The 19 Best Documentaries Of The 2010s

This seemed like a pretty pivotal decade for the Documentary. Despite their current role as the harbinger of the demise of cinema, the rise of streaming services played a crucial role in expanding the reach of non-fiction films  and demystifying them for general audiences. As a result, different platforms have tripped over each other to pay unprecedented figures for the right to be the exclusive home for this or that event film, something that would have seemed far fetched in the aughts. Perhaps as a consequence of, or maybe even despite this, filmmakers felt freer to push the conventions of the form in both aesthetics and subject matter, expanding the umbrella of what be considered a “documentary.” The result was a decade of feasting for non-fiction film lovers.

Though there are many documentaries worth of recognition on a list like this, these films all completely knocked me off my feet, taking up residence in my brain for days, weeks, months after, and informing judgements on any films I saw later. This started out as a significantly larger selection of films, but as I began to revisit them over the past few months, I found that these nineteen just held a special place of affection and reverence inside of me that others couldn’t touch.

I’m not ranking this list because there is so little that separates the films from one another, and being that it’s just me making the picks, I can’t make any claims to consensus or objective quality. Thus ranking just seemed unproductive, certain only to annoy people who disagreed with me. But I am so happy to share with you my favorite documentaries of the 2010s, presented in no particular order.

Jane (2017) Dir. Brett Morgan

This profile of legendary conservationist and environmental leader Jane Goodall could have easily been another rote talking heads affair, content to follow the template laid out by countless biodocs prior. But Morgan‘s film has the luxury that most of this nature do not: over 100 hours of rare archival footage, and a Philip Glass score on par with his best work. Morgan and editor Joe Beshenkovsky managed to combine those elements in such a way that not only tells the story of one remarkable life, but also results in one of the most striking films I’ve seen about both personal and interpersonal passion, and how they oscillate between supporting and conflicting with one another.

Read my interview with Dr. Jane Goodall here.

Citizenfour (2014) Dir. Laura Poitras

Documentaries are most often about, or around, history. Citizenfour is the rare film that is itself history. Edward Snowdencontacted Poitras because his access made him privy to the knowledge that she was a target of surveillance, and thus the perfect candidate to aid him in an endeavor whose effects are still rippling throughout the world. In preserving this watershed moment, Poitras‘ film serves as a snapshot of government surveillance at the time of shooting. But more than merely a faithful document, Citizenfour is a taut bottle-thriller, as full of intrigue as it is claustrophobia.

The Other Side (2015) Dir. Robert Minervini

There have been so many films made over the years (literally so many), but there are none like The Other Side. Minervi collaborates with his subjects to stage poetic framing devices for his non-fiction scenes, resulting in an enhanced depiction of life on the fringes of rural Louisiana. The intimacy here is on a level that borders on shocking at the least, and at times even approaches the pornographic. The eponymous “Other” implies that the audience is not aligned with the the film’s subjects, but the people in The Other Side are never depicted with derision, and come across with more nuance and complexity than some might argue are warranted for, say, right wing militia members.

The Final Member (2012) Dir. Jonah Bekhor, Zach Math

Yes, docs can plumb the depths of the human condition and explore pressing social matters, but they can also chronicle the plights befalling the world’s only penis museum, and do it with aplomb. The Final Member begins as a routine enough profile of the museum in Iceland, anchored by its charismatic founder Sigurður “Siggi” Hjartarson. But it transcends those bounds when it introduces Tom Mitchell, who is vying for his penis to be the human example displayed in the museum. As you might imagine for such a character, levels of delusion and narcissism are high, and the absurd exchanges between the film’s two leads help make this one of the best comedies of the decade.

School Life (2016) Dir. Neasa Ni Chianáin, David Rane

There is a common misconception that documentaries merely capture reality as it is, the camera an invisible observer. But often the best docs feature not subjects but straight-up performers, and School Life‘s John Leyden is one of the best. Visibly excited to finally have an audience for his wit over the age of 12, the film frequently finds Leyden musing to himself when there’s no one else in the room, aside from Ni Chianáin and Rane.

The married directors cut their film about an idyllic Irish boarding school almost like a comedy, letting punchlines and knowing glances punctuate their scenes. It’s a film whose world, when revisited now, feels like a hermetically sealed land of purity unsullied by the reality in which I was viewing it. In that sense, it’s a work of cinematic escapism on par with any space-faring blockbuster

Dina (2017) Dir. Antonio Santini, Dan Sickles

In a decade in which the formal exchange between fiction and non-fiction filmmaking was varied and fruitful, Dina makes a case for being the most “cinematic” documentary of the decade. With a color palette, score, story, and cinematography that feel ripped straight from a low-budget indie darling, the film’s intimate depiction of a burgeoning love between Dina Bruno and Scott Levin deserves a place among the movies’ greatest love stories. That they happen to be autistic certainly makes their story unique, and it often seems that it gives them both an air of openness unique to documentaries, furthering the film’s relationship to fiction forms.

But audiences would be mistaken to allow that aspect to cause them to differentiate themselves from Dina and Scott, as the resulting level of intimacy creates maybe the best, and most honest, film about romantic relationships I’ve ever seen.

Honeyland (2019) Dir. Tamara Kotevska, Ljubomir Stefanov

Closing out the decade of form-pushing docs is an unexpected entry about a beekeeper in Northern Macedonia, her mother, and maybe the worst neighbors ever put to film. Directors Kotevska and Stefanov are able to take this esoteric subject matter, and through an expert collaboration with editor Atanas Georgiev, create the decade’s sharpest allegorical narrative. The potent environmental and anti-capitalist themes are further buoyed by remarkable cinematography that gives Hatidze‘s village an otherworldly quality.

It’s a film so well-constructed that it’s almost a crime how funny it also manages to be. “Poverty-stricken woman tending to her dying mother while forces beyond her control decimate her livelihood” doesn’t exactly read like your typical crowd-pleaser, but Hatidze’s perseverance and, f*ck it I’ll say it, indomitable spirit form an inspirational beacon as the issues with which she contends play out on a global scale. We can also all feel good that as a result of this film the filmmakers were able to buy their subject a proper house.

The Act of Killing (2012) Dir. Joshua Oppenheimer

Of course this one is here, how could it not be? You’ve probably seen it on plenty of other lists, with good reason. It’s a remarkably layered and complex film that poses the sort of post-modern and ethical questions with which doc enthusiasts love to wrestle. I don’t think I can say much here that hasn’t already been said, but if you’ve seen it you understand how it ended up here, and if you haven’t then quit putting it off and get this one under your belt. It’s far from the easiest watch in the world, but there’s really nothing else like it. And you’ll see probably the single most heinous examples of someone’s tooth-brushing routine in cinema history.

Keep on Keepin’ On (2014) Dir. Alan Hicks

This moving portrait of jazz great Clark Terry is another film that transcends the usual formula for biographic documentaries. It of course features legends and contemporaries saying things along the lines of “man, that cat was so cool, he could really play,” but where Hick‘s film reaches greatness is in the demonstration of of Terry’s warmth and humanity as an educator. The other subject of the film is Justin Kauflin, a blind pianist who is Terry’s latest protégé .

I found myself totally swept up in the sincerity of their mutual admiration and appreciation for the music. Even if you’re not into jazz, the film is valuable for its unique and tender representation of platonic love between men.

The Queen of Versailles (2012) Dir. Lauren Greenfield

This f*ckin’ movie, man. Every time. Presenting in bombastic detail the illness that is the billionaire class and the utter lunacy of our financial institutions, The Queen of Versailles is also a remarkably human, if more than a little sardonic, story depicting the hollowness of the American dream. Despite the offensive wealth held by the Siegel family, absolutely no one in it is even content, let alone happy.

The patriarch David is bogged down in a financial quagmire of his own making. His wife Jackie finds herself isolated in luxury and without a partner. Their kids are as wayward as they are numerous left to navigate life without any significant parental guidance. Even the dogs are wallowing in the mansion that’s brimming with their own shit.

So does schadenfreude play a role in why I take to this movie so much? It would be lying to say otherwise. But really you just want everyone to stop being so miserable and directionless, to take them and say “look, keep like 10% of your money and retire and never worry about anything again, then build some libraries, schools, and hospitals with your name on it and you’ll be good to go!”

Cameraperson (2016) Dir. Kirsten Johnson

If any film here came out with the force of an instant classic, it was veteran non-fiction cinematographer Kirsten Johnson‘s directorial debut. Cobbled together from footage from her numerous work-for-hire roles on notable documentaries (including the first entrant on this list), Cameraperson is a stunningly layered work of metatextuality. At every point we have to reckon with the film for which this footage was originally shot, and the film we are watching, accounting for the motivations of the directors of both.

It’s also a very instructive film, showcasing the rewards of patience, as well as the artifice and constant decision-making required of documentary filmmakers. One thing that stood out to me on my recent rewatch is the sharpness of Johnson‘s skill behind the lens; how quickly she is able to move and reframe and consequently alter the entire meaning of a scene. In its composition of numerous prior films, Cameraperson will conversely go on to inhabit all documentaries going forward, as a textual reference point for the medium.

Brimstone & Glory (2017) Dir. Viktor Jakovleski

I don’t think that it’s at all going out on a limb to call Brimstone & Glory the most visually stunning documentary of the decade. In order to document the annual pyrotechnics festival in Tultepec, Mexico, Jakovleski and his crew donned head to toe fire retardant suits to get right up in the action, a luxury that notably none of the revelers afford themselves. Though the film opens with some background about the town, the festival, and those whose livelihoods depend on it, once the spark is lit the film becomes a nonstop fireworks-qatsi.

Driven by a propulsive score from Dan Romer and Benh Zeitlin, this was one of the most memorable in-theater experiences I had over the past ten years. If you can, see it big, see it loud, and try not to be scorched by the sparks.

California Dreams (2017) Dir. Mike Ott

California Dreams is a film that defies classification, perplexing from the very beginning, but we’re going to go ahead and call it a doc anyway. Showcasing an assortment of aspiring actors who exist in the countless interchangeable towns on the outskirts of Los Angeles, Ott‘s film is as much a documentary of the mind as it is of the subjects themselves. Through readings selected and performed by the subjects from their favorite films, and staged scenes with inspiration taken from their lives, we get a more complete portrait than a standard approached probably would have allowed.

In riding the magnetic charisma of its lead, Cory Zacharia, the Léaud to Ott‘s Truffaut, California Dreams addresses the implicit result of all nonfiction film making: turning ordinary people into movie stars.

The Interrupters (2011) Dir. Steve James

One of documentary’s greatest authors continued to produce gripping work throughout this decade, but it’s The Interrupters I find myself thinking about most. James’ film follows a group of former gang-members as they insert themselves into volatile moments of interpersonal conflict with the goal of saving lives. It’s a bold and dangerous form of community work, but one that actually sees results in reducing death counts, unlike increased policing.

James, always a formal chameleon, utilizes found footage and talking heads along with his direct footage to get the results he’s after. Among the interrupters, there’s no question that Ameena Matthews steals the show with her absolutely fearless social aptitude in high-stress situations, and her sincere care in sticking with people after the initial intervention. And wouldn’t you know it, she’s now running to serve those she helps as a representative in congress. Matthews 2020!

The Look of Silence (2014) Dir. Joshua Oppenheimer

Yeah, this one’s on here too. There’s no choosing, Oppenheimer‘s The Look of Silence and The Act of Killing are both monumental works of global cinema. But I would argue that the second in Oppenheimer‘s diptych, though less lauded, is the superior film. In many ways it’s the film I’m sure some wish The Act of Killing would’ve been: doing away with some of the flashier surrealist flourishes, focusing on the victims rather than the perpetrators, and more fiercely holding the latter’s feet to the fire in a manner reminiscent of Kazuo Hara‘s The Emperor’s Naked Army Marches On.

It’s also an incredibly different film formally, comprised mostly of static shots, when The Act of Killing was mostly handheld. But it all makes sense, the tone here is one of grief rather than pride. For the subjects in both, the past is inescapable and must be reckoned with, and  these films embark on that necessary work.

Combat Obscura (2018) Dir. Miles Lagoze

This is the only film on this list that I didn’t revisit. I first saw it almost two years ago and I’m still not ready to return to the world it inhabits. Lagoze shot Obscura while himself a marine stationed in Afghanistan, and the footage he came back with goes a long way towards challenging any notions of heroism or benevolence some may still somehow hold towards the military and US foreign policy.

After I saw Combat Obscura a friend invited me to hang out. It was a Saturday and I think I had watched it that Wednesday, and I had to tell him I couldn’t get out of bed because I saw a movie a few days ago. The mark of an excellent film!

LA 92 (2017) Dir. T.J. Martin, Daniel Lindsay

In putting together a film on events 25 years past, LA 92 offers the comprehensiveness only possible with years of reflection. By utilizing only archival footage shot while said events were taking place, Martin and Lindsay deftly resist the attempts at meaning-making inherent in speaking about the past. The film offers ample context for, and documentation of, the infamous Rodney King riots. It somehow manages something that approaches beauty in the composition and presentation of such an ugly event with few, if any, beneficiaries.

As the film makes clear this was hardly an isolated incident sparked by a single event. Rather, these riots were only the latest chapter in a centuries long struggle that continues to play out in ever more frustrating ways.

A Friendship In Tow/Toe (2017) Dir. Atsushi Kuwayama

Like Keep On Keepin’ On, Kuwayama‘s short also depicts the joy birthed by an intergenerational friendship. Unlike Hicks‘ film, that joy comes not from anything shared, save for one stretch of public infrastructure, but rather the complete difference between both parties. On one hand is Atsushi, the filmmaker, a foreigner with a tenuous grasp on Portuguese embarking on a new life in Lisbon. On the other, Maria, who claims to have killed six husbands and presumably has been ascending these steps for a significant portion of her life.

As they climb together, a picture of their ritual and their mutually beneficial relationship begins to emerge, showcased in as touching and endearing a portrait as offered by any feature these past ten years.

Hale County This Morning, This Evening (2018) Dir. RaMell Ross

Look, I know this isn’t a ranked list, but this  is my #1, the best film of the decade. I went into Hale County knowing nothing other than at one point a man stands on a horse. I left in awe of what I had just witnessed, a work whose relatively brisk run-time belies the centuries it covers, and whose contents comprise seemingly the entirety of human emotional experience. It’s a work that frees documentaries from the trappings of narrative filmmaking, while at the same time embracing its aesthetic concerns and grappling with the whole history of cinematic representation of Black Americans. All this while ostensibly being a story about two young men and their families in contemporary rural Alabama.

Ross‘s eye matches his wit, willing to linger and lend focus to things at the edges of the action, resulting in a unique sense of subjectivity that continues the work of many of these films in rejecting the authoritative element ascribed to documentaries. It’s the essential American text of the decade, and everyone should see it and revisit it regularly.

While this list is meant to be personally comprehensive, it is far from globally exhaustive. I’m just one humble documentary lover, and I can only see and write about so much. Wang Bing and Pedro Costa are two huge blind spots for me whose work I intend to catch up on in the years to come. And there are countless great documentaries that are absent here but deserve equal recognition. Khalik Allah and Robert Greene continue to push the formal and aesthetic boundaries of non-fiction filmmaking. Liza Mandellup and Brett Story both came out with striking features this year that have me eager for whatever they bring to audiences next. Vimeo is bursting with innovative and underseen non-fiction shorts. And of course Frederick Wiseman continues to produce god-tier work as he approaches 90.

If nothing else, I just wrote this to proselytize the films I loved over these weird and unfortunate ten years. They’re all works that continue to inspire me and affect my worldview. But more than anything, they’re all terrific, wonderful, amazing films that deserve as wide an audience as possible. I hope you check out the ones you haven’t seen, and if you dig them, tell your friends to do the same. No doubt documentarians over the next decade will use them as a launchpad to further the medium in ways I can’t yet comprehend. For now, I’m more than happy to keep watching these until I die.