©DocThisReviews

Little Dieter Needs to Fly by Werner Herzog

2026-10-15T02:46:28.538-04:00

In classic Werner Herzog style, Little Dieter Needs to Fly frames a character you are instantly drawn to. The pacing, the cuts, and the way the story unfolds feel less like the editor imposing a style and more like a reflection of the character himself. Herzog allows Dieter Dengler to lead the film, and the result is a portrait that feels as much like an exploration of the human spirit as it does a recounting of war.

In 1966, Dengler was shot down over Laos while serving as a U.S. Navy pilot during the Vietnam War. Captured and imprisoned, he endured horrific conditions before escaping at a weight of just 85 pounds. Barefoot, he survived monsoons, leeches, and the constant threat of capture before being rescued. His escape is extraordinary, but what makes the film so compelling is Dengler himself. His ability to tell his story, with remarkable clarity and a quiet intensity, is the driving force of the documentary.

The pain and suffering Dengler experienced throughout his life are never far from the surface. From growing up in Germany during World War II, surviving Allied bombing raids, and enduring postwar poverty and beatings, to the horrors of captivity in Southeast Asia, his life is marked by hardship. Yet there is something in him that refuses to surrender. Herzog's camera captures a man who has found a way to live with his memories, even if the weight of those experiences never fully disappears.

We may never experience suffering on the scale of Dieter Dengler, but we all face our own struggles, losses, and moments when survival becomes the only objective. In that way, Little Dieter Needs to Fly becomes something more than a story about a prisoner of war who escaped against extraordinary odds. It asks us to consider where the strength to endure comes from, how we carry the things that have happened to us, and what it means to keep moving forward. Through Dengler, Herzog finds a story that is both profoundly personal and universally human.

Crossing Lines: An American Ride by Barry Walton

2026-10-14T09:06:17.539-04:00

In 2018, a phone call from Zac Bookman introduced me to an idea that would become one of the most ambitious productions of my career. His dream was to bicycle across America. I saw an opportunity to tell a uniquely American story through documentary filmmaking, capturing the country beyond the headlines and politics. In 2021, that vision became OpenGov Across America, a coast-to-coast journey that would test our limits in ways none of us anticipated.

From California wildfires and flash floods in Utah to freezing rain in Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains, the ride was nearly derailed multiple times. Over 37 days on the road, I witnessed the country at the pace of a bicycle, from depleted reservoirs and massive cattle feedlots to Civil War battlefields and small-town diners. Along the way, conversations with people across nine states challenged my assumptions about our culture, our history, and what still brings us together.

The result was Crossing Lines: An American Ride, a documentary that goes beyond the physical challenge of cycling across America. It explores the people, landscapes, and experiences that shape our national identity.

Sometimes, the most revealing picture of a country comes from slowing down, listening, and seeing it for yourself.

Yet the most lasting impact of the journey came from what we witnessed between the crises. Moving across America by bicycle gave me time to see the country in a way that driving through it never could. I saw depleted reservoirs in the West, enormous cattle feedlots across Kansas, Civil War artifacts preserved by local residents, and communities wrestling with the meaning of their history. More importantly, I listened to people whose experiences rarely make it into national conversations. Their stories challenged my assumptions and forced me to confront a difficult question: How much do we really understand about one another when so much of what we believe about America comes from a distance? Somewhere along those miles, the film became about more than completing a ride. It became an attempt to find the common ground beneath our divisions and discover what still connects us.

Crossing Lines: An American Ride became the culmination of that journey, eventually reaching audiences on Amazon Prime and receiving recognition at the Seattle Film Festival in 2023. But for me, the film carries a deeper significance. I remember the uncertainty, the exhaustion, the setbacks, and the personal sacrifices required to bring it to life. I also remember the people we met and the moments that reminded me why the story mattered.

Documentary filmmaking can take you places you never expected to go, both physically and emotionally. Sometimes, the greatest reward isn't simply reaching the finish line. It's discovering something about the world, about other people, and about yourself that you could never have learned by staying where you started.

Baraka a film directed and photographed by Ron Fricke and produced by Mark Magidson (1992)

2026-09-27T11:49:20.329-04:00

Easily one of my favorite documentary films, and one that remains in my personal top 10, is Baraka. But it is not a film for the casual viewer when it comes to documentary films. There is no narrator telling you what to think. There is no traditional storyline explaining what you are seeing. Instead, the film requires the viewer to interpret the images and apply meaning to them. And frankly, I think that is where a lot of documentary consumers struggle with a film like this.

You have to participate. You have to derive the deeper meaning of what the filmmaker is saying. And that is exactly what makes Baraka so powerful.

The film moves through three major forces: economic power, religious power, and the power of nature. Those images resonate over and over again, creating visual connections between seemingly unrelated places and cultures. Slowly, the film spirals toward something that could be interpreted as the destruction of the human experience, or perhaps the evolution we are going.

For me, the message is somewhere in the space that humans like to put order to chaos. But too much order creates chaos. So balance is the key to all existence. The loss of balance between the two creates destruction.

You see that battle for balance in the spirit versus organized religion. You see it in the wild jungle of nature versus the development of society. And you see it in the power of money versus the significance of the people who actually create the products that generate that wealth.

Baraka captures all of this visually, creating an emotional story without relying on traditional storytelling.

And that is an incredible filmmaking achievement when you consider what went into making it. Fricke and Magidson took a small crew around the world, shooting on 70mm film across 24 countries and six continents. The production took roughly 30 months, including 14 months of location shooting, and used a custom-built computerized 65mm camera to capture some of the film's remarkable time-lapse photography.

Then there was the business side of actually getting a film like this made and seen. Baraka was produced through Magidson Films and ultimately secured theatrical distribution through The Samuel Goldwyn Company in the United States. Goldwyn planned an initial 70mm release in a handful of major cities before expanding into additional markets.

That matters. Because a film like Baraka is not an easy commercial proposition. There is no star. There is no traditional narrative. There is no voiceover explaining the story. It was shot on an expensive large-format film stock and required audiences to sit with the images and make their own connections.

Yet someone believed enough in the film to give it a theatrical life. And the music is a huge part of why it works. Michael Stearns created the original score, while the soundtrack also incorporates music from artists including Dead Can Dance, L. Subramaniam, Somei Satoh and others. The music doesn't simply sit underneath the images. It becomes part of the storytelling.

There is a reason the film feels almost spiritual at times. The images are telling you something. The music is telling you something. And together they create a feeling that would be almost impossible to communicate through narration.

And this isn't a film that you watch on a small-screen TV with poor audio. This is a film you watch in a theater. You let the images surround you. You let the music become part of the experience. You stop trying to figure out exactly what the filmmaker is telling you and start asking yourself what the images mean to you. That is the difference between watching a documentary and experiencing one.

Baraka is now 34 years old. And somehow, it may be more relevant today than it was when it was released. Technology has changed. The way we consume media has changed. The world has changed. But the tension between nature, religion, humanity, industry, money, and the systems we create to bring order to our lives hasn't gone away.

If anything, Baraka gives us an opportunity to step outside of all of that for 97 minutes and simply look at ourselves. And maybe that is the point. Not to tell us what to think, but to make us think.

Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe by Les Blank

2026-09-12T13:24:27.108-04:00

Werner Herzog, arguably one of the most famous directors of film and documentary, had his own funding problems. When making his film Fitzcarraldo, Herzog ran into funding problems and decided to have a fundraiser to eat his own shoes. You heard that right. Werner Herzog ate his own shoes for money, and you can still watch him do it in the documentary on Amazon Prime by Les Blank called Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe.

It's kind of disgusting, and I'm amazed that he actually ate his soup-soaked shoes, but he did, and he did it for funding upfront because he believed in what he was doing. That conviction paid off because he started getting paid for his amazing ideas.

Many years later, he made the film “Lo and Behold” about the birth of the Internet, and Netscout, who funded the project, benefited big time. A case study showed a 10x increase in its annual brand impressions from approximately 30 billion during the year the film was released. That equated to a spend of approximately $20 million in earned media on a fairly low-budget documentary.

It was a documentary that shocked me a little, actually a lot, but gave good reason to fight for what you believe because sooner or later if you hold out for what you believe you will get paid.

Keep going!

Jordan Rules: How the Bad Boys Shut Down MJ

2026-08-27T21:01:33.182-04:00

Before Michael Jordan’s The Last Dance. Before ESPN’s 30 for 30: The Bad Boys. The Detroit Pistons released Jordan Rules, and at the time, it became the most-viewed video in Pistons.com history, arguably serving as a preamble to ESPN’s later release. Here's how I got it made and the people that part of it.

When I first brought up the idea during a brainstorming meeting for online content, there was some pushback. Leadership within the Pistons front office still held a serious grudge against Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls, and they didn’t want to glorify him.

But the reality was that this chapter of Bad Boys history was a moment of great pride. The Pistons had devised a system specifically designed to shut down MJ, and they had done it successfully during their back-to-back championship seasons in 1989 and 1990.

After some coaxing of my boss, Stan Fracker, who was the head of production at the time, the team gave us the green light. What came from it was this documentary short.

The project features interviews with Terry Foster, Greg Kelser, Bernie Smilovitz, James Edwards, Bill Laimbeer, and Rick Mahorn, offering firsthand perspectives on what the Jordan Rules meant and how the Bad Boys used them to take down the Bulls.

Credit goes to the amazing creative team that CEO Dennis Mannion and VP of Marketing Charlie Metzger had assembled at the time. The interviews that Stan Fracker, Ryan Archibald, Ellie Wiles, and I conducted are some of my favorite memories from that era.

I also have to give a huge shoutout to the late, great Darrel Quandt, who worked with me on all the graphics throughout this series. Darrel was always stoked to help and consistently created amazing work.

Pay close attention to the graphics as they break down the keys to what the Jordan Rules actually were. Then comes my favorite part. As the graphics transition from red to blue, the first six letters spell out DARREL.

RIP, Darrel. Miss you, buddy.

See the full piece:

Jasper, Florida a documentary by Director Jesse McMinn

2026-07-12T08:11:20.826-04:00

Some documentaries tell a story. Others simply invite you to spend time in a world that feels impossible to manufacture. Jasper, directed by Jesse McMinn, does the latter.

Filmed over the course of a year with nothing more than natural light and a one person crew, Jasper begins as a simple portrait of a group of musicians living in an aging, haunted house in the small Florida town of Jasper. By the time it ends, it has become something much stranger, more poetic, and surprisingly unforgettable.

The film opens with Dean, one of its central figures, reflecting on how he came into this world. His words are paired with lingering images of the century-old house where much of the story unfolds. It immediately establishes that this is less a documentary interested in facts than one interested in atmosphere, memory, and character.

From there, McMinn introduces a collection of musicians and artists whose lives revolve around music, friendship, and the peculiar home they inhabit. Because McMinn is also a member of the band, he enjoys a level of trust that few documentary filmmakers ever achieve. The camera never feels like an outsider looking in. Instead, it feels like another friend sitting quietly in the room, capturing moments that otherwise would never exist on film.

The house itself becomes a character. Stories of unexplained experiences, strange encounters, and local folklore are built into conversations and interviews. The residents look almost like characters who stepped out of a psychedelic version of Scooby Doo, yet their stories never feel manufactured. They simply exist in their own wonderfully eccentric world.

Music drives much of the film. Performances by Alien Witch and The San Francisco Renaissance are interwoven with beauty shots of rural, raw North Florida. The landscape becomes inseparable from the musicians themselves. The heat, humidity, forgotten buildings, and quiet roads shape these artists just as much as they shape the town around them.

Rather than following a conventional narrative, Jasper unfolds as a collage of moments. Small excerpts like commercial breaks from the real-life action and music explore life inside the haunted house and around the town. Stories about surfing, local healing springs, friends who once worked at 1-800 psychic hotlines, or bits of town history. All become part of a portrait of a place and the people who call it home.

There is also an unmistakable psychedelic current running throughout the film. References to hallucinogens and altered states appear without apology, while McMinn occasionally leans into dreamlike visuals that blur the line between observation and experience. At times, the imagery feels beautiful and transcendent. At others, it feels unsettling enough that you're not entirely sure where reality ends and myth begins.

When the credits roll, you're left with two competing reactions: admiration for what you've witnessed and the unavoidable question, "What did I just watch?" Oddly enough, that's exactly what makes Jasper so compelling. The stories are entertaining, the music is excellent, the cinematography is quietly beautiful, and its characters are unlike anyone you're likely to encounter in another documentary.

It is extraordinarily difficult for a filmmaker to earn enough trust to document people this honestly. Jesse McMinn accomplishes something rare. Rather than simply documenting musicians, he captures an entire culture that exists just beneath the surface of everyday Florida. The result is a documentary that feels authentic, unpredictable, and destined to become something of a cult classic.

Rating: 4 out of 5

See Trailer:

Voice of Memory by Scott Loudon - a glimpse into Anónimo

2026-06-29T12:07:28.594-04:00

Voice of Memory offers a glimpse into a much larger story, Anónimo. The documentary is the artistic vision of Scott Loudon, a lifelong musician, filmmaker, and one of the finest on set audio recording specialists I've worked with. I interviewed Scott several years ago for the Doc This podcast (link below).

I've had the privilege of watching Scott's passion and commitment to this project for more than seven years, and his dedication is unparalleled. This short film is only one chapter of a much larger story still to come, and I wanted to share a taste of his remarkable work here.

In the filmmaker's own words:

In 1972, more than 5,000 pages of forgotten Baroque music were discovered hidden within the Jesuit mission church of San Rafael in eastern Bolivia. The discovery would eventually reveal one of the largest collections of Baroque music found outside Europe and spark a cultural movement that would transform an entire region.

Through stunning imagery, intimate interviews, and the voices of musicians, educators, and community leaders, the film tells the story of how APAC and the International Festival of Renaissance and Baroque Music emerged from this discovery. What began as an effort to preserve a forgotten musical heritage grew into a movement that revitalized mission towns across eastern Bolivia, creating opportunities for Indigenous youth, restoring cultural pride, and reconnecting communities with a legacy that had survived for centuries.

Today, thousands of young musicians participate in orchestras, choirs, and music programs inspired by this heritage. The festival has become an internationally recognized celebration of music, faith, education, and cultural identity, bringing artists and audiences from around the world to Bolivia's historic mission towns.

At the heart of APAC: Voice of Memory is a tribute to the anonymous heroes, teachers, volunteers, musicians, families, and visionaries whose dedication ensured this music would not remain silent. Their efforts transformed a remarkable discovery into a living tradition that continues to shape lives and inspire future generations.

Scott Loudon is an American director, producer, and audio engineer who first came to Bolivia more than 26 years ago on a mission focused on water purification work among Indigenous communities. During that time, he discovered the extraordinary story of the Baroque music preserved in the Jesuit missions of eastern Bolivia. Deeply moved by the mystery, beauty, and human significance of this music, Scott has spent the last 11 years researching, filming, and documenting its impact. That journey became the foundation for his upcoming feature documentary, Anónimo: The Story of the Unknown Composer.

Watch, Anonimo Trailer

Want to know more about the author ?

2026-06-27T14:13:20.390-04:00

Now you can learn more about the struggles from childhood to Hollywood and the adventures it took to become an Emmy-winning director. It's all inside his new book, The Unknown Adventurer, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and wherever books are sold.

After failing the third grade, surviving a traumatic car crash at 16 that sparked a lifelong pursuit of theology and faith, moving to Hollywood to work with celebrities, chasing the love of his life to Italy, and filming a documentary in the Himalayas, Barry Walton has lived a life defined by the unknown.

Each unexpected turn has profoundly shaped his worldview and helped him discover a roadmap for turning dreams into reality. In The Unknown Adventurer, Barry shares those extraordinary experiences for the first time in an entertaining, thought-provoking, and often jaw-dropping story that will inspire you to dream bigger, take greater risks, and embrace the path between the known and the unknown in your own life.

Buy on Prime now!

Burden of Dreams (1982) by Werner Herzog

2026-06-22T08:41:32.430-04:00

Werner Herzog is young, yet already quintessential Herzog. He's telling the behind-the-scenes story before behind-the-scenes was even a thing. In doing so, he captures the rare reality of filmmaking as an extremely challenging process. The documentary itself might actually be better than the film. Let me explain.

The story gives us a look at a culture and region rarely seen by Western audiences at the time. Conflict arrives immediately. The natives are aware of Herzog's presence, and rumors are flying about him being a destroyer, smuggler, and imperialist. Right from the start, they are under pressure, and it doesn't look good for the film. The production is forced to shut down and move.

In Act Two, Herzog relocates the production 1,500 miles away and hires Mick Jagger. After six weeks of filming, the lead actor became sick and could not return. Then Jagger drops out. It is here that the character of Herzog, the hero of the documentary, is born.

"If I quit now, I'm a man without dreams. I will live or die on the completion of this film."

These are the makings of greatness.

Production restarted in 1980.

The film is shot on the edge of the Amazon floodwaters. Where things really start to get interesting is when you realize they are actually going to pull a boat over a hill in the jungle. Not with miniatures. Not with special effects. They are physically going to do it.

The conflicts continue to mount to seemingly insurmountable odds. Herzog is battling the logistics of filming in a remote and undeveloped part of the world. Food is a constant challenge. Actors are getting sick with malaria and other jungle illnesses and want to abandon ship. Crew members are dropping out. At the same time, he is trying to accomplish something virtually impossible by pulling a massive boat over a hill.

He is also battling the seasons. The rainy season ends. Rivers begin to drop. The entire production is in danger of collapsing.

Then the boat gets stuck and things again seems doomed.

The documentary takes an interesting shift at this point. It begins to turn its eyes toward the natives from the Amazon. A conflict between tribes with arrows that nearly killed two actors appears to have sobered Herzog from his obsession. For the first time, he seems to lose some of the optimism and spirit that carried him through the earlier parts of the production.

I found it fascinating when the documentary began to zoom out into the realm of management. Herzog has to consider countless factors to keep the peace and keep people, and maintain high morale over such a long period of time. Sports. Hobbies. Entertainment. Even sexual companions and prostitutes were brought into the area. All are considered ways to keep morale up and the cameras rolling.

As a recommendation from the local priest, Herzog segregates the native Amazon workers and actors' quarters from the foreign crew. Allowing the natives to live their way and the non-native cast and crew to avoid conflict or unwanted influence. It is an interesting choice and one that today might be viewed as controversial. Still, it offers insight into the realities of managing a production under extreme circumstances.

Despite Herzog's efforts, the jungle keeps winning. Mud. Delays. Tension in the village. The harsh reality of the Amazon is never-ending.

As we reach a close, the boat has to go over the hill, a reality that is proving almost impossible. The ground is raw and undeveloped. The tools are rudimentary. And most importantly, the lives of the crew and actors are at risk. Some of the locals fear people will die. Watching it unfold, I understood why. Even knowing the outcome, there were moments when I was genuinely nervous.

By the end, doubt has crept in, and Herzog goes dark. He speaks of suffering, death, and what he sees as the unfinished creation of God when referring to the Amazon. He no longer sees harmony in nature, and he clearly isn't happy. The romantic obsession of his dream that may have existed at the beginning of the project has faded.

In a closing interview, he confesses his discontent. People have suffered. Some have died. The production has taken its toll, and he promises he will never be satisfied. He seems willing to carry the burden of this experience for the rest of his life.

It's a profoundly insightful ending and one of the reasons Burden of Dreams stands as one of the most fascinating documentaries ever made about filmmaking.

Rating: 9/10

Aileen: Queen of the Serial Killers – A Documentary That Haunts and Inspires

2026-03-29T14:26:00.002-04:00

If you’re a documentary fan like me, Aileen: Queen of the Serial Killers is the kind of film that hits a sweet spot between meticulous research and cinematic storytelling. Someone has unlocked a golden trove of archive footage, capturing moments from the past that words alone cannot convey. This is the kind of documentary you must watch to truly appreciate.

The story centers on Aileen Wuornos, a small, spunky blonde woman who killed seven men. Slowly, the film unfolds the circumstances of her murders, revealing the dark and complex world she navigated while working as a prostitute in Florida. Unlike typical narratives where the prostitute is the victim, here, the men are—and yet, in some moments, I found myself feeling a strange empathy for them. The film flips the script in ways that are unsettling and thought-provoking, showing the dangerous temptations and moral complexities along a roadside encounter.

What makes this film exceptional is the sheer depth of archive footage from the 1970s and 1980s, paired with candid, on-camera testimony. Historical sound bites provide context, and a few contemporary interviews fill in the narrative, creating a rich tapestry of perspectives. For any documentary filmmaker, this is a dream: access to this much material and the ability to shape it into a story that’s both truthful and gripping.

The documentary also explores the political and legal landscape surrounding Aileen’s story—maneuvers by district attorneys, manipulation of the justice system, and the public release of her story to television audiences. Her character is deconstructed in the media before she is proven guilty, highlighting the tragic consequences of her life choices and the societal forces acting upon her. Killing men who raped her while working as a prostitute casts her in a morally complex light, ultimately making the story both horrifying and heartbreaking.

For me, as someone who has always dreamed of having access to this level of archival material and a production budget to capture the sound and detail, this documentary is a masterclass. Good, bad, ugly—it’s a powerful example of dogmatic documentary filmmaking at its finest.

Film Details

Title: Aileen: Queen of the Serial Killers
Director: Emily Turner
Stars: Aileen Wuornos, Steve Binegar, Jasmine Hirst
Synopsis: Aileen Wuornos killed seven men while working as a prostitute in Florida (1989–1990), claiming self-defense against rape.

Elway by directors Ken Rodgers & Chris Weaver

2026-03-08T17:52:00.006-04:00

Netflix’s documentary Elway is more than just another NFL retrospective. It is a deeply personal and emotional portrait of a player who spent most of his career chasing the one thing that always seemed just out of reach: a Super Bowl victory.

The film begins at the very start of John Elway’s football journey. We see flashes of his early career in high school and college, including one of the most unforgettable moments in college football history. Stanford’s heartbreaking loss to California in the final seconds, when players famously ran through the Stanford band in the end zone, sets the stage for what would become a career defined by perseverance, frustration, and ultimately redemption.

Watching the documentary on a Sunday had a nostalgic feel that reminded me of the classic NFL Films broadcasts that used to define Sundays. As the story moves into Elway’s NFL career, we see the powerful plays and iconic moments that made the league what it is today. But what makes this film stand out is not just the football.

The documentary weaves in the personal threads that shaped Elway’s life. The support of his wife, the influence of his father, and the honest vulnerability Elway shows on camera bring a deeper emotional layer to the story. His transparency makes the film feel less like a highlight reel and more like a reflection on the personal cost of greatness.

In one of the film’s most poetic moments, Elway’s final game is mirrored with the closing scene of a classic John Wayne western. Elway defeats a coach he struggled with for years, finally walks away with a championship, and, like Wayne riding off into the sunset, exits the game on his own terms.

But life rarely follows the clean endings we see in movies.

After retirement, Elway faces profound personal loss. The deaths of his father and sister weigh heavily on him, and the film does not shy away from the emotional impact those moments had on his life. There are real tears here, and they remind us that even legendary careers cannot shield someone from the hardships of life.

By the end of the film, you find yourself rooting for Elway not just as a football player, but as a person. He becomes one of those classic American figures who endured the struggle, carried the burden of expectation, and eventually earned the ending that once seemed impossible.

For sports fans and documentary lovers alike, Elway is a reminder that the greatest victories are often the ones that take the longest to reach.

The Search for Space Themed Documentaries for Melbourne Independent Filmmakers Festival (MIFF)

2026-03-08T08:35:00.004-04:00

I was recently given the honor of being selected as the Chief Curator of Documentaries at the Melbourne Independent Filmmakers Festival in Melbourne, Florida. This year, we have a category for space-themed documentary films, and the process has sent me on a search for great documentaries that revolve around this idea.

To help uncover new ideas and content, I began exploring projects on one of my favorite video platforms, Vimeo. What I have discovered has been inspiring and interesting to say the least. I thought I would post some of my favorites here for your viewing pleasure.

Space Chasers (Trailers)

We Are Dead Stars

Beyond The Launch

Searching for Skylab Trailer

Red Mecca

*Please comment if you enjoy this post, and share your work or how you discover great alternative films.

The Grind: Boardercross, Olympic Dreams, a 30 minute documentary now streaming globally on Amazon Prime.

2026-02-26T10:55:00.006-05:00

This past year, I completed production on The Grind, a 30-minute feature profile of USA boardercross athlete and Olympian Jake Vedder. What began as a branded digital series evolved into a cinematic, character-driven documentary capturing the physical, mental, and emotional demands of competing at the highest level of snowboard cross while pursuing a return to the Olympic stage in 2026.

Produced in collaboration with Milk Means More, the United Dairy Industry of Michigan, and Brandfly Studios, the original concept was to document Jake’s training camp in New Hampshire and offer a snapshot of the preparation required for the FIS World Cup season. As production unfolded, it became clear there was a deeper story to tell, one rooted not just in performance, but in perseverance.

Filming at Waterville Valley Resort in New Hampshire presented immediate challenges. Over three days, our small crew battled frozen rain, brutal winds, and subzero temperatures. Each morning meant hiking the mountain with camera gear through ice and deep snow to capture Jake training in unforgiving conditions. The environment tested both the athlete and the filmmakers alike. The resulting footage, however, delivered raw, cinematic visuals that grounded the film in authenticity and grit.

Following New Hampshire, production shifted to Jake’s hometown of Pinckney, Michigan. There, we explored the foundation of his journey from small-town athlete to Olympian. We filmed in his high school, documented his training regimen, and spent time with the community that helped shape his competitive mindset. These sequences provide emotional depth and context, contrasting the isolation of the mountain with the support system behind his pursuit of excellence.

Working closely with Brandfly Studios, we crafted a narrative arc that moves from the physical grind of climbing the mountain to the psychological resilience required to chase an Olympic dream. While the partnership with Milk Means More remains integral to the story, the film stands as a broader meditation on discipline, sacrifice, and belief.

Released in fall 2025, the project launched in the USA, UK, France, Spain, Italy, Japan, Canada, Australia, Netherlands, Germany, Sweden, Mexico, Poland, and India on Amazon Prime. Be sure to watch, and please write a review if you get a chance.

Links to regions:

United Kingdom (Prime & TVOD): https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/video/detail/B0GN2JV26L/ref=atv_sr_fle_c_sr08ff8a_1_1_1?sr=1-1&pageTypeIdSource=ASIN&pageTypeId=B0GN2YGLQV&qid=1771824319855

United States: (TVOD): https://www.amazon.com/gp/video/detail/B0GN2XK2DK/ref=atv_sr_fle_c_sr52cdbe_1_1_1?sr=1-1&pageTypeIdSource=ASIN&pageTypeId=B0GN2YZNXP&qid=1771824337000

France: (Prime): https://www.primevideo.com/region/eu/detail/0P6HYPP43DHJ9GA78YJ1B8SP9Z/ref=dvm_src_ret_fr_xx_s

Italy: (Prime): https://www.primevideo.com/region/eu/detail/0P6HYPP43DHJ9GA78YJ1B8SP9Z/ref=dvm_src_ret_it_xx_s

Spain: (Prime): https://www.primevideo.com/region/eu/detail/0P6HYPP43DHJ9GA78YJ1B8SP9Z/ref=dvm_src_ret_es_xx_s

Japan: (TVOD): https://www.amazon.co.jp/-/en/gp/video/detail/B0GN2M78VZ/ref=atv_sr_fle_c_Tn74RA_1_1_1?sr=1-1&pageTypeIdSource=ASIN&pageTypeId=B0GN2PZ91S&qid=1771824391814

Canada: https://www.primevideo.com/region/eu/detail/0P6HYPP43DHJ9GA78YJ1B8SP9Z/ref=dvm_src_ret_ca_xx_s

Australia: https://www.primevideo.com/region/eu/detail/0P6HYPP43DHJ9GA78YJ1B8SP9Z/ref=dvm_src_ret_au_xx_s

Netherlands: https://www.primevideo.com/region/eu/detail/0P6HYPP43DHJ9GA78YJ1B8SP9Z/ref=dvm_src_ret_nl_xx_s

Germany: https://www.amazon.de/-/en/gp/video/detail/B0GN27M98Z/ref=atv_sr_fle_c_Tn74RA_1_1_1?sr=1-1&pageTypeIdSource=ASIN&pageTypeId=B0GN2DSR3L&qid=1771824400348

Sweden: https://www.primevideo.com/region/eu/detail/0P6HYPP43DHJ9GA78YJ1B8SP9Z/ref=dvm_src_ret_se_xx_s

Mexico: https://www.primevideo.com/region/eu/detail/0P6HYPP43DHJ9GA78YJ1B8SP9Z/ref=dvm_src_ret_mx_xx_s

The Bull by Eric Ebner

2026-02-14T16:33:00.000-05:00

The Bull by Eric Ebner is a snapshot of a life most people only flirt with.

At the edge of Baja California, in a secret stretch of coastline hundreds of miles from convenience, Glen Horn has carved out a world that is entirely his own. Not a vacation. Not a sabbatical. A life.

I once brushed up against that same possibility.

I spent 30 days driving that coast, surfing its breaks, waking to wind and salt and endless horizon. There is a purity to it that feels almost mythic. You measure your days by swell direction and light. You fall asleep exhausted in the best way. You begin to wonder why anyone would choose anything else.

But I also know the other side.

The wind that never seems to stop. The sand that works its way into every zipper, every lens, every seam of your clothes. The mechanical breakdowns. The long silences. The kind of isolation that can either refine you or undo you. The romance is real, but so are the elements.

What Glen has done is different. He did not visit this life. He redirected his entire existence toward it. Through the good and the bad, he chose it fully. That commitment is what makes The Bull resonate. It is not a film about escape. It is about permanence.

There is something quietly radical about that.

As a filmmaker, I was equally struck by the intimacy captured on screen. Finding a subject like Glen is rare. Earning the trust to film him in his element is even rarer. You cannot manufacture that kind of access. It requires patience, humility, and instinct.

In digging deeper into the story behind the film, I learned how the filmmaker first encountered Glen during a long journey through Mexico. It was not a planned production. It was a moment discovered. Recognized. Documented. Then carried forward until the time was right to shape it into a finished piece.

That creative instinct is one I know well.

On two separate occasions, I have driven from the tip of Mexico into Central America. I have sailed the Baja. I have stumbled upon stories that revealed themselves slowly, almost accidentally. You feel something shift in the air. You pull out the camera. You capture what you can. You trust that one day it will find its form.

There is a deep connection there that I appreciate.

The Bull feels like a rare escape preserved on film. A season of life that most people experience briefly, if at all. Watching it brought back that same ache I felt when my own Baja chapter came to an end. The understanding that some freedoms are not meant to last forever. They shape you, then release you.

For Glen, that season continues.

Below, I am sharing the films of this filmmaker alongside my own work. I hope you enjoy them. And if you have ever felt the pull of an open coastline and wondered what would happen if you never turned back, this story will stay with you.

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The Bull: The Surf Legend Who Walked Away From Everything (full documentary)

The Surf Trip that Changed My Life: Baja California, Mexico (Behind the scenes)

BROTHERS FROM BAJA: A SURF STORY (Personal story)

Citizenfour, directed by Laura Poitras

2026-02-08T05:22:00.005-05:00

2014’s Academy Award-winning documentary Citizenfour, directed by Laura Poitras, follows Poitras and journalist Glenn Greenwald as they travel to Hong Kong for the first of many meetings with Edward Snowden, a former NSA contractor who is about to expose the scope of the American national security surveillance state.

From the opening moments, Citizenfour feels dystopic, mysterious, and dark. It feels conspiratorial in tone, which is often the very atmosphere used to dismiss the credibility of stories like this. But that mood is not manufactured for drama. It reflects the very real breach of justice and abuse of power by American government agencies that Snowden is revealing and the risk he is taking by doing so.

Snowden gives us our first real look at the level of surveillance that has now become normalized. The film documents the birth of what we now call "self policing" or censoring yourself for fear of ending up “on a list,” and the growing awareness that metadata paints a detailed picture of who you are, without actually knowing who you are or having more justification for tracking you.

The film also captures the birthplace of American paranoia in the realization that we're all being watched by Big Brother. That paranoia over the past decade has put conspiracy culture on steroids. When people know they are being watched, their behavior changes. Speech changes. Thought changes. That may be one of the most lasting impacts of what Snowden revealed.

Amazing to me is the lack of public revolt. There are hearings. There is outrage for a moment. Then the world moves on. For something this massive, the response feels incredibly small.

There is also a powerful story of journalism here. Real investigative journalism. The kind we rarely see anymore. The Guardian is visibly scared of going up against the U.S. security state. Journalists are risking their own freedoms to publish this information. The enormous power and influence of global governments become impossible to ignore.

What makes Snowden’s story so heavy is what he gives up. He sacrifices his entire world for what he believes is right. His life is effectively destroyed. He cannot return to the United States, visit his family freely, or fully experience his own culture. The message to future whistleblowers is painfully clear. Speak out and lose everything.

So what protection do we actually have? That question hangs over the entire film and goes unanswered.

I am a fan of Snowden. Team USA is only great if it remains true to its ideals. Citizenfour is not just a portrait of a whistleblower. It is a mirror held up to a country that must decide whether security is worth the cost of freedom, or will it continue to be lulled to sleep by compliance and complacency.

Interview with Director Topher Cochran and Chasing Bubbles

2026-02-07T07:46:00.003-05:00

As a documentary filmmaker, I know how hard it is to assemble thousands of hours of video and photographs into a cohesive story. It requires focus, a deep reliance on personal memory, and a commitment to finding the best moments from everything that was captured in order to drive the narrative. It also requires an enormous amount of time and emotional investment.

I also know what it means to travel with a kind of reckless abandon, living on the edge of society in search of yourself, like the hero in Chasing Bubbles. That personal connection is what made Chasing Bubbles hit especially close to home for me, and the combination of both skills turns this into a rare interview for our podcast.

The film is directed by Topher Cochran and tells the story of Alex Rust, a farm boy turned day trader from Indiana who, at just 25, walked away from his yuppie life in Chicago. He bought a modest sailboat and set out to sail around the world, learning as he went and documenting his journey with honesty, curiosity, and humor.

There is a tragic end to Alex’s story. Fortunately, I did not meet the same fate in my own adventures, but watching this film, I felt like I could have been him. I could also see myself as a documentary filmmaker who had to shape this massive archive into a meaningful story. I'd done a little of both in my film, Reaching Reality, and it is what drew me to this film project.

This interview and this film were a special moment for me. If you are drawn to stories of self-discovery, risk, and the deep personal cost and reward of choosing an unconventional path, I think you will truly enjoy Chasing Bubbles.

See film review and trailer here: Chasing Bubbles on Doc This Reviews

The Inventor: Out for Blood in Silicon Valley, directed by Alex Gibney

2026-02-01T09:16:00.005-05:00

The Inventor: Out for Blood in Silicon Valley, directed by Alex Gibney, is an intriguing documentary into the mind of an inventor and what it takes to go into the unknown, find something before it exists, recruit people to invest in it, and chase after it relentlessly. It is about believing in something that might be unbelievable, unprovable, or even undoable.

The film tells the story of Theranos, a multi-billion-dollar tech company, and its founder, Elizabeth Holmes, who was celebrated as the youngest self-made female billionaire. That context matters because it shows how big the belief system became around her and the company.

The intro begins to break down the mind of an inventor, establishing the inventor entrepreneur as the hero. The film frames that identity early, setting up the idea that the inventor is someone who sees what others cannot and is willing to take risks that most people will not.

By the second act, there are hints in interviews that maybe everything is not as it seems. Small cracks begin to show. The story starts to suggest that what we are being told and what is actually happening may not line up.

What I found interesting was that while this person was clearly flawed, the hunger of her followers to have a woman hero of Silicon Valley blinds them to reality. It becomes clear that identity starts to surpass competence or reality. As the science starts to come down, it becomes more and more clear that things are not as they seem, but at the core of the institution, that reality is being overlooked.

The capacity for humans to lie or manipulate reality and the lengths they will go to feels profound. It makes you wonder if geniuses are sometimes just people willing to lie to themselves so deeply that they no longer recognize it.

At its core, the film exposes the dangers of humans becoming hypnotized. We overlook things. We see what we want to see. In that space, we often want to believe something more than see it for what it is. I myself thought, maybe she can do it. Maybe she is a genius or maybe she is a sociopath?

The Inventor: Out for Blood in Silicon Valley becomes less about technology and more about belief, identity, and how easily people can be pulled into a story that feels bigger than the truth.

Melania: Twenty Days to History by Brett Ratner

2026-01-31T22:15:00.004-05:00

I watched the documentary Melania tonight in the theater with about 15 other people. One guy walked in wearing a hat that read “Gulf of America.” I knew right away I was among Trumpers.

The film was entertaining. It leaned heavily into propaganda, fashion, and behind-the-scenes access to the life orbiting Donald Trump. It played more like a visual scrapbook of a First Lady’s life. Like her or hate her, Melania Trump is attractive, she has undeniable style, and she knows how to hold presence, especially now in the second term.

One of my first criticisms came right out of the gate. The opening line suggested that this story was being told because “everybody wants to know.” That immediately felt hollow. Not everybody wants to know, and that framing came across as a little egocentric.

The luxury of the Trump lifestyle is not very relatable, either. The film does not aggressively rub wealth in your face, but it is always present. I would be lying if I said a part of me did not wish I had access to some of that level of comfort and privilege.

As a positive, there were moments where I found myself connecting in small ways and laughing at her and Trump. Trump is undeniably funny. If you disagree, you're lying; he just is.

Technically, a number of shots were out of focus, and not in an intentional rack focus way. They were just soft, and that was distracting. For a film of this profile, it stood out more than it should have.

From a storytelling standpoint, I wanted more depth. More backstory. More history. More insight into the struggle. But the film never really builds a strong narrative arc. It feels mostly flat. You walk in knowing what you know, and you walk out without many new revelations. For a documentary that feels like a missed opportunity.

Politics aside, it was still an interesting look into a fashion-forward First Lady figure and a carefully curated public persona. She seems approachable. She seems intentional. I don't, not like her. It functions more as an access piece than an investigative or emotionally revealing portrait.

I would give the film a 6.5 out of 10.

Empty America: COVID 19 and the War for Right by Barry Walton

2026-01-29T05:21:00.003-05:00

Empty America, a short documentary by Barry Walton, captures a haunting snapshot of the United States during the height of COVID. Told through the point of view of a lone driver beginning in California, the film unfolds as a road trip across a nation brought to a standstill.

Through a mix of time-lapse photography, aerial drone footage, and organic handheld shots, the film presents striking images of emptiness. Closed beaches. Locked parks. Frozen construction zones. COVID warning signs. Times Square without crowds. The National Mall is absent of visitors. Familiar American landmarks become symbols of a country on pause.

What sets Empty America apart is its use of regional AM and FM radio sound bites layered over the visuals. These fragmented broadcasts ground the film in the political, cultural, and emotional noise of the moment, creating a powerful contrast between silence on the streets and chaos on the airwaves.

Beyond documenting the pandemic, the film has undertones of deeper themes of collectivism, centralized decision-making, and the weight of bureaucracy. Religious sound bites from old school preachers close out the piece with moral warnings suggesting a broader reflection on where society is headed, leaving viewers to question the cost of compliance and whether the crisis could have been handled differently.

Empty America has won 18 film festival Best Documentary Short awards, including Mindfield Film Festival, Golden Wheat Awards, Cooper Awards, Only the Best Awards, American Golden Picture Film Festival, and Florence Film Awards, quickly establishing itself as a rising presence on the festival circuit.

Director Barry Walton, a working-class filmmaker with over 20 years in the industry and an Emmy to his name, takes a grassroots approach to distribution, building momentum through smaller festivals and inviting the industry to take notice.

More than a documentary, Empty America functions as a time capsule. It captures a version of the country few ever witnessed firsthand and asks a lingering question. How did we get here, and what is the road back home?

Today, Walton is expanding the project into a short novel based on the experience. The book will explore the passage, intent, and motivation behind the film, examining American history, technology, media, marketing, and the forces that shaped this moment. The novel is positioned as a compelling reflection on who we are as Americans and is expected to be released in 2030.

Empty America is not just a documentary. It is a mirror held up to a nation in crisis, a record of silence, fear, and reflection, and a reminder of a moment that reshaped how America sees itself.

Oscar Boyson ~ The Future of Cities

2026-01-27T18:38:00.005-05:00

I had the chance to sit down for a podcast conversation with Oscar Boyson about his film, The Future of Cities. Oscar got his break working with the well-known YouTuber Casey Neistat. As his videographer and editor, Oscar worked at a fast pace, made compromises along the way, and learned a great deal from the experience.

In this interview, we talk about his time working with Casey and his transition into filmmaking. We also discuss The Future of Cities, a focused and visually restrained documentary that explores how urban environments are evolving in response to growth, technology, sustainability, and social change. Rather than positioning cities as broken systems, the film presents them as living organisms shaped by design, policy, and human behavior.

Being Eddie directed by Angus Wall on Netflix

2026-01-20T11:20:00.002-05:00

I recently watched Being Eddie, the 2025 biographical documentary streaming on Netflix, directed by Angus Wall, and it captures one of my favorite film actors of all time. The film chronicles the life, rise, and long career of Eddie Murphy, a once-in-a-generation comedic force whose presence on camera helped define an era of American entertainment.

At its core, Being Eddie is an interesting look into celebrity. Not just fame, but the machinery around it, the mythology of it, and the toll it takes on the person inside the image. The documentary revisits Eddie Murphy’s meteoric ascent from a teenage stand-up comic performing in New York clubs at 17, to joining Saturday Night Live straight out of high school, to becoming a comedy supernova and eventually a Hollywood icon spanning nearly five decades.

The film is full of highs and lows. Structurally, it is not a particularly strong story. But the celebrity of Eddie Murphy is deep enough, rich enough, and culturally important enough that you want to keep watching. His experiences, his moments in the limelight, his purity as an entertainer, his laugh, his smile, and his inspirations, particularly Richard Pryor, are fascinating to revisit. The highlights of his time on Saturday Night Live, and the momentum that carried him directly into film, remind you how miraculous the rise of someone like Eddie really was.

I, too, dreamed of becoming famous. As a case study, I’m always amazed by the people who actually make it. They seem to possess something internal and undefinable. Maybe it’s the command of the camera. Maybe it’s the control of an audience. Maybe it’s timing. Most likely, it’s all three. Beverly Hills Cop and Coming to America stand out as moments where those elements aligned perfectly. Eddie had total command, and he became one of the first Black men to truly cross into what Hollywood long considered a “white world,” whether we like that phrasing or not.

The documentary features candid interviews with Eddie Murphy himself, along with reflections from peers and collaborators including Dave Chappelle, Chris Rock, Jamie Foxx, Kevin Hart, Jerry Seinfeld, Tracee Ellis Ross, Jerry Bruckheimer, and Brian Grazer. These voices reinforce his influence across generations and genres, from comedy and action to animation and drama. There is no denying his legacy.

Where the film loses me is in its narrative framing of struggle.

The one piece I strongly criticize is that Eddie Murphy leans into a familiar posture I see repeated across many modern celebrity documentaries. The insistence on casting every hardship through the lens of racial grievance, and then projecting that struggle outward as if it belongs to all of us to carry the blame for. For a Black man to reach Eddie’s level of global fame requires breaking through an oligarchy of wealth and power. That same oligarchy exists for everyone. While Black Americans historically faced greater barriers, which is undeniable, the narrative that contemporary society is still collectively holding black people back feels increasingly disconnected from lived reality.

At times, the film feels like it loses the plot.

Racism is real. It affects people differently. It sucks at some level for everybody. But the repetition of grievance without resolution, without recognition of progress, and without grounding in the present, begins to feel less like illumination and more like division. It fuels a cycle of villainization and victimhood that we seem unable to exit.

Structurally, Being Eddie also struggles with pacing. Too much time is spent inside Eddie’s high-end home, which creates emotional distance rather than intimacy. He feels distant and untouchable. Historically, what made Eddie Murphy so attractive was how relatable and accessible he felt. Here, he sometimes feels like he’s performing himself rather than revealing himself.

There is also a lack of archival depth. Films like Arnold succeed because they dig deeper, allowing raw material to speak for itself. Being Eddie feels warmer, more polished, and more celebratory, but also safer than it should be. Eddie occasionally feels like he’s putting on airs, and that distance dulls the emotional impact.

And yet, I loved it. And I hated it.

I love Eddie Murphy. He is incredibly talented. He deserves an Oscar. I also feel exhausted by the same narrative being woven again and again in project after project. In some ways, Eddie has become a version of what he once pushed against. That may be the cost of success. Or the cost of survival inside fame.

The closure to identity politics and the so-called color wars is not an endless rehashing of pain. It is acknowledging how far we’ve come while still demanding better. Without that balance, we remain trapped in cycles of resentment rather than progress.

Eddie, you’re better than this.

Being Eddie is warm, nostalgic, celebratory, and often very funny. It is also flawed, distant, and at times frustrating. That tension may be honest. Or it may be avoidance.

One thumb up.
One thumb down.

Cover-Up by Laura Poitras with Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative reporter Seymour Hersh

2026-01-18T07:33:00.006-05:00

What I love most about Cover-Up, directed by Laura Poitras, is the access it provides to an extraordinarily rare individual, Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative reporter Seymour Hersh. A longtime New York Times journalist, author, and whistleblower advocate, Seymour has built his career on exposing power at great personal cost. The behind-the-scenes moments reveal a subject who clearly has a deep, earned relationship with the crew, one built on trust rather than transaction. You can feel that this access exists only because of that bond. Seymour has repeatedly turned down funding and professional growth for the truth, refusing institutional paths that might have softened or silenced his reporting. That conviction is deeply compelling. His fear of power, mistrust of systems, and guarded relationship with people felt honest and human, and it immediately drew me in.

As the hero of the film, Seymour, spends his life building a career around a single guiding principle: telling the truth no matter the consequences. In that pursuit, he uncovers some of the most consequential stories of our time, including covered-up tragedies in Vietnam, the misuse of power by former American presidents, the CIA, FBI (including Richard Nixon and Kissinger), and the ongoing crisis unfolding in Israel and Palestine as we speak. These are stories Americans are curious about, but that power would rather they forget. They are also stories that only a small number of individuals are willing to bring into the light, knowing the professional, legal, and personal risks involved. The film serves as a reminder that journalism at its best is not about access, influence, or growth, but about responsibility.

Cover-Up may be one of my favorite biographical documentaries. The level of access reminded me of what I felt watching Billy Corbin’s Cocaine Cowboys and 30 for 30: The Two Escobars. That kind of intimacy is rare, and speaking from experience, it is incredibly difficult to achieve. When filmmakers are allowed to look directly into a life like this, it should never be taken for granted.

In the closing moments of the film, something unexpected happens. As the documentary moves into subjects Seymour is not comfortable discussing, the film team had gotten access to sources the leak info to Seymour, and he breaks character. The man who has spent his entire life exposing power suddenly becomes unwilling to have his own life exposed. You can see it touch a nerve. He shuts down. That moment is striking in its irony. My instinct was to want to protect him, to shield a man who has done so much good in telling difficult truths. But I also wondered if that instinct was misplaced. Journalism has been his profession, and that profession has placed countless others into the spotlight, often unwillingly. Watching that moment forced me to question whether he should be more comfortable with the process, or whether that discomfort is precisely what makes him who he is.

My Octopus Teacher by Pippa Ehrlich and James Reed

2026-01-16T06:46:00.006-05:00

The documentary My Octopus Teacher is one of the most unique films I have seen in the past decade, if not my entire life. At its core, the film is about relationships. Not just between a man and an octopus, but between a human being and the natural world he had quietly drifted away from. Directed by Pippa Ehrlich and James Reed, the film begins as a personal reset. Burned out and disconnected, Foster turns back to the sea near his home in South Africa, a place that once grounded him. What follows feels almost impossible. Through patience, repetition, and respect, he slowly builds trust with a wild octopus. Watching that connection form feels less like observation and more like witnessing first contact. It is intimate, strange, and deeply human.

What also makes the film so powerful, and almost hypnotic, is the narration and storytelling itself. Craig Foster has a way of telling this story that allows you to completely disappear inside it. There is no sense of performance or over-explanation, only reflection. For anyone who works in documentary filmmaking, this is the magic sauce. The ability to guide an audience through a deeply personal experience with a fluidity of conversation that you'd have with someone you've known forever. I have long admired and aspired to that kind of fluid, honest storytelling, and Foster assembles his narrative with a quiet confidence that feels nearly seamless. The story unfolds naturally, like a conversation rather than a script.

The film then pulls us beneath the surface into a daily ritual of free diving in the frigid waters of False Bay. I know this environment well. I lived in central California for nearly a decade and spent years swimming and diving in the cold Pacific among kelp forests. That water is unforgiving. The idea that Foster committed himself to these dives every single day, without a wetsuit, purely to observe and learn, speaks volumes about his dedication. That commitment pays off in astonishing ways. The footage reveals an intelligence and awareness in the octopus that challenges how we think about sea life altogether. Its ability to camouflage, problem solve, and interact with its environment forces uncomfortable questions about consciousness and our relationship to the creatures we so casually consume.

By the end of My Octopus Teacher, you are no longer just watching Craig Foster’s relationship with the octopus. You have developed one yourself. The octopus becomes a presence, almost like family, and when nature inevitably cycles through life and death, the loss feels real. What lingers is not sadness, but curiosity. A feeling that maybe we can be more connected to the natural world than we allow ourselves to be. My Octopus Teacher is not simply a nature documentary. It is a reminder that wonder still exists, and that sometimes the most profound relationships are waiting just beneath the surface.

Restrepo a film by director Sebastian Junger and cinematographer Tim Hetherington

2026-01-15T06:57:00.003-05:00

There is a documentary called Restrepo, and it has stayed with me for years. It is a wartime snapshot of the conditions U.S. troops endured while traversing Afghanistan in the years following 9/11, tasked with hunting terrorist cells and confronting an enemy that was often invisible and undefined. What moved me most was how deeply the filmmakers embedded themselves within a single platoon. This was not coverage from a distance. It was lived experience. As someone who once dreamed of becoming a war journalist but never found that path, watching this firsthand account was both thrilling and sobering. You feel the adrenaline, the fear, and the exhaustion, but you are also forced to confront the larger, harder questions. Why were we there? Who exactly was the enemy? And what does victory even look like in a place like this?

The interviews, shot after the soldiers returned home, are burned into my memory. Framed against a black background in a dark room, they feel like confessions rather than commentary. There is no spectacle, no dramatic flourish, just faces carrying the weight of what they experienced. That approach deeply influenced how I think about documentary interviews and how close a camera should be allowed to get. Restrepo reinforced my belief that the most powerful stories emerge when you create a space where people feel safe enough to speak honestly about the human cost of their experiences.

I hold a high regard for both the director Sebastian Junger and his partner and cinematographer Tim Hetherington. Hetherington later lost his life in 2011 while covering the Libyan civil war, killed by shrapnel during a mortar attack in Misrata. His death is a sobering reminder of the risks carried by journalists who choose to stand closest to the truth. His work was never about spectacle, only about humanity, dignity, and bearing witness. My deepest respect and condolences remain with his family, friends, and colleagues. If you get the chance to watch Restrepo, I highly recommend it, not because it explains war, but because it refuses to simplify it.

Reaching Reality a film by Barry Walton

2026-01-14T09:28:00.005-05:00

Reaching Reality is less about the pursuit of perfect waves and more about the quiet, often uncelebrated work of turning a dream into something lived. On the surface, the film follows three friends who sail a 24-foot boat from San Francisco to Cabo San Lucas, battling weather, fatigue, and uncertainty while searching seven islands for untouched surf and barren beaches. Beneath that narrative, however, is a deeper meditation on commitment, risk, and the fragile balance between ambition and reality when the ocean becomes both companion and adversary.

What makes Reaching Reality resonate is its understanding of scale. These are not world record-breaking feats or headline-grabbing achievements, yet the emotional weight of each small victory feels enormous. The film taps into a universal memory of those moments that may look insignificant from the outside but feel monumental to the person experiencing them. Standing on a wave for a few fleeting seconds or safely reaching a remote shoreline becomes a reminder that meaning is not measured by recognition, but by personal fulfillment.

Reaching Reality also reflects on the narrow window society allows for passion before expectation and responsibility begin to close in. The voyage itself happened years before the film was completed, and that distance adds an unexpected layer of honesty. The documentary becomes as much about revisiting a former version of oneself as it is about the journey at sea. The long arc of the project mirrors its message, that worthwhile things often take time, patience, and a willingness to endure doubt both from others and from within.

By the time the film reaches its conclusion, Reaching Reality feels like an argument for honoring the pursuits that matter to you, even when they carry little social currency. It celebrates the kind of joy that does not ask for permission or applause. In doing so, the film reminds us that following what feels big to us, no matter how small it may appear to the world, is not indulgent but essential.

Trailer: