One could ask how much Time grapples with the legitimate wrongdoing of the Rich parents, but Bradley does not give much credence to the question, because to do so would legitimize the system that, in doling out sentences so severe, ignores the humanity of the perpetrators in the first place. Her dogged attempts to break through to an uncaring bureaucracy are crushing in and of themselves, but the mannered composure with which she takes denial after denial builds a remarkable portrait of strength and resolution. Hope and despair constitute the vacillating emotions of Garrett Bradley’s Time, a lyrical look at Sibil “Fox” Rich’s efforts to free her husband from the Louisiana prison where he serves 60 years for a botched bank robbery, as his sons grow up without a father in the home (Fox herself served a few years for aiding in the crime). The result is a film that scrutinizes the ultimate purpose of truth-only to come up with a gorgeously rendered shrug. Yet Polley conceals and reveals information-starting with her relationships to her interview subjects-in such an effortless way as to constantly surprise, even shock, her audience without leaning into revelations for the sake of them. The central mystery to her documentary-that the man she grew up believing to be her dad is not her biological father-is public knowledge at this point, easily revealed in the film’s trailer and associated marketing. With Stories We Tell, actress-turned-director Sarah Polley has proven herself a consummate filmmaker, transforming an incredible (and incredibly) personal story into a playful yet profound investigation of the nature of storytelling itself. There’s no interpreter, no one to explain Baldwin but Baldwin-and this is how it should be. The pleasure of sitting with Baldwin’s words, and his words alone, is exquisite. His decision to steer away from the usual documentary format, where respected minds comment on a subject, creates a sense of intimacy difficult to inspire in films like this. Peck could have done little else besides give us this feeling, placing us squarely in the presence of Baldwin, and I Am Not Your Negro would have likely still been a success. And so I Am Not Your Negro is not just a portrait of an artist, but a portrait of mourning-what it looks, sounds and feels like to lose friends, and to do so with the whole world watching (and with so much of America refusing to understand how it happened, and why it will keep happening). Baldwin’s overwhelming pain is as much the subject of the film as his intellect. All three black men were assassinated within five years of each other, and we learn in the film that Baldwin was not just concerned about these losses as terrible blows to the Civil Rights movement, but deeply cared for the wives and children of the men who were murdered. Raoul Peck focuses on James Baldwin’s unfinished book Remember This House, a work that would have memorialized three of his friends, Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X and Medgar Evers. Here are the 21 best documentaries streaming on Amazon Prime Video: The following list includes Oscar winners and some of our favorite documentaries of all time, films from celebrated directors like Jim Jarmusch, Sarah Polley and Steve James-all free to stream with your Prime membership. But there are some gems hidden among the dreck, and we’ve dug deep to find them for you. Many of our favorite docs that used to be free for Prime members are now part of additional subscriptions like Doc Club, Sundance Now and Topic. Amazon Prime’s “Documentary” selection, like much of the retail giant’s movie library, can be overwhelming to browse, with plenty of low-budget, slapped-together fare.
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