Sheffield DocFest — A–Z of films

A meditative twilight piece best seen late at night.

The very nature of Tsemel's passion for her projects makes this a compelling watch

This consideration of multiple lives, rather than one constructed arc serves to underline the sense that each person is only a small cog turning in the bigger wheel of the machine.

Having delivered shock and awe in the first half on the film, Baichwal turns in the second half to projects that are small but growing fast, new approaches to old ways of doing things.

Despite knowing, thanks to the consumption of a dozen or so books, how things would play out...I still found myself tensing up when we see the Eagle lunar lander begin its descent

Whilst one cannot imagine that the film provides quite the propaganda he might have hoped for, understanding the subtlety of what Klayman has created requires a type of empathy that it's not clear he possesses.

A concise and sharp illustration of one of the many vicious cycles we have entered into as we continue our dubious husbandry of the planet.

The sight of a four month old child standing upright on Snorri's hand, raised up above the water, will simultaneously awe and terrify many parents.

There's a lot of ground to cover, but Costa keeps a strong grip on the material

Al-Kateab and Watt capture not just the horror of war but the vibrancy of those attempting to carry on their lives as best they can against its backdrop.

At times this documentary risks becoming too obvious; at others, Lane's sharp eye for the mistakes people make in assuming things to be obvious is what makes it work.

The directors let the humanism shine out without resorting to sentimentality, capturing moments of joy, such as the pleasure of shared, sticky honey with the same lack of artifice as moments of pain or grief.

In the background, in the heavy air, one can almost hear the words of TS Eliot. Is this how the world ends?

The very intimate, personal nature of this film imbues with authority and sensitivity.

There’s plenty of judgement to be passed, especially by cranky old writers like myself, but Mandelup does an admirable job of presenting her subjects on their own terms.

The documentary is clearly on the side of candidates, which is fine, but it could also benefit from a bit more scepticism and empathy for its auxiliary subjects.

This is not conventional narrative, start to end, born in, schooled at, died documentary.

It's the sort of film that humans and dogs can watch together, appreciating many of the same things.

Fluid and ever-changing, it evokes an immediate, fluid presence with none of the formality of death or history.

There's a genuine beauty here - this is as much a love letter to love as it is the story of a complicated relationship and the branches (Broomfield included) that sprang from it.

By keeping the camera in the back of the ambulance largely at a level above that of the various patients, Lorentzen ensures the film never becomes voyeuristic.

Unlike a more conventional refugee documentary - shot by an outsider parachuting in - this is an intimate and ongoing study in which the family have complete agency, lending the film an additional ring of truth.

There is something extremely sad about the collision of two women with each other.

Everything comes to life under Herzog's gaze, but rarely has he revealed so much of himself directly.

Wang and Zhang are to be commended for fitting as much in as they do, even if it does mean the film roams about rather than having a single focus.

James Jones and Olivier Sarbil's documentary is not the first film to explore this subject but it is remarkable in that it manages to tell the story from the point of view of police officers as well as addicts and civilian observers.

Lintner is good at gaining access to his fellow residents, though often assumes the viewer has the same understanding of these people as he does, offering what is a surface-level obso-doc on their interactions.

Push skips along briskly, making light, incisive work of an area that’s all too often mystified, but it feels like a pilot, rather than a self-contained work.

Taking its time and drifting lightly from one scene to another, this beautifully composed film really gets under the skin of its subjects, who seem marvellously at ease with the camera.

Finlay has a good eye for the details that help us connect to people and places.

You get the sense Masi wants Pepsi to be a pivot for the issues engulfing modern Europe, but in the process he often loses sight of her own story.

It’s when she interviews female members from activist groups and unions who formed relationships with undercover police that Solidarity acquires a deeper heft, its hitherto simmering threads now boiling to the surface.

The film is given an added poignancy because it has a specific personal connection to Naser.

Jurkiewicz drinks in all the life the village offers, almost imperceptibly soldering her own connections between the external environments and the internal, the women and the men, the traditional and the unexpected.

The stories are astonishing.

While content is important, it is context that is king in a documentary, and this film could do with a lot more of it to orient viewers, especially those who don't have a full working knowledge of the American South.

We are left with the bare facts of Chelsea's actions and her elevation to iconic status, without any real perspective.