movie that’s more involving than it should be. But really, when a film works this hard to rouse you, there’s no shame in just giving in.

Silicon Cowboys prizes the human drama behind business events, much as in “The Social Network” or “Steve Jobs.” Those films, too, pretended that technology was the star. But they knew that people were the real story.

The art is the star and Ms. Axelrod features plenty of it. She also outlines a knowing path through Mr. Cattelan’s career, leaving just enough room to have you wondering if the artist is more of a con man than a genius.

It’s possible to fully, and vehemently, disagree with Mr. Wilson and Mr. Taaki yet still see their points. That can make The New Radical unsettling. It also makes it a film worth watching.

Maya Angelou: And Still I Rise covers so much ground that it’s usually easy to forgive the filmmakers for not digging deeper. This is a documentary interested in breadth rather than depth, and on those terms it succeeds.

While it would have been easy for Mr. Sobel to unleash an angrier screed against the inequalities shown, some well-placed images tell us all we need to know about the haves and have-nots here.

Mr. Fogel could be considered either daring or foolhardy for his initial plan. But his work with Dr. Rodchenkov is levelheaded, and his documentary illuminating.

It’s a little amazing how a story so guilty of gross-out violence can retain a share of comic innocence.

There’s a lot of labor and conflict shown here, and rarely have they looked so good.

You don’t wait for what comes next in People’s Republic of Desire as much as you watch and wonder why any of it is happening. That sensation arises often in this canny documentary about a baffling topic.

The resulting emotions are complex, and Bloch, here directing her first feature, can be excused for allowing a few of the scenes to stray. But by the end of the documentary, she and many of her subjects posit that it’s possible to learn from history and to change, and to trust each other a little more.

The humble Mr. Norman is always ready with a laugh, and it’s tough not to smile yourself when he reaches for a pencil and starts drawing. When that happens, it’s redundant to say he’s special. Anyone can see it.

Pilgrimage raises a question or two about unexamined beliefs and religious zeal. Those questions, as well as all that blood, won’t appeal to everyone. But those who can stomach them will receive some dark rewards.

Even at 75 minutes, it can feel padded with footage whose connection to the central plot is tenuous. But at its best, The Wanted 18 follows a worthy tradition of highlighting absurdities that arise during conflict.

It certainly demands patience (and a forgiving eye) as it experiments with an odd style. Yet it’s also a compassionate look at characters who don’t dwell on life. Instead, they live.

The story behind “Landfill Harmonic” is so good that even some imperfect filmmaking can’t hold it back.

To be sure, this loosely structured story needs a stronger outline; you’ll often wish for clarifying details on the group’s programming and its unfamiliar instruments. But then the music will play, and you’ll think this film wants for nothing.

While eavesdropping on these academics, you may be captivated by their exchanges while frustrated by their stasis while curious about their lives. Indeed, there are several ways to look at these scenes. But all you really have to do is listen.

Even when its plot starts to sag, Walking Out remains beautiful to watch.

The directors let their subjects speak without overtly passing judgment.

A documentary that’s remarkably engaging despite treating its rough-and-tumble hero with kid gloves.

Part psychology seminar and sociology course, “Germans & Jews” finds its sharpest insights as it examines the stress of communication, when both sides are so hyper-aware of the past that it hinders what’s said in the present.

A one-word assessment of this documentary: Tough. As in, tough to watch. Tough to consider. Tough to ignore.

The makers of A Brave Heart: The Lizzie Velasquez Story leave a few too many questions unanswered, but their subject’s immense optimism steamrolls through the documentary’s shortcomings. Indeed, there seems to be little this woman can’t vanquish.

In Darkness moves along so smartly that near the end, when the filmmakers entreat you to follow them just a bit more, you’ll likely oblige. And why not. They’ve already gotten you to invest quite a lot in this clever little thriller.

We spy on an artist who races around like a mad scientist, and who seems comically befuddled by technology. His passion is genuine, as is his sense of wonder.

Mr. Allen has made an engrossing and tense documentary, though his insider knowledge is sometimes a hindrance.

Approaching the story for the traditional trappings — narrative, action, even logic — is to ensure disappointment. But look to it for beauty and lyricism, and you may find a deeper satisfaction.

An understated and often charming film.

Michael Bonfiglio, the film’s director, provides a concise overview of the issues.

Here’s what sounds like one dud job: calculating bird populations in Antarctica. But here’s what that work has inspired: one swell documentary.

Some stronger filmmaking would be welcome, sure, but After Louie has an honesty that’s often just as valuable.

An Open Secret is affecting, particularly when the victims recount their experiences in voices that crack with emotion or pause with pain. Even if you do look away, hearing them speak is enough.

It’s a fond and forgiving tribute to the man, filled with music that moves beyond happy and sad, and toward something like brilliance.

Though the film is heavier on summaries than specifics, its messages are troubling nonetheless.

An engaging account of Peep’s life and the alt-music scene.

The humor is dry and the acting deadpan in Women Who Kill, a comedy that plays it droll and is all the funnier for it.