The Best Documentaries Of The Decade [2010s] - Page 5 of 6

20. “Cartel Land” (2015)
It’s very easy to argue that cartel violence has become all too acceptable as a superficial dramatic device in today’s media landscape: from well-intentioned, finely acted prestige dramas (“Sicario”) to more mindless mainstream efforts (Netflix’sNarcos,” David Ayer’s “Sabotage”), this is a touchy, tricky subject that rarely gets the nuanced treatment it very clearly deserves. Enter “Cartel Land,” a disturbing and indispensable documentary masterwork that takes a good, hard look at south-of-the-border cartel culture without a trace of sensationalism. “Cartel Land” is about how far violent, monolithic social factions can push hardworking ordinary people before the latter are compelled to fight back. This subject matter is familiar to director Matthew Heineman: his wonderful 2017 documentary “City of Ghosts” is about a band of media activists who risk their lives and the personal safety of their friends and families to publically uncover the atrocities being perpetrated by ISIS in Syria. “Cartel Land” is every bit as difficult to stomach, although there’s something undeniably moving about the spectacle of regular people standing up to a tyrannical organization that rules through fear and brutality. The film focuses on a Mexican doctor and an American military veteran, both of whom form paramilitary groups to combat the cartel’s doings both north and south of the border. As always, Heineman remains interested in what it means to rise up, and how living under the thumb of vehement oppression is akin to not living at all. This Academy Award-nominated film is crucial stuff, even if it’s tough to swallow: hard, unsentimental, unflinching, and impossible to forget. – NL

19.John McEnroe: In the Realm of Perfection” (2018)
During his professional career, John McEnroe consistently lived up to his title as the “bad boy” of tennis, a sport known for refinement and wealth. That sense of refinement and culture fits well into Julien Faraut’s 2018 artistic sports documentary “John McEnroe: In the Realm of Perfection.” The film highlights the 1984 French Open Men’s Single Final between McEnroe and one of his many rivals, Ivan Lendl. Using archival 16mm footage, Faraut creates a beautiful display of McEnroe as a tennis player and as a famous person of interest. McEnroe’s flaws, both in his game and personality, take shape throughout the film, and if you hadn’t already Googled the result, the impending sense of dread around the central character gives it away. Though more void of action than most sports documentaries, “John McEnroe: In the Realm of Perfection” makes the game of tennis a picturesque, gorgeous dance, due to the splicing of old footage and a soundtrack filled with classics. McEnroe continues to be the largest personality ever in the game of tennis, and though he lost this 1984 final, he certainly won the documentary and thousands of fans along the way. – Michael Frank

18. I’m Still Here” (2010)
It’s easy to look back at “I’m Still Here,” Casey Affleck’s inspired, wince-inducing pseudo-documentary (the word “mockumentary” seems too basic when applied here) about the public downfall of Joaquin Phoenix and see it for what it was: a fugazi art-movie prank that’s also a biting takedown of narcissism, actorly pretense, and the superficiality of modern celebrity culture. Still, it’s tough to understate exactly how bugfuck-nuts “I’m Still Here” seemed when it was dropped like an atomic bomb onto an unsuspecting public back in 2010. It seemed as though we, the audience, were witnessing a public bottoming out: playing the role of idle spectators as a well-paid, respected thespian suffered a very public mental breakdown. Were the famous folks who Affleck wrangled into appearing in the film (Ben Stiller, Danny Devito, Jack Nicholson, and more) in on the joke? And what was up with Phoenix’s rap songs, which were so mind-numbingly banal that they defied comprehension? Roger Ebert called the film “sad and painful,” and while he’s not wrong, he also wasn’t hip to the fact that the movie itself was a bleak joke: a knowingly ironic act of coy, self-conscious disavowal. “I’m Still Here” is full of some of the most uncomfortable moments you’ll ever see in any documentary, ever (Phoenix’s attempts to coerce Sean Combs into listening to his mixtape are particularly skin-crawling), but underneath it all lies a strangely incisive satirical expose of the crazy shit people are allowed to get away with when they’re famous. – NL

17.Exit Through the Gift Shop” (2010)
Almost a decade later, the most impressive aspect of Banksy’s documentary “Exit Through the Gift Shop” continues to be its mystery and anonymity, a shared trait with its creator. Following street-artist enthusiast Thierry Guetta, the film flows in and out of absurdity, with each scene bordering on mockumentary and a lack of understanding of the reality of these situations. The genius and creativity of street artists from around the world, including Banksy, Invader, and Shepherd Fairey, remain on full display throughout the film, with the only constant being the ever-enthused Guetta, who cannot help himself but become the focal point of it all. A fascinating portrait of one man’s search for fame and notoriety, “Exit Through the Gift Shop” forms into the rare documentary that is much less informative, and much more speculative. You find yourself doing substantive research during the film, absorbed by Guetta and subsequently by the artists he worships. Count this documentary as one of Banksy’s best pieces of art in a long career of producing cultural ripples. – MF

16. “The Arbor” (2010)
One of the most unforgettable feature debuts of the decade was undoubtedly British filmmaker Clio Barnard’s unconventional docudrama “The Arbor.” A searing look at the life of the prodigious, but troubled playwright Andrea Dunbar, “The Abor” utilizes several different narrative techniques in examining the tragic upbringing and untimely death of Dunbar. Undeniably jarring at first, Barnard uses talking head interviews with those closest to the playwright like Dunbar’s daughter, Lorraine Dunbar, but with trained actors re-recording the interviews verbatim and later dubbed over the real people. The result is unexpectedly hypnotic and effective, creating a disorienting wall between the inherently dramatic nature of Dunbar and her life while keeping the memories of her life grounded in the harsh reality she inhabited. Ostensibly a biopic in documentary form, “The Arbor” is far more complex than the typical docudrama partly due to its bold narrative risks, but also because the film gives Lorraine a chance to forgive her mother and herself by reckoning with her mistakes and therefore having a stronger understanding of the trauma that can be passed along through different generations. — MR

15.Free Solo” (2018)
As much a celebration of human achievement as it is an indictment of that same species’ capacity for astonishing stupidity, “Free Solo” succeeds in large part because it refuses to take a stand between these two camps. The documentary tracks climber Alex Honnold in his quest to become the first person to “free solo” Yosemite’s El Capitan (a technique that does not involve the widely accepted method of securing one’s self with ropes during a summit), an astonishingly dangerous feat. Directors Jimmy Chin and Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi give equal time to the not necessarily exclusive opinions that Alex’s feat represents the pinnacle of human achievement as well as the misguided ambitions of a mentally ill individual. Using a production crew of several experienced climbers to capture the mesmerizing feat, “Free Solo” is riveting beyond description, yet never gives itself over completely to the cult of Alex: who is unquestionably a world-class athlete, but also certifiably, unquestionably insane. From a purely visual perspective, “Free Solo” is a triumph, yet its willingness to explore the rat’s nest of contradictions that underwrite mankind’s capacity for hubris is by far its greatest achievement (with a major shout out to “Meru,” the same team’s harrowing mountain-climbing doc that came three years earlier). -Warren Cantrell

14. “The Interrupters” (2011)
Hoop Dreams” co-director Steve James returned to inner-city Chicago for this bruising, powerful snapshot of CeaseFire, which trains “violence interrupters” to stifle street conflicts and potentially violent situations before they get out of control. There is, of course, no skeleton key for such strife, and James (as ever) exhibits a gift for pushing past the bromides to properly parse the complexities of this work, and the people who do it (in this case, a trio of charismatic figures, each with their own difficult inner struggle). The shift to sentimentality and simplicity would be easy, and even understandable, but the immediacy of the filmmaking and the directness of the subjects keep “The Interrupters” from descending into treacle. -JB

13. “Faces Places” (2017)
An unassuming marvel of a movie, in “Faces Places,” beloved 89-year-old film legend Agnès Varda and the 34-year-old street artist J.R. teamed up for this Oscar nominee, an unlikely collaboration (and, charmingly, a friendship) that crossed generations, mediums, and their shared home turf of France. Criss-crossing the French countryside together in a mobile photo booth, camera, and oversized printer, the pair used the creation and display of giant murals of villagers and farmers—integrated into their own very landscape— on dilapidated old miners’ houses or on the massive wall of shipping containers at a port—to craft a gentle, probing, and humorous commentary on both how we see ourselves, and how we present ourselves to the world around us. Varda and JR are an irresistible duo, imbuing each interaction with good humor and gentle inquisitiveness whether they’re meeting goat farmers or waitresses. The final Varda picture released during her lifetime, the stirring “Faces Places” stands as an appropriate testimony to her curiosity and humanism. – JB

12. “Minding The Gap” (2018)
Stories about boys who skate have littered pop culture, but often from the perspective of those desperately trying to understand them. In “Minding The Gap,” Bing Liu traces his own journey, growing up and skating in his Rust-Belt hometown with his best friends Keire and Zack. The film follows the three boys, as they evolve from shifty teenagers to young men with families, insecure employment and difficult familial truths to reckon with. Each boy has a clear path, and a clear set of obstacles to overcome. Liu films them all, including himself with patience and generosity, asking questions that feel entirely curious – never exploitative. The role of a father and his impact is brought into focus, through Zack’s experience with his young son and the strained relationship he has with his girlfriend; Keire’s distant relationship with his own father before he died; Bing’s need for answers from his mother who suffered from domestic abuse. Each storyline contains trauma but is delivered in such a gentle, sensitive manner that it never feels untrue or excessive. The close friendship between the three young men infuses a sense of intimacy into the film – their stories are incredible in terms of the redemptive and often surprising journeys, but it’s in the care for each other than the film transcends its form, and stands as one of the finest non-fiction films for years. – Ella Kemp

11.Leaving Neverland” (2019)
For a man who’s repeatedly been accused of grossly inappropriate behavior involving underage boys, Michael Jackson has an alarming number of apologists. The primary question we’ve heard regarding “Leaving Neverland” – a wrenching two-part documentary produced by HBO Films and directed by Dan Reed – seems to be “Why now?” Jackson’s sexual transgressions are old news, at least for most of us. What is the point of exhuming these decades-old allegations in 2019? What “Leaving Neverland” purports to tell us is that although we may be superficially familiar with the predatory and abusive behavior that Jackson eventually became infamous for, we do not know the sinister depths he sank to in pursuit of his basest compulsions, nor do we know the extent to which he casually ruined many family’s lives along his ascent to pop superstardom. After digesting all four hours of “Leaving Neverland,” you may find it damn near impossible to relisten to “Billie Jean” with a clean conscience. Reed’s documentary, though it is the definition of a tough sit, is so much more than a mere endurance test. It is an interrogation of our cultural capacity to tolerate immorality and an examination of how we unconsciously allow evil to thrive when it is accompanied by the blinding lights of celebrity reverence. “Leaving Neverland” is the opposite of a passive viewing experience, but that’s exactly what makes it essential. It forces us to wrangle with the public image of a man whose songs were the soundtrack to so many of our lives, before peeling back the façade and exposing the festering rot that exists just beneath the surface. – NL