The RZA, Cilvaringz, and Moongod Allah appear in THE DISCIPLE by Joanna Natasegara, an official selection of the 2026 Sundance Film Festival. Courtesy of Sundance Institute.

As has been articulated in past dispatches, there’s a storm of mixed emotions while being on the ground in Park City. In between acquisition talks and bidding wars for the festival’s buzziest titles, it was hard to remain fully focused on the films in light of the murder of Alex Pretti at the hands of ICE agents. The tension was best exemplified on Main Street, where most of the film’s after-parties and receptions took place, but it was also where protestors gathered to march. Even if the films didn’t all directly speak to the moment, three documentary films in the Premieres section offered a roadmap of hope for how to resist while remaining whole and how to carve your own path instead of accepting the scripts peddled by the gatekeepers with power. They’re all delightfully idiosyncratic by centering the drama of their stories in the dynamic personalities of their subjects.

Like a DJ who’s able to seamlessly transition from one song to the next, the miracle of director Joanna Natasegara’s “The Disciple” is that she’s able to weave together the two threads of her documentary, and find the ways that they amplify each other. For this appreciator but by no means expert in hip-hop, Natasegara’s work, which focuses on some of the key moments in the Wu-Tang Clan’s history, felt like a way to get caught up to speed on why they remain icons of music. It’s also interesting to get the rundown on the group’s significance through the perspective of a relatively new member of that world. Although RZA is credited as an executive producer, the Clan’s appearances are limited to older interviews. Rather than letting their voices overshadow this story, Natasegara’s film is an equalizing work, one that gives a less public-facing member a slice of the limelight.

It would be a disaster if the person she chose to focus on, Moroccan rapper-producer Tarik Azzougarh, better known as Cilvaringz, was not so down-to-earth and charismatic. From the start, he articulates that there’s a trepidation to documentary work because “You’re at the mercy of somebody’s vision of you.” His reflection introduces the film’s broader themes around ownership of narrative and story, and how the best intentions may not always manifest in the most desirable outcomes. Yet before the film’s more excitingly cinematic second half, Natasegara relishes in documenting how Cilvaringz’s hustle paid off. Cilvaringz was an avid fan of the Clan’s music, and eventually finds his way to be a part of their inner circle; the specifics of how are too fascinating to spoil, but it stems from Colvaringz’s belief that while he admired the Clan and their music, he viewed them as people first, those who had to eat, sleep, and live according to their calendars as much as anybody else. That understanding of what was shared made him feel more comfortable to shoot his shot.

Cilvaringz is eventually the one who ideates the rollout for Once Upon A Time in Shaolin, the group’s seventh studio album. Only one copy exists, and the idea was to create value and meaning rooted in this exclusivity (one does not simply make copies of the Mona Lisa, for example). Once corrupt CEO Martin Shkreli obtains the album, the film shifts to its other gear, focusing on the fallout of Shkreli’s ownership and how the album’s rollout caused tension amongst the group. Even if you were aware of the drama at the height of its intensity, it’s thrilling to relive. Cilvaringz went from idolizing the Clan to joining them to then being viewed as responsible for a rift between its members. This is the stuff of great fiction: the cost of flying too close to the sun, when money and ambition get in the way of brotherhood, and the power of faking it till you make it.

Jane Elliott appears in Jane Elliott Against the World by Judd Ehrlich, an official selection of the 2026 Sundance Film Festival. Courtesy of Sundance Institute | photo by Sean Hanley.

Of the three docs, there’s no film that best represents the synergy between form and its subject than “Jane Elliott Against the World.” Some of the very first lines of the film are Elliott saying, “Most people think of me as that miserable old bitch.” She’s quick to argue that the description would not be inaccurate, and this firecracker energy makes the film breeze by its 95 minutes. The film covers so much ground, as if trying to keep up with the speed at which she speaks and the dynamics of her ideas.

As the film’s initial story beats share, in the aftermath of Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination, Elliott, then a schoolteacher in Iowa, led a lesson to her all-white class about the dangers and harm of discrimination, which sparked national outrage, particularly from conservatives. At 90 years old, Elliott is not backing down, and it’s welcome to witness someone speak so explicitly and loudly about truths most people in this country would choose to disregard.

Two sections stand out and make this documentary feel more nuanced in spite of the celebration of its subject. When talking about White Christian Nationalism, Elliot cites the importance of her own faith. She describes herself as a Christian but lambasts those who claim the name of Jesus while they enact policies and adopt attitudes that go against human flourishing. She strives to embody the real teachings of Jesus, which include a radical sense of hospitality and an intolerance for bigotry that can easily entangle. When images and stories of faith are often being misconstrued and deployed harmfully, it’s refreshing to see her directly call out this dangerous conflation of faith and politics.

The film also isn’t afraid to explore the familial strain Elliott’s work has caused on her family. We’re privy to honest and painful conversations between Elliott and her kids, who acknowledge that while Elliott was very passionate about issues of social justice outside the home, in the home, she was neglectful. Conversations with Elliott and her children, in turn, make us wonder about whether it’s possible to maintain a healthy family life while doing justice work; it’s a balance many have failed to strike, with one always ending up as collateral for the other, and it’s a rare moment of honesty that questions whether the trade-off is worth it.

Elliot’s approach and tone will certainly not be for everyone, and there’s an aspect of this film that feels very much like it’s preaching to the choir (if you were a racist before, you’re probably not going to be convinced to change if an elderly white woman curses you out). But there’s a warm irony that despite the film’s title, she’s “against” the world; in reality, Elliott is very much for the world. She’s trying to create a space that is more equal and just, and is frustrated that people would ignore an invitation to this new way of seeing.

Nelson Mandela appears in Troublemaker by Antoine Fuqua, an official selection of the 2026 Sundance Film Festival. Courtesy of Sundance Institute.

Despite having directed “Training Day” and three “The Equalizer” movie (I also hold a soft spot for “The Magnificent Seven”), “Troublemaker,” a documentary that traces Nelson Mandela’s struggle against apartheid, is the most important film director Antoine Fuqua has made to date. Weaving a mix of intimately realized hand-drawn animation and a steady stream of Mandela’s voice recordings–which were recorded while he was writing his autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom–“Troublemaker” synthesizes personal testimony and a unique visual style to craft a touching tribute to a revolutionary whose work remains inspirational in the fight against oppressive government forces.

What’s most noteworthy about this project is Thabang Landohaye’s animation; it’s used frequently, which adds an exciting delivery of narrative details that could have been delivered just through archive footage. The hand-drawn animation looks like sketches in a notebook coming to life, adding a mythic element to the film and imbuing early moments with a weighty significance, whether focusing on Mandela’s early childhood in the royal court or the cinematic quality of his imprisonment. By giving memories the same sheen and form, it acts as a way to remember that our ideas of what happened to us can blur and end up blurring together and looking the same. You’re unlikely to learn new information that hasn’t already been explored in the numerous other projects that have documented his life, but there’s a handcrafted, no frills nature to this presentation that should make this readily accessible for those who need a

Mandela’s voice is prominently used, to the point where this feels very much like an audiobook autobiography and while it makes sense the film wouldn’t quite dive into this, the project is reverent perhaps to a fault, not critiquing the ways Mandela wasn’t always present for his children or how his commitment to the cause, while admirable, came at the cost of the women in his life who supported him. Mandela claims that the dissolution of his first marriage was due to political differences, but in subsequent relationships, he’d also cheat frequently, regardless of his present spouse’s political affiliation.

One of the most stirring moments of the film is when Mandela recounts his time in prison. While captured, he articulated how it’s not just the physical isolation that was painful, but the intellectual and spiritual; alone, where you’re disconnected from the movements and work people are doing, it’s easy to begin to doubt yourself, to think that your revolutionary work is not worth it. You see Mandela come to life when he is in the company of others to fight. As he reminds us, we may not be able to win every battle in the struggle, but we’ll certainly win more together than if we’re alone.

Zachary Lee

Zachary Lee is a freelance film and culture writer based in Chicago.