Documentary Films and Programs

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      ‘Food and Country’ Offers a Close Look at How America Feeds Itself

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      “Food and Country” argues that our food production systems don’t work and offers potential solutions.In the early days of the pandemic, I accidentally ordered five chickens and three dozen giant, fragrant Amalfi Coast lemons. I thought I’d ordered one five-pound chicken and three lemons from a local restaurant supplier who’d had to quickly pivot to home cooks like me. But between my frazzled, stressed brain and their usual order quantities, wires got crossed.It worked out fine — we just roasted a lot of chicken and made delicious limoncello — but I found myself thinking about that blurry, confusing time while watching “Food and Country” (in theaters), a new documentary about all the ways that America’s food systems are broken and all the ways they can be fixed. Directed by Laura Gabbert, the film finds its guide in Ruth Reichl, the eminent food writer (and former New York Times restaurant critic). She is one of the nation’s most curious and well-connected voices on food, and she spends a lot of the movie speaking with growers, farmers, ranchers and restaurateurs in those familiar little Zoom windows.It turns out the pandemic was the right impetus for this film. For many Americans, used to picking up our groceries at the local supermarket, the disruption of, for example, deliveries and meat processing meant that items were available suddenly, sporadically or not at all. My five-chicken order was a result of realizing that my usual grocery delivery service was booked up for weeks and, as I was avoiding stores, that I needed to find another method of getting food.This was a very mild inconvenience, and it soon resolved itself. But experiences like this (along with sourdough-baking and scallion-growing fads) reminded many of us of what we take for granted. For those whose livelihoods depend on food production, though, cataclysm is always on the horizon. In this documentary Reichl explores with experts how our systems became broken over the postwar decades and, as several participants say, led to most farmers and ranchers barely breaking even while the big companies that process and distribute their products profited. She and her guests also cover a dizzying array of big issues: historic racism against Black farmers and the present-day ramifications; the plight of restaurant owners trying to stay afloat while treating workers fairly; farmers’ innovative efforts to bring sustainable, healthy crops to their communities.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      ‘Blink’ Review: The Last Things They May See

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      In this travel documentary, two parents take their children on a spectacular world tour before a rare genetic condition may cause blindness.“Blink” is almost shameless in its earnest simplicity: Two parents decide to take their family to see the world after finding out that three of their four children have a rare genetic condition that can lead to impaired vision. Tears may flow for you, too, in what could (positively) be called a weepie travel documentary from Edmund Stenson and Daniel Roher, who worked together on the Academy Award-winning film “Navalny.”Edith Lemay and Sébastien Pelletier wish for their children to store up visual memories for the future, even as night-vision problems have already set on. Accompanied by the film team for 76 days of their yearlong trip, the close-knit clan from Montreal fly and hike and hot-air-balloon and camel ride through Egypt, Thailand, Namibia and Nepal, among other places, including a fraught cable car ride in Ecuador.For Stenson and Roher, their film is also about a fear of loss more generally, as well as about growing up and leaving things behind, the fleeting nature of experience and parental anxieties around care and control. Detractors can cry “tourism” — the rock formations in White Desert National Park in Egypt are transporting — but “Blink” keeps escaping any pat framing to tap into a deeper ache.That’s accomplished by doing more with less when it comes to parental musings and kids saying the darnedest things. The directors also aren’t afraid to kick the 84-minute movie into a trot now and again. Life comes at you fast, after all, and “Blink” reminds us to look at each day as if it might be the last.BlinkRated PG. Running time: 1 hour 24 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘Intercepted’ Review: The Awful Intimacy of the War in Ukraine

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      In leaked phone calls home, Russian soldiers grapple with the war they’re waging. This new documentary sets the calls’ swagger and anguish against images of the invasion’s devastation.The voices of the offscreen Russian soldiers and their acquaintances in the powerful Ukraine-set documentary “Intercepted” are matter-of-fact, swaggering and anguished. “I tell you, they live better than us here,” a soldier tells a woman back home. “Right, look how the West supports them,” she says.Sometime later, another soldier explains to a different woman, “We were given the order to kill everyone we see” to protect Russia’s miliary positions. “I’m telling you, I’ve already seen a forest full of corpses, more than a cemetery.” He adds, “I said that I won’t kill anyone.”Not long after Russia invaded Ukraine on Feb. 24, 2022, and Russian troops started flooding into the country, their communications began leaking out, at times with dire consequences. Ham-radio operators and open-source groups began capturing unencrypted battlefield radio transmissions among Russian forces on the ground. Ukraine also intercepted more prosaic phone calls that Russian soldiers made to their families and friends, to their wives and mothers and children. The soldiers talked about how they were doing, what they’d seen, what their orders were and even disclosed their locations; some spoke about whom they had killed.You hear a number of these phone calls in “Intercepted,” which was directed by the Ukrainian-Canadian filmmaker Oksana Karpovych. In a director’s statement for the movie, Karpovych explains that she was working in Ukraine as a producer for the news network Al Jazeera when the invasion began. After the intercepted calls were publicly released, she and a crew of four — including her cinematographer, the British photographer Christopher Nunn — traveled across Ukraine gathering images of devastation, which she has juxtaposed with calls intercepted between March and November 2022. The result is a haunting, often jolting depiction of the profound toll that the war has exerted on soldiers and civilians alike.“Intercepted” is at once subtle and blunt. It opens on three children — one on a swing — next to an otherwise empty country road that stretches down the middle of the shot. It’s an outwardly ordinary, pacific tableaux. There are chalk marks scrawled on the road, a couple of bikes resting on the grass and a woman lingering off to the side. The trees are lush and green, and there are no obvious signs of war. At one point, a car in the distance slowly crosses the road. Karpovych then cuts to a closer shot of the kids, which allows you to see their faces more fully; I think that she wants you to remember them as you watch.That first country street leads to many more. The movie starts in the north and moves south and then west, a route that Karpovych has explained in interviews is meant to suggest the trajectory of the invasion. Using a mixture of vivid, precisely framed moving and still images, she takes you across the war-ravaged country. You travel down dirt and paved roads, some flanked by incinerated military vehicles, and into heavily bombed villages and cities. She also recurrently brings you into people’s homes, including some that look like they were hastily abandoned. In one, a carton of eggs still rests on a kitchen table amid a jumble of crockery, suggestive of an unfinished breakfast. In another house, a woman sweeps up shattered glass.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      ‘Patrice: The Movie’ Review: At a Crossroads

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      The emotional core of this crowd-pleasing documentary concerns a couple who cannot marry without jeopardizing their disability benefits.The title of “Patrice: The Movie” is a little misleading. Although this documentary, directed by Ted Passon, certainly offers a biographical portrait of Patrice Jetter, a school crossing guard, disability rights advocate and Special Olympics athlete from New Jersey, its emotional core concerns her relationship with Garry Wickham. Jetter and Wickham want to marry, but doing so — or even living together — could jeopardize their disability benefits.Their friend Elizabeth Dicker summarizes how this situation is not just cruel, but also apparently illogical: “If two people are having Medicaid benefits, and then those two people get married and then they just don’t lose their benefits, how is the government making or losing any money?” (“Patrice: The Movie” doesn’t delve into the policy specifics, but critics have argued that the limitations on Supplemental Security Income are badly out of date.)It is easy to root for Jetter and Wickham as a couple, and to see Jetter in particular as a joyous creative force. She speaks how she found an outlet in drawing and how she has spent 20 years designing a model train world patterned after Palisades Amusement Park. In the film’s fanciful, Wes Anderson-ian flashbacks, the adult Patrice plays herself opposite child actors, against production design based on her drawings.And while Jetter and Wickham’s political fight is not resolved as of the end of the movie, the thread in which Jetter works to raise money for the new van she needs to commute affordably to her job has a crowd-pleasing finish.Patrice: The MovieNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 42 minutes. Watch on Hulu. More

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      New York Film Festival Pitches Its Ever-Expanding, Global Tent

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      Standout selections include “Nickel Boys,” the Mumbai-set “All We Imagine as Light” and the documentary “Dahomey,” about African repatriation.Every year, the New York Film Festival sets up a big tent at Lincoln Center and invites its hometown to the greatest show on earth, or at least to watch some of the finest movies from across the globe. This year is no different, with standout selections that include the opening-night attraction, “Nickel Boys,” RaMell Ross’s tender, beautifully expressionistic adaptation of the Colson Whitehead novel; “All We Imagine as Light,” Payal Kapadia’s delicately observed, stirring drama about three women living in Mumbai; and “Dahomey,” Mati Diop’s intellectually electrifying documentary about the fraught complexities of repatriation.Over the decades, the festival’s tent has grown larger and its attractions more expansive. The main lineup and the Spotlight section feature a mix of established and lesser-known auteurs, as well as a smattering of stars. This is where you can find the recommended latest from Mike Leigh (“Hard Truths”) and Pedro Almodóvar (“The Room Next Door”), as well as the second and third parts of Wang Bing’s absorbing documentary trilogy about young people in China — “Youth (Hard Times)” and “Youth (Homecoming)” — which together run a whopping 378 minutes, about an hour longer than Julia Loktev’s 324-minute “My Undesirable Friends: Part I — Last Air in Moscow,” about journalists in today’s Russia.Marianne Jean-Baptiste in Mike Leigh’s “Hard Truths.”Creativity MediaIn 1963, its inaugural year, the festival presented 21 new feature films, and created a major stir. Not everyone on Lincoln Center’s board had been happy about the prospect of movies sharing space with the performing arts, with one member carping, “What’s next, baseball?” The festival programmers pushed on, and the film lovers came running. A critical and financial success, the ’63 iteration even made the cover of Time magazine, which trumpeted that the event “may well mark for Americans a redefinition of what movies are and who it is that sees them.” Six years later, the cultural legitimation of movies hit another milestone with the formation of what’s now known as Film at Lincoln Center, which runs the festival.Given that such snobbism about movies now seems quaintly absurd, and given too the ubiquity of festivals, it can be difficult to convey what the New York Film Festival meant when it was founded. Although Cannes and Venice had been around for decades, festivals hadn’t yet emerged as the crucial international distribution network that they are now for smaller, less mainstream work. In 1963, the big Hollywood studios were releasing bloated epics like “Cleopatra,” and art houses and audiences were both quickly growing. Yet the movies still had a maddening reputation problem. In an editorial titled “The Film as Art” published the day the first festival opened, The New York Times made a sweetly sincere case for the event.“Moviegoers and moviemakers are divided into two unequal parts in this country,” the editorial began. “The vast majority of the moviegoers go to see what the moviemakers call ‘product.’” The selections in the festival, by contrast, the editorial continued, “dignify movies in this country; tell the world that we too are interested in cultural efforts.” I’ve quoted these words before, and I’m sure that I laughed the first time I read them. Even so, they bear repeating given the state of the art and industry, especially in the United States, where movies are still referred to as product (and content) and the Oscar race tends to generate more attention than the movies do. These days, any defense of art bears repeating.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      Will Ferrell-Harper Steele Documentary Drops on Netflix

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      Will Ferrell and Harper Steele, a former “Saturday Night Live” writer, use a road trip to navigate their relationship now that she is out as a trans woman.The road movie is a time-honored Hollywood genre, and it’s a good format for a documentary, too. Something about getting in a car and driving down the interstate feels quintessentially American and holds the potential for revelation. I’ve seen plenty that serve up only pablum about finding common ground and tolerating each other. But a country so full of contrasts and contradictions is excellent fodder for whoever is holding the camera.“Will & Harper” (streaming on Netflix) is a surprisingly insightful entry into the category. Directed by Josh Greenbaum (who has made comedies like “Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar,” among other things), the documentary begins like any conventional road movie might: Two old friends get in a car on the East Coast and point their headlights west.But these are no ordinary friends. Will is Will Ferrell, the comedian and star. Harper is Harper Steele, one of Ferrell’s oldest friends, dating all the way back to their days at “Saturday Night Live,” where they started the same week in 1995. Ferrell, of course, was a performer. Steele was a writer from 1995 to 2008; for four of those years, she was the show’s head writer.In 2021, Steele sent an email to a close circle of friends, coming out as a trans woman. Ferrell, seeking to support her, proposed they go on a road trip across the country, during which he could navigate his relationship with Steele and they could also explore America. What would they learn? They’d find out.The result, unsurprisingly, is very funny. These are two top comedy minds, and Ferrell, at least, is among America’s most recognizable celebrities, no matter what color the state. Steele, on the other hand, is dealing with a new reality. When she was younger, she. had traveled across America, but as a trans woman she encounters a different landscape. Ferrell is there as a companion and, at some points, a defender. Being a trans woman in America can draw a wide variety of responses from others.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      NewJeans’s Complaints Against Hybe Brings Scrutiny to K-Pop’s New Releases

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      The breakout girl group went public with complaints against its parent company, Hybe, which has just released a new TV series and film about the control it exerts over stars.A huge part of the success of NewJeans — the most creatively promising new K-pop act of the past two years — has been its music videos: stylistically sophisticated, vividly colorful, palpably joyful. Starting with music that deploys top-shelf songwriting buoyed by production savvy about global microtrends, the group developed a singular aesthetic to go with it, drawing equally from high fashion, lived-in nostalgia and contemporary cuteness.So it was striking when, a couple of weeks ago, the group released a video performance unlike any that preceded it. In a live broadcast on a burner YouTube account, the group’s five members — Danielle, Haerin, Hanni, Hyein and Minji — spoke for almost 30 minutes about their dissatisfaction with their parent company, Hybe. They particularly focused on how it had de-emphasized the role of the group’s executive producer, Min Hee-jin, in their work.Here was a group putting its external image and its internal leverage at risk to argue for their creative lives. It is an infrequent scenario at this level in K-pop, a genre and business in which careful choreography — of music, visuals and star behavior — is crucial to the power of the art.This livestream, of course, was as art directed as any of the group’s technicolor music videos. The members dressed largely in black, speaking softly in an anonymous office. Out in the world, NewJeans is vibrant, dynamic and approachably fun; in this clip, which some fans speculated was secretly orchestrated by Min, the members were reduced to spiritless cogs, as if trapped and suffocated by the corporation itself.Min Hee-jin, NewJeans’ executive producer, called a news conference in April to dispute accusations of corporate malfeasance by her employer, Hybe.Chung Sung-Jun/Getty ImagesFor almost as long as K-pop has been a global force, it has been an exemplar of the controversial virtues of top-down control. American pop labels essentially abandoned this mode more than a decade ago, following the boy band and Britney-Christina era. The influence of social media in creating bottom-up hits and stars has all but invalidated the label-knows-best mode of creation. But K-pop’s commitment to that ethic persists, and has made exactitude into an artistic virtue.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      ‘We Will Dance Again’ Review: Remembering Oct. 7

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      In this documentary by Yariv Mozer, Israelis who attended the Nova music festival near the Gaza border describe how they survived the attack last year.“We Will Dance Again” reconstructs the Hamas-led attack on Israel on Oct. 7 from the perspectives of attendees of the Nova music festival. At least 360 people were killed at the event that was near the border with Gaza, according to Israeli authorities. Directed by Yariv Mozer, this documentary opens with an acknowledgment of the fraught subject matter. “The human cost of the Hamas massacre in Israel and the war that followed in Gaza has been catastrophic for both Israelis and Palestinians,” the text says. Citing death tolls from both sides of the conflict, it adds, “This film cannot tell everyone’s story.”That caveat also hints at why assessing “We Will Dance Again” as a movie is so difficult. Impassioned viewers will undoubtedly have their own opinions, and it would be disingenuous to say that a film released in advance of the attack’s anniversary — and in the middle of an active war — could somehow be seen apart from the divisive politics surrounding the region.Through phone videos, interviews with festivalgoers and, eventually, footage attributed to Hamas fighters, “We Will Dance Again” assembles a timeline of how the attack was experienced at the festival, where people had gathered to attend a multiday rave. Some remember spotting rocket fire as the sun rose on the morning of Oct. 7. “Wow, Lali, there’s fireworks!” one interviewee, Liel Shitrit, known as Lali, quotes a friend as saying. “They really went all out this year!” Soon after, over images of streaks in the sky, we hear an off-camera voice speculate that “the drugs are kicking in.”But the interviewees explain how the reality of the situation became clear. As the film’s narrative unfolds, we hear from witnesses like Noa Beer, who recounts a harrowing escape by car and a call to the police, who she says didn’t yet understand the situation. Elinor Gambarian, a single mother, hid inside a refrigerator.Two of the interviewees, Eitan Halley and Ziv Abud, recall a grenade attack on a roadside shelter where they had taken refuge; both commend efforts by Aner Shapira, who was killed, to toss back grenades before they exploded. Halley says he saw Hersh Goldberg-Polin, who was taken hostage by Hamas and whose body was later recovered, in the immediate aftermath of the blast.While the fluid editing of such disparate source material is impressive, some of Mozer’s aesthetic choices tend to cheapen the testimonies. (The rave-like electronic scoring as Shitrit describes looking for circling birds to see where gunfire was coming from seems particularly unnecessary.) But if the shock of that day’s violence has faded after a year, “We Will Dance Again” aims to keep it visible, and to memorialize it viscerally.We Will Dance AgainNot rated. In Hebrew, English and Arabic, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. Watch on Paramount+. More