Six months into the year, do we know what will rank as the best documentary of 2026? By the halfway point of 2025, I’d seen most of my end-of-year top 10, though some weren’t released until later. This year, at the midway point, a few of my favorites (including Nuisance Bear, Soul Patrol, and One in a Million) are still to come, but I think my number one is a lock. The funny thing is that the two additions to the current top five were released right after I published the initial list back in May. And now, what’s possibly my favorite docuseries of the year won’t debut until after this list goes live.

For the midyear version, I’ve increased the ranking from 10 to 15. Five newer titles were added. None of the previous bunch fell off. Here’s the updated breakdown of how they arrived on the calendar: four of the titles to make the list were released in February; two in March; two in April; five in May; and two in June. To see where other films rank, visit us on Letterboxd and follow us for updates to our list throughout the year. Spoiler: you’ll be tipped off about what might be added or dropped. Halfway in, who knows how many of the titles below will still be in our top 26 at the end of 2026?

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Six months into the year, do we know what will rank as the best documentary of 2026? By the halfway point of 2025, I’d seen most of my end-of-year top 10, though some weren’t released until later. This year, at the midway point, a few of my favorites (including Nuisance Bear, Soul Patrol, and One in a Million) are still to come, but I think my number one is a lock. The funny thing is that the two additions to the current top five were released right after I published the initial list back in May. And now, what’s possibly my favorite docuseries of the year won’t debut until after this list goes live.

For the midyear version, I’ve increased the ranking from 10 to 15. Five newer titles were added. None of the previous bunch fell off. Here’s the updated breakdown of how they arrived on the calendar: four of the titles to make the list were released in February; two in March; two in April; five in May; and two in June. To see where other films rank, visit us on Letterboxd and follow us for updates to our list throughout the year. Spoiler: you’ll be tipped off about what might be added or dropped. Halfway in, who knows how many of the titles below will still be in our top 26 at the end of 2026?

Read more

Six months into the year, do we know what will rank as the best documentary of 2026? By the halfway point of 2025, I’d seen most of my end-of-year top 10, though some weren’t released until later. This year, at the midway point, a few of my favorites (including Nuisance Bear, Soul Patrol, and One in a Million) are still to come, but I think my number one is a lock. The funny thing is that the two additions to the current top five were released right after I published the initial list back in May. And now, what’s possibly my favorite docuseries of the year won’t debut until after this list goes live.

For the midyear version, I’ve increased the ranking from 10 to 15. Five newer titles were added. None of the previous bunch fell off. Here’s the updated breakdown of how they arrived on the calendar: four of the titles to make the list were released in February; two in March; two in April; five in May; and two in June. To see where other films rank, visit us on Letterboxd and follow us for updates to our list throughout the year. Spoiler: you’ll be tipped off about what might be added or dropped. Halfway in, who knows how many of the titles below will still be in our top 26 at the end of 2026?

Read more

I have no interest in or understanding of tennis (despite taking lessons as a little kid and playing it in P.E. in middle school), so most documentaries about the sport and its players don’t appeal to me. They need a great story where the tennis clips are merely obligatory set dressing, like this year’s Billie Jean King biography, Give Me the Ball!, or they need exceptional cinematic form, à la John McEnroe: In the Realm of Perfection. This film is among the former, and it stands out because it’s about a friendship turned rivalry turned friendship again, where the relationship between its two subjects constitutes a sum greater than its individual biographical parts.

Directed by sports doc regular Rebecca Gitlitz (she has contributed to both 30 for 30 and Untold, among other works), Chris & Martina: The Final Set follows the contrasting lives of tennis legends Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova, both of whom rose in the ranks of women’s tennis players as teenagers in the early 1970s. They were part of the new generation that made women’s tennis more popular than ever, and the media spun easy narratives from their backgrounds, appearance, and matchups. Evert was the pretty blonde American from the Sunshine State, while Navratilova was the bisexual defector from the Communist Bloc. Hollywood couldn’t write them better.

But they were initially friendly and even won doubles events together. Where their story gets more interesting, without help from the media (though perhaps influenced by and feeding into it), is when they fell out, and things got ugly between them. There has already been a documentary released about their rivalry, though: the 2010 30 for 30 film Unmatched. What Chris & Martina: The Final Set adds to their paired-up story is the cancer diagnoses they’ve received since, and the support they’ve given each other throughout their treatment. It’s bittersweet how they jokingly view their similar circumstances as another part of their rivalry.

It’s also beautiful to see them going through it together, and the documentary gives them some joint interviews in addition to their individual setups to emphasize the evolution of their relationship. For me, they could be tennis players, or they could be icons from any other sport, or music, science, politics, whatever. While there is some time given to their dissimilar respective styles and talents, with footage of their matches where they faced each other for major titles, you don’t have to understand tennis scoring to appreciate these sequences or the film as a whole. Both women are still surviving, but otherwise, their story here feels more Beaches than Challengers.

I have no interest in or understanding of tennis (despite taking lessons as a little kid and playing it in P.E. in middle school), so most documentaries about the sport and its players don’t appeal to me. They need a great story where the tennis clips are merely obligatory set dressing, like this year’s Billie Jean King biography, Give Me the Ball!, or they need exceptional cinematic form, à la John McEnroe: In the Realm of Perfection. This film is among the former, and it stands out because it’s about a friendship turned rivalry turned friendship again, where the relationship between its two subjects constitutes a sum greater than its individual biographical parts.

Directed by sports doc regular Rebecca Gitlitz (she has contributed to both 30 for 30 and Untold, among other works), Chris & Martina: The Final Set follows the contrasting lives of tennis legends Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova, both of whom rose in the ranks of women’s tennis players as teenagers in the early 1970s. They were part of the new generation that made women’s tennis more popular than ever, and the media spun easy narratives from their backgrounds, appearance, and matchups. Evert was the pretty blonde American from the Sunshine State, while Navratilova was the bisexual defector from the Communist Bloc. Hollywood couldn’t write them better.

But they were initially friendly and even won doubles events together. Where their story gets more interesting, without help from the media (though perhaps influenced by and feeding into it), is when they fell out, and things got ugly between them. There has already been a documentary released about their rivalry, though: the 2010 30 for 30 film Unmatched. What Chris & Martina: The Final Set adds to their paired-up story is the cancer diagnoses they’ve received since, and the support they’ve given each other throughout their treatment. It’s bittersweet how they jokingly view their similar circumstances as another part of their rivalry.

It’s also beautiful to see them going through it together, and the documentary gives them some joint interviews in addition to their individual setups to emphasize the evolution of their relationship. For me, they could be tennis players, or they could be icons from any other sport, or music, science, politics, whatever. While there is some time given to their dissimilar respective styles and talents, with footage of their matches where they faced each other for major titles, you don’t have to understand tennis scoring to appreciate these sequences or the film as a whole. Both women are still surviving, but otherwise, their story here feels more Beaches than Challengers.

I first met Fred Wiseman the early Aughts when Hot Docs was beginning to flex its muscles and grow into a major festi­val. An honoured guest, he was being shepherded around by Hot Docs staff members, most of whom were in awe of the slight, charismatic filmmaker from Massachusetts. As one of the programmers, I was designated to conduct a question-and-answer period with him after a screening at the Bloor Cinema.

We’d barely shaken hands when the lights came up. I introduced him and asked whether he thought his films were different than Al Maysles’, who was also at the festival. Fred Wiseman looked at me sternly and said, “Of course.” And nothing else.

Shell shocked, I asked, “What about Pennebaker’s docs?”

Wiseman paused. “They’re different too.”

I swallowed and looked at him. His look was puckish. Obviously, he wanted to see what I would do. I hesitated and then said, “Your work isn’t the same as Leacock or Maysles or Pennebaker. You are clearly interested in institutions and structures. What fascinates you about organizations—enough to make you document them?” Wiseman appeared pleased as he finally gave me a long analytical response to my question. At last, we were on the same page.

I’m sure I wasn’t the first or last person to be taught lessons by Fred Wiseman. A fiercely intelligent man, he didn’t suffer fools gladly. Nor, in my case, did he want someone to play down to him—and the audience—by asking softball questions. He made his films accord­ing to strict rules—no voice-overs, no explanatory titles, no time and location data—because he wanted true human drama to unfold. Wiseman expected nothing less from his colleagues and even inter­locutors like me.

Over the years, I was fortunate enough to see Wiseman several times and watch most of his vast oeuvre. The work is huge and compelling. With a clear dispassionate eye, he recorded high school administra­tors, fishermen in Maine, dancers in a Parisian cabaret, politicians in Boston and Jackson Heights—the list is endless. His films, whether short or enormously long, were marked by his endless curiosity about our behaviour. Why do we act as we do? A Francophile, Wiseman might have been amused to be compared to Balzac, but he truly also catalogued “la comédie humaine.”

Leacock, Pennebaker and Al Maysles all spent long lives doing great work. Wiseman outlived them all, garnering prizes including an hon­orary Oscar in his later years. Since his death, the tributes have been overwhelming; my favourite is from the British Film Institute, which called him a “towering figure” of documentary. That he was.

As for me, he showed a glimmer of respect on our last encounter. Having prepared for a long interview, I told him that I had a list of chal­lenging questions. He smiled slightly and said that he wasn’t surprised. “I know you.”

The post Goodbye to the Wisest Man in Documentaries appeared first on POV Magazine.

Hello friends and welcome new subscribers! If you are new here: this newsletter comes once a week on Sunday mornings, with occasional midweek bonus posts.

I got a lot of great feedback on this Vulture article about the unglamorous financial reality of indie filmmaking. It is embarrassing, and even risky, to share stuff like this — hence, “of the 22 filmmakers we reached out to for this piece, 17 did not respond or declined to participate.” Oy.

If I could have added maybe one more thing, it would be this: I am highly aware nobody owes me a living for making my little movies. I am lucky to get to make them at all and shocked/thrilled anyone gives me any money for them. I am certain Daniel, Dustin, Sophy, and Joel feel the same way. Getting to do the work I feel I was put on this earth to make — that is the prize.

And on that note: YOU GUYS LOOK AT THIS POSTER!!!

Betting on myself: making time to develop new ideas

Building a structure around my work, as an independent artist, includes creating the conditions that might lead to future projects. If I stop generating new ideas, future me is screwed.

Nobody hands you a development slate. Nobody tells you to block off the time to think, read, daydream, sketch, abandon ideas, and start new ones. You have to bet on yourself enough to make that time, and find a structure that works for your own, idiosyncratic self.

Here is mine…

Starting way back when I was a college professor and needing to fit in my creative work around my other work, I’ve used a creative sprint model for jumpstarting a new phase of development. Every six months or so, I deliberately step away from my day-to-day responsibilities and try to generate a handful of new creative ideas worth pursuing.

This is my “10 Ideas in 10 Days” Challenge. And I will be doing this again, very soon, like starting in a few days!

The goal isn’t to emerge with 10 fully formed film concepts; that would not be possible in this time frame. The goal is to get a handful of ideas to the point where I could pitch them to another human being in a few minutes, and see how it feels.

If I come away with two or three contenders — or, honestly, even just one good idea — that’s a huge success. It’s also a great way to quickly rule out a lot of ideas from my ongoing, vague, “I should look into this” list, which I find lessens my mental load.

Below, I’ll share how I’ll be doing it. If you’re looking to stress-test a couple of project ideas of your own, you can play along.

Maybe you want to do this with a friend or collaborator? Even better, because you will need someone to pitch, in Step 6.

If you do try this method, even an abbreviated version, please let me know by replying to this email or leaving a comment on this post.

And please: ask me in 10 days how I did. 😬

The Challenge: 10 Ideas in 10 Days

Read more

Hello friends and welcome new subscribers! If you are new here: this newsletter comes once a week on Sunday mornings, with occasional midweek bonus posts.

I got a lot of great feedback on this Vulture article about the unglamorous financial reality of indie filmmaking. It is embarrassing, and even risky, to share stuff like this — hence, “of the 22 filmmakers we reached out to for this piece, 17 did not respond or declined to participate.” Oy.

If I could have added maybe one more thing, it would be this: I am highly aware nobody owes me a living for making my little movies. I am lucky to get to make them at all and shocked/thrilled anyone gives me any money for them. I am certain Daniel, Dustin, Sophy, and Joel feel the same way. Getting to do the work I feel I was put on this earth to make — that is the prize.

And on that note: YOU GUYS LOOK AT THIS POSTER!!!

Betting on myself: making time to develop new ideas

Building a structure around my work, as an independent artist, includes creating the conditions that might lead to future projects. If I stop generating new ideas, future me is screwed.

Nobody hands you a development slate. Nobody tells you to block off the time to think, read, daydream, sketch, abandon ideas, and start new ones. You have to bet on yourself enough to make that time, and find a structure that works for your own, idiosyncratic self.

Here is mine…

Starting way back when I was a college professor and needing to fit in my creative work around my other work, I’ve used a creative sprint model for jumpstarting a new phase of development. Every six months or so, I deliberately step away from my day-to-day responsibilities and try to generate a handful of new creative ideas worth pursuing.

This is my “10 Ideas in 10 Days” Challenge. And I will be doing this again, very soon, like starting in a few days!

The goal isn’t to emerge with 10 fully formed film concepts; that would not be possible in this time frame. The goal is to get a handful of ideas to the point where I could pitch them to another human being in a few minutes, and see how it feels.

If I come away with two or three contenders — or, honestly, even just one good idea — that’s a huge success. It’s also a great way to quickly rule out a lot of ideas from my ongoing, vague, “I should look into this” list, which I find lessens my mental load.

Below, I’ll share how I’ll be doing it. If you’re looking to stress-test a couple of project ideas of your own, you can play along.

Maybe you want to do this with a friend or collaborator? Even better, because you will need someone to pitch, in Step 6.

If you do try this method, even an abbreviated version, please let me know by replying to this email or leaving a comment on this post.

And please: ask me in 10 days how I did. 😬

The Challenge: 10 Ideas in 10 Days

Read more

IDA Member Spotlight: Tia Lessin
idastaff
Fri, 06/26/2026 – 14:52

IDA Member Spotlight: Tia Lessin
idastaff
Fri, 06/26/2026 – 14:52