Rarely does a documentary manage to say so little with so much self-importance. This film treats its audience not as thoughtful participants but as passive receptacles for recycled ideas, poorly organized facts, and long-winded, empty pontificating.
From the start, the documentary mistakes footage for storytelling. It drags the viewer through an endless swamp of aimless interviews, irrelevant archival clips, and sluggish, self-congratulatory narration. It neither informs, nor enlightens, nor provokes - it simply exists, like a lecture no one asked for, delivered by someone who forgot their own point halfway through.
The structure is nonexistent. Scenes tumble into one another with no rhythm, no escalation, no argument. At best, it's lazy; at worst, it's insulting. By the end, it's unclear what the filmmakers were trying to prove - or if they even cared to.
Visually, it's a parade of uninspired shots: endless slow zooms on dusty documents, talking heads framed with all the imagination of a local news broadcast, and enough stock footage to make a PowerPoint presentation blush. Every stylistic choice feels less like a decision and more like a surrender.
Most damning of all, the documentary lacks the courage to confront its own subject matter. It dances around controversy without ever offering insight, as if terrified of alienating anyone or, worse, forcing the audience to think. It plays it safe, but mistakes safety for sophistication.
By the end, the only real mystery left is how this project was ever greenlit in the first place.
