It plays like one of the Grateful Dead’s seminal concerts: protracted and digressive, yet intricate in its design.
Once the media caravan departs, the doc meanders, torn between its obligation to reportage and its interest in a town riven by America’s thirst for justice.
Rich Hill is poverty porn, and this isn’t simply because the film examines poverty.
Amir Bar-Lev’s documentary fundamentally functions as a candid attempt by the Tillman family to rescue their son Pat’s identity and legacy.
The conundrum at the core of My Kid Could Paint That might have pleased Salvador Dalí.