Ken Jaworowski

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.

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

Though To Be of Service skips over specifics, the big picture is clear, and its overriding point well made: These dogs are saving the lives of those who’ve sacrificed so much. Every person profiled here deserves an immense amount of respect. Every animal, too.

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.

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.

As its energetic early scenes give way to a sluggish second half, you start to sense how much better this good-enough movie might have been.

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.

The survivors offer several potent recollections. Yet most other scenes linger and provide few insights.

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

This is a film too enamored of its subject to pry very deeply. And yet, it’s hard not to be enamored as well, as Pavarotti’s larger-than-life personality shines in almost every scene.

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.

Riehl gears his documentary more toward avid fans than casual viewers, though he nods to the human side of story.

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.

Chasing Portraits is small and subtle, with some missed opportunities and occasionally inexpert filmmaking. But it’s not an insignificant effort, and Ms. Rynecki’s cause is admirable.

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.

If you can look past the low-grade production values — and to do that you’ll need two awfully forgiving eyes — Reinventing Rosalee delivers a few rewards, thanks to its vibrant subject and her noteworthy life.

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.

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.

Trainin’s film spends a good deal of its running time surveying the emotions that affect everyone here, including the Tsuk children. Yet there’s quite a bit left unexplored; after the start, the director rarely returns to examine Amit’s past or seek insights into Amit’s inner self.

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.

Jerrold Tarog, the director, follows the same game plan as he did in “Heneral Luna,” with sweeping music and proud speeches (he wrote the script with Rody Vera). There are also some nice images of the lush Philippine countryside and of del Pilar’s troops.

In place of some kind of discovery there is mostly lamentation. That may be a valid response to events in Israel, but it’s not always a good way to engage a viewer.

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.

Lynskey and Schloss are well matched as mother and daughter, and Griffiths builds a relationship between them as this far-from-innocent teenager navigates her world. That rough journey is worth watching even when this film falls short.

By making you feel deeply for his sister and her children, Valdez has fashioned his film to make the lapses less glaring.

Bikini Moon is better in separate scenes than as a whole, where Manchevski’s overreaches and plot lapses become more glaring. In this film, the harshest truths — make that “truths” — are best served in small doses.

A big heart and a blunt plot run through Shine, a movie whose story is there mostly just to usher in a dance sequence or an earnest speech.

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.

Contrary to his delicious downer of a first film, the terrific “Big Fan,” Mr. Siegel doesn’t venture into risky areas here. He’s content to have these characters hang out in cars or at a diner while chewing the scenery and checking their beepers. If you came of age in the 1980s, that’s enough to enjoy.

Call Her Ganda (“ganda” means “beautiful” in Tagalog) remains commendable for its focus on the case, and for its insistence that the crime against Ms. Laude not be forgotten.

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

It was a prescient plan. Mr. Stern, a longtime Democrat, vowed to listen closely, and he seems to have kept his word. Though he doesn’t mask his expressions — usually astounded, though never mocking — he’s a genial interviewer, empathic, he says, even if he can’t be sympathetic.

A haunting first half can’t offset the absurd ending of I Think We’re Alone Now, a post-apocalyptic tale with a late plot twist that feels as if it comes out of left field. And right field. And center field, the stands and the dugout, too.

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.

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.

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

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.

It’s an amusing tale for young audiences, ending with the expected messages about friendship and courage. But there are delights for adults as well, particularly in the first half, with sendups of various comic book series (some aimed at DC’s own arch-nemesis, Marvel) and an extra-large supply of spoofs on other movies.

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.

To seek proof is distinctly human, and, in this case, a dose of skepticism is surely healthy.

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.

The Most Unknown works best as inspiration to delve deeper into these disciplines, and as a celebration of science. And when the film comes up short, it still functions like an intriguing experiment: It doesn’t have to be entirely successful for you to learn something.

A good story gets stuck in a puddle of mood in Dark Crimes, a film that strays from its fascinating source — a real-life murder case — into a less successful attempt at noir.

With an overbearing score, Breaking In telegraphs almost everything that happens yet still provides several jolts amid its occasionally questionable twists. While the filmmakers aren’t exerting themselves to deliver anything other than a popcorn-seller, Ms. Union is working hard to keep you watching.

For those terrified of heights, Mountain will be a nonstop nightmare. Yet big scares are a small price for the awe-inspiring footage you’ll see. As for what you’ll hear, that takes a little explaining.

It’s easy to second-guess a scene or three in Anything. Yet this is a film that wagers you’ll put aside your doubts and open up to its gentle emotions. It’s a bit of a risk for a viewer. But I’d take it.

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.

It’s a film that doggedly questions an exam that affects the futures of millions and feeds the fortunes of several big industries. Someone else — the schools — needs to supply some good answers.

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.

A head-scratcher that ends with a shoulder-shrug, An Ordinary Man feels like a scene-study exercise in which two actors invest full measures in a script that’s only half finished.

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

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.

Over-narrated and self-serious, this documentary allows its good intentions to pave the way to a tepid tale.

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.

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

This director isn’t afraid of silence, and he’s prepared to let a quiet moment speak for itself. Attentive viewing is required, and rewarded.

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

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

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.

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.

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

Considering all that’s been written and said over the last year, there’s not much new to learn from 11/8/16. But the film remains engaging for its stories, and is likely to be more instructive in the future, when passions have cooled. Judging by most people here, that won’t be soon.

Mr. Mully’s actions speak for themselves, and his robust personality makes him a pleasure to listen to. If the film doesn’t always dig deeply into this man’s life, we still see the results of his efforts. Those are enough to admire.

It’s an artful and lyrical assembly.

As with a dream, you can parse what you’ve watched for meaning or just savor what you’ve seen. For this compassionate film, either way works fine.

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.

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

There are several strong stories in The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson, a documentary that, in trying to tell them all, takes on too much.

While this worthy film sidesteps clichés — there are no horrid flashbacks or emotional speeches — its spareness occasionally feels planned rather than spontaneous. After a powerful first half, later scenes offer diminishing returns.

Like a “Black Mirror” episode combined with a philosophy seminar, Realive has plenty of brains. Yet it has a heart, too, and that adds a surprising amount of emotion to this above-average science-fiction film.

Enigmatic to an extreme, the documentary Bobbi Jene may interest viewers who are well versed in contemporary dance. All others are on their own.

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.

Sometimes the effort here is more admirable than exciting.

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

Leap! remains peppy as it sets its bar at a low-to-medium height then cheerfully clears 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.

The trouble with the movie — and it’s significant — is that Mr. Saleh is so keen to survey Egypt’s dysfunction that his pacing wanes. It’s possible to admire each scene and still see this film, in its entirety, as in need of some serious sharpening.

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

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.

One longs to praise Mr. Manrique for attempting a serious-minded story in this, his first feature. But there needs to be a real reason to embrace it, rather than what’s on this screen.

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

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.

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.

The portraits drawn of these young people frequently feel half-finished.

Certainly, the senselessness of bloodshed may be Mr. Power’s point. But with this setup, such a message is all but muted.

Heavy with emotion yet light on information, 500 Years has the curious effect of being both passionate and pale. You may find yourself championing its subjects even while feeling confounded by the omission of details by its filmmaker.

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

All the Rage overrides most of its shortcomings by keeping a breezy tone and by showing Dr. Sarno to be a convincing speaker, as well as an affable and somewhat crusty character.

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

It’s an interesting mix, though a few of the interviews meander, and, except for the championship, there’s little sense of urgency onscreen.

The cast members remain dedicated to their brooding roles as the script admirably reaches for emotions it only sometimes captures.

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

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.

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 is a film unafraid to look at [Burden's] acts, but timid when approaching his ideas.

No commercials are shown during Julian Schnabel: A Private Portrait. They would only be redundant. Instead this documentary serves as a feature-length advertisement for the artist, and is about as daring as a billboard for skim milk.

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

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.