In a time when police violence and systemic racism are in the spotlight, Incident offers a stark look at the aftermath of a deadly encounter. The film dives deep into the complexities of power, blame, and accountability in the wake of tragedy. Incident recreates the event and its consequences, featuring vain justifications, altercations, and attempts to avoid blame. Bill Morrison delivers a chilling political investigation in search of the truth. 

This feels like the apex of documentary filmmaking. The facts are laid out so plainly and directly that I’m left not only frustrated but also speechless, overwhelmed by the sheer power of the presentation. There’s no embellishment, no sugarcoating—just the raw truth, presented without apology through Google Earth images and street cam videos of all things. In that stark simplicity, I find myself with nothing more to add, no further words to express the gravity of what’s being shown. It’s a rare thing for a film to leave you both silenced and provoked, but this one does so with such force that it lingers, leaving me grappling with the weight of its unflinching tragedy and spotlighting the incompetence and brutality of the Chicago PD. I don’t think anyone could walk out of this film on the side of the police. This is not about being pro-cop or ACAB; it’s about a flawed system, the racism that is its framework, and the violence that is seemingly too easy to commit.

I Am Ready Warden is a split-perspective documentary. It moves between the lives the two central characters are forced to live, the morals the documentary presents, the media and the victims, and quite literally between the private conversations the victims are having—whether it be phone calls in backyards or interviews in living rooms. This creates real nuance around the issue, one that fosters empathy rather than a narrow leap to judgment. The viewer is made to feel as though this is happening to them, that they must face the severity of the tragedy head-on.

I am wholeheartedly against the death penalty, and this film didn’t change my view one way or the other. However, it did allow me to feel for these people and confront the horrors of this inhumane system through their eyes.

The film’s structure recalls Werner Herzog’s Into the Abyss, which similarly explores the death penalty, though in a longer, more narrative-driven format. I Am Ready Warden distinguishes itself by its sharp, dual perspective: dividing the narrative between the murderer and the victim. This approach invites the viewer to wrestle with the complexities of the system it seeks to critique. While I may not share the victim’s pro-death stance, the film humanizes him in a way that compels empathy, regardless of ideological differences. The short documentary format serves the film well, delivering a concise and pointed thesis. By the time we reach the final shot—a chilling letter, ending with the man on death row writing I Am Ready Warden—the audience has been fully immersed in an almost unimaginable reality, feeling the weight of the traumatic lives these individuals are forced to endure.

This was the most fun of the bunch. The sense of exhilaration that pulses through this short documentary is nothing short of infectious. In just twenty minutes, it perfectly encapsulates the fierce independence, quiet insecurity, and boundless curiosity that characterize children on the cusp of self-discovery. Watching it, I was truly taken back to my second-grade years, when I was tackling skills that felt daunting and larger than life at the time. The authenticity this embodies showcases a powerful reminder of how formative those early years truly are.

“This is my theory for how to enjoy your life incredibly. You don’t mind playing second fiddle.” – Orin O’Brien.

I’ll be honest: I shed a tear watching this. It’s like stepping into a woman’s world, a quiet, intimate place where you feel like a friend dropping by for coffee. The energy is palpable, the pacing sharp—each moment feels alive in a way that keeps you hooked. There’s no clear hero here. Orin is already a seasoned pro, a woman who’s earned her place. But still, you find yourself rooting for her. Maybe it’s because, in a world where women are constantly asked to prove their worth, seeing someone like Orin just exist with confidence and grace feels like a kind of quiet revolution. The celebration here is loud and organized like the  New York philharmonic—it’s earned, and it’s beautiful. 

Between the haunting montages of the grim reaper and the intensely dark prose, there is something deeply relevant about this documentary. It’s difficult to separate the subject matter from the art in Death By Numbers, as the film’s primary focus is to explore the grief and despair experienced by survivors of a school shooting. I want to be sensitive to that, as I have not lived through what Samantha Fuentes has endured. I’m judging a film, not someone's personal grief process. That said, I do feel that the stylistic choices in the doc occasionally feel stunted. Perhaps this was intentional, but it pulled me out of the story at times. Some of the stylistic choices—those dramatic, goth Tumblr-esque montages and dark prose—feel forced. The elements that seemed most worth delving into felt underexplored, and as a result, they came across as half-formed.

One of the most compelling moments comes during Sam’s speech in court, confronting her assailant. That moment felt raw and powerful—effective in a way that much of the documentary strives for. Death By Numbers certainly makes an impact, pushing me to think deeply about the horrors American school children face. The film does a commendable job of calling out the psychotic, narcissistic nature of the killers and pushing back against the power they sought to claim. However, I wish the documentary had dug deeper into certain aspects of its narrative. For instance, the juxtaposition of a white supremacist school shooter attacking a Holocaust studies class is compelling, yet in the film, this idea feels underdeveloped. It’s a story that deserved a deeper exploration.