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Sunday, January 18, 2026

Cover-Up by Laura Poitras with Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative reporter Seymour Hersh

What I love most about Cover-Up, directed by Laura Poitras, is the access it provides to an extraordinarily rare individual, Pulitzer Prize-winning investigative reporter Seymour Hersh. A longtime New York Times journalist, author, and whistleblower advocate, Seymour has built his career on exposing power at great personal cost. The behind-the-scenes moments reveal a subject who clearly has a deep, earned relationship with the crew, one built on trust rather than transaction. You can feel that this access exists only because of that bond. Seymour has repeatedly turned down funding and professional growth for the truth, refusing institutional paths that might have softened or silenced his reporting. That conviction is deeply compelling. His fear of power, mistrust of systems, and guarded relationship with people felt honest and human, and it immediately drew me in.

As the hero of the film, Seymour, spends his life building a career around a single guiding principle: telling the truth no matter the consequences. In that pursuit, he uncovers some of the most consequential stories of our time, including covered-up tragedies in Vietnam, the misuse of power by former American presidents, the CIA, FBI (including Richard Nixon and Kissinger), and the ongoing crisis unfolding in Israel and Palestine as we speak. These are stories Americans are curious about, but that power would rather they forget. They are also stories that only a small number of individuals are willing to bring into the light, knowing the professional, legal, and personal risks involved. The film serves as a reminder that journalism at its best is not about access, influence, or growth, but about responsibility.

Cover-Up may be one of my favorite biographical documentaries. The level of access reminded me of what I felt watching Billy Corbin’s Cocaine Cowboys and 30 for 30: The Two Escobars. That kind of intimacy is rare, and speaking from experience, it is incredibly difficult to achieve. When filmmakers are allowed to look directly into a life like this, it should never be taken for granted.

In the closing moments of the film, something unexpected happens. As the documentary moves into subjects Seymour is not comfortable discussing, the film team had gotten access to sources the leak info to Seymour, and he breaks character. The man who has spent his entire life exposing power suddenly becomes unwilling to have his own life exposed. You can see it touch a nerve. He shuts down. That moment is striking in its irony. My instinct was to want to protect him, to shield a man who has done so much good in telling difficult truths. But I also wondered if that instinct was misplaced. Journalism has been his profession, and that profession has placed countless others into the spotlight, often unwillingly. Watching that moment forced me to question whether he should be more comfortable with the process, or whether that discomfort is precisely what makes him who he is.

Friday, January 16, 2026

My Octopus Teacher by Pippa Ehrlich and James Reed

The documentary My Octopus Teacher is one of the most unique films I have seen in the past decade, if not my entire life. At its core, the film is about relationships. Not just between a man and an octopus, but between a human being and the natural world he had quietly drifted away from. Directed by Pippa Ehrlich and James Reed, the film begins as a personal reset. Burned out and disconnected, Foster turns back to the sea near his home in South Africa, a place that once grounded him. What follows feels almost impossible. Through patience, repetition, and respect, he slowly builds trust with a wild octopus. Watching that connection form feels less like observation and more like witnessing first contact. It is intimate, strange, and deeply human.

What also makes the film so powerful, and almost hypnotic, is the narration and storytelling itself. Craig Foster has a way of telling this story that allows you to completely disappear inside it. There is no sense of performance or over-explanation, only reflection. For anyone who works in documentary filmmaking, this is the magic sauce. The ability to guide an audience through a deeply personal experience with a fluidity of conversation that you'd have with someone you've known forever. I have long admired and aspired to that kind of fluid, honest storytelling, and Foster assembles his narrative with a quiet confidence that feels nearly seamless. The story unfolds naturally, like a conversation rather than a script.

The film then pulls us beneath the surface into a daily ritual of free diving in the frigid waters of False Bay. I know this environment well. I lived in central California for nearly a decade and spent years swimming and diving in the cold Pacific among kelp forests. That water is unforgiving. The idea that Foster committed himself to these dives every single day, without a wetsuit, purely to observe and learn, speaks volumes about his dedication. That commitment pays off in astonishing ways. The footage reveals an intelligence and awareness in the octopus that challenges how we think about sea life altogether. Its ability to camouflage, problem solve, and interact with its environment forces uncomfortable questions about consciousness and our relationship to the creatures we so casually consume.

By the end of My Octopus Teacher, you are no longer just watching Craig Foster’s relationship with the octopus. You have developed one yourself. The octopus becomes a presence, almost like family, and when nature inevitably cycles through life and death, the loss feels real. What lingers is not sadness, but curiosity. A feeling that maybe we can be more connected to the natural world than we allow ourselves to be. My Octopus Teacher is not simply a nature documentary. It is a reminder that wonder still exists, and that sometimes the most profound relationships are waiting just beneath the surface.

Thursday, January 15, 2026

The Grind: Boardercross and Olympic Dreams ~ A Five Part Series

This time last year, I was in the middle of working on a documentary series featuring USA Boardercross athlete and Olympian Jake Vedder. I was collaborating with Milk Means More, the United Dairy Industry of Michigan (UDIM), and Brandfly Studios to capture and tell Jake’s journey through the sport. The pitch was to document training camp in New Hampshire and capture a snapshot of the work that goes into preparing for the annual Boardercross World Cup season under the FIS, while also telling his story of reaching the Olympics and his aim to return in 2026.

For the first portion of production, I traveled with filmmaker Wil Hughes to New Hampshire to film at Waterville Valley Resort. There, we were met headfirst by the realities of Mother Nature. Over the three-day period we had set aside to film, we battled frozen rain, brutal winds, and freezing temperatures. Each day was a challenge to get up the hill on foot with gear and capture moments of Jake in his element. I had my concerns, yet we persisted, and after overcoming freezing hands, deep snow, and icy slopes, the footage we came back with was spectacular.

Having made it back from the cold frigid mountains of New Hampshire with our cameras partially intact, we set our sights on capturing Jake’s life in Pinckney, Michigan, where he grew up. Inspired by his story of going from a small town to the world stage of the Olympics, we worked to embed ourselves in the Boardercross community and get a firsthand look at the sacrifice and commitment needed to make it to the top.

From his hometown high school to his favorite place to eat and his workout routine, we worked to represent the brand of Milk Means More (UDIM) and its commitment to Jake’s journey and success. Through the highs and lows, they had supported him from the start, and it was easy to see why. Jake had optimism, focus, and the commitment of a champion that remained consistent throughout our time together.

With a total of six days of footage in the can, we returned to the edit studio and went to work fashioning The Grind. Working in collaboration with the team at Brandfly Studios, we shaped the story from the physical struggle of getting up the mountain in Waterville Valley to the mental and emotional struggle of making it to the Olympics. With the initial plan of shaping a YouTube series, we built it out into five parts, each outlining Jake’s journey and the sport of boardercross, with the common theme of how milk has helped fuel his success along the way.

In the fall of 2025, Milk Means More released the series on YouTube to great reviews and feedback. Jake went on to do a series of interviews and press throughout his home State of Michigan and the city of Detroit. It has been exciting and rewarding to say the least.

As it stands, Jake Vedder has not been officially named to the 2026 U.S. Olympic snowboard cross team. The final Team USA roster for Milan Cortina 2026 will be determined after the qualification period concludes, around mid-January 2026.

Let’s go, Jake!!

Restrepo a film by director Sebastian Junger and cinematographer Tim Hetherington

There is a documentary called Restrepo, and it has stayed with me for years. It is a wartime snapshot of the conditions U.S. troops endured while traversing Afghanistan in the years following 9/11, tasked with hunting terrorist cells and confronting an enemy that was often invisible and undefined. What moved me most was how deeply the filmmakers embedded themselves within a single platoon. This was not coverage from a distance. It was lived experience. As someone who once dreamed of becoming a war journalist but never found that path, watching this firsthand account was both thrilling and sobering. You feel the adrenaline, the fear, and the exhaustion, but you are also forced to confront the larger, harder questions. Why were we there? Who exactly was the enemy? And what does victory even look like in a place like this?

The interviews, shot after the soldiers returned home, are burned into my memory. Framed against a black background in a dark room, they feel like confessions rather than commentary. There is no spectacle, no dramatic flourish, just faces carrying the weight of what they experienced. That approach deeply influenced how I think about documentary interviews and how close a camera should be allowed to get. Restrepo reinforced my belief that the most powerful stories emerge when you create a space where people feel safe enough to speak honestly about the human cost of their experiences.

I hold a high regard for both the director Sebastian Junger and his partner and cinematographer Tim Hetherington. Hetherington later lost his life in 2011 while covering the Libyan civil war, killed by shrapnel during a mortar attack in Misrata. His death is a sobering reminder of the risks carried by journalists who choose to stand closest to the truth. His work was never about spectacle, only about humanity, dignity, and bearing witness. My deepest respect and condolences remain with his family, friends, and colleagues. If you get the chance to watch Restrepo, I highly recommend it, not because it explains war, but because it refuses to simplify it.

Wednesday, January 14, 2026

Reaching Reality a film by Barry Walton

Reaching Reality is less about the pursuit of perfect waves and more about the quiet, often uncelebrated work of turning a dream into something lived. On the surface, the film follows three friends who sail a 24-foot boat from San Francisco to Cabo San Lucas, battling weather, fatigue, and uncertainty while searching seven islands for untouched surf and barren beaches. Beneath that narrative, however, is a deeper meditation on commitment, risk, and the fragile balance between ambition and reality when the ocean becomes both companion and adversary.

What makes Reaching Reality resonate is its understanding of scale. These are not world record-breaking feats or headline-grabbing achievements, yet the emotional weight of each small victory feels enormous. The film taps into a universal memory of those moments that may look insignificant from the outside but feel monumental to the person experiencing them. Standing on a wave for a few fleeting seconds or safely reaching a remote shoreline becomes a reminder that meaning is not measured by recognition, but by personal fulfillment.

Reaching Reality also reflects on the narrow window society allows for passion before expectation and responsibility begin to close in. The voyage itself happened years before the film was completed, and that distance adds an unexpected layer of honesty. The documentary becomes as much about revisiting a former version of oneself as it is about the journey at sea. The long arc of the project mirrors its message, that worthwhile things often take time, patience, and a willingness to endure doubt both from others and from within.

By the time the film reaches its conclusion, Reaching Reality feels like an argument for honoring the pursuits that matter to you, even when they carry little social currency. It celebrates the kind of joy that does not ask for permission or applause. In doing so, the film reminds us that following what feels big to us, no matter how small it may appear to the world, is not indulgent but essential.

Trailer:

Monday, January 12, 2026

Sunday, January 11, 2026

The Pretender by director Jim Toscano

The Pretender is one of those films that can quietly capture your heart and, if you let it, take a small piece of who you are with it. This is a short review.

About seven years ago, a friend of mine, Jim Toscano, reached out to me to share news of a documentary he had been working on titled The Pretender. Alongside his videographer and editor, Danny Gianino, Jim had spent a couple of years shaping the film and was preparing to release it to the public. In the final days before publication, he invited a small group of people to watch the film and provide notes. I was fortunate to be one of them.

The film opens with Mike Kunda as he prepares for a Rocky impersonation night. Watching him slip into the cadence, posture, and voice of Rocky Balboa, originally portrayed by Sylvester Stallone, struck a deeply familiar chord. As a kid, I wanted to be Rocky, too. I trained, shadowboxed, put on the gear, and imagined myself as the hero of my own story. The difference is that Mike carried that childhood dream into adulthood and chose to live it out publicly.

Over the course of fifty-five minutes, The Pretender unfolds Mike’s life story and reveals why he found refuge in the identity of Rocky Balboa. As a child, he was bullied. In his professional life, he struggled to connect. There is a lingering sense that he often felt isolated from the world around him. Yet when he steps into this character, something shifts. Through Rocky, Mike connects with people. That emotional logic made complete sense to me. His struggles were struggles I recognized.

Jim Toscano and Danny Gianino do an excellent job of weaving interviews with observational moments from Mike’s life. As an editor myself, having cut my share of full-length documentaries, I understand how difficult it can be to balance forward momentum while also honoring the depth of previously shot material. The film finds that balance. Paired with original music that subtly echoes the thematic spirit of the Rocky films, the experience becomes immersive and surprisingly easy to get lost in.

If you have time on a Saturday night, I highly recommend watching it. The Pretender is currently available on YouTube under Gravitas Documentaries, and it is well worth your time.

Doc This Reviews gives it an 8.1 out of 10.

Plot: When Mike Kunda saw the movie Rocky at age eleven, his life was changed forever. What began as simple fandom became an obsession, one that forty years later continues to shape his identity in ways he could never have imagined.

Directed by Jim Toscano

Characters: Starring Mike Kunda, Sue Kunda, and Mike Kunda Sr.