Television journalist Steve Hartman came to fame for light-hearted segments, fluff pieces designed to bring viewer's moods up at the end of a program. That changed in 1997, with the Columbine school shooting. Since then, he has devoted himself to doing a weekly report on the school shootings that have occurred in that seven day stretch. “All the Empty Rooms” represents an evolution of this project. For seven years, he traveled to the homes of the families whose children have been killed in these infuriatingly common, all-too-preventable acts of violence. With photographer Lou Bopp in tow, photos were taken of the now unoccupied bedrooms of the children whose lives were cut short so senselessly. The documentary focuses on the last three families Hartman visits and chronicles for this project.
As an act of journalism, “All the Empty Rooms” is clearly meant to re-center the human element within the debate around this on-going crisis. The film does not bother with statistics about school shootings. It does not discuss the politics of the situation, never once mentioning gun control laws, activism in favor of them, or the gun company lobbyists who kill these bills and the politicians who receive kickbacks because of it. Hartman, photographer Lou Bopp, and director Joshua Seftel focus entirely on the families left incomplete. The camera lingers on the children's rooms, often left largely untouched since the day of their deaths. There is a heartbreaking contrast between the childish images we see – a room decorated in Spongbob merchandise, a bed full of stuffed animals, a favorite blanket – and the grim reminder that this young life has been violently ripped away. The parents and siblings have often been living with this grief for years, some seeming resigned to the absence of their children while others still break down into tears when discussing the topic.
It is incredibly sad to watch. The home movies and photos of these kids make them seem so alive, so youthful, a whole life before them. I don't know how any parent endures that kind of loss. “All the Empty Rooms” is a powerful experience for putting these emotions on-screen. It's also a frustrating one because of its decision to not focus on the politics of this situation. Because this doesn't have to happen multiple times every week. This kind of heartbreak and loss need not be so commonplace. The top review on Letterboxd for “All the Empty Rooms” says that it should be “five hours long and every politician should be made to watch it.” I'm inclined to agree but only if the vision is more purified. Hartman takes time to tell his own story and how this project came about, which is largely unnecessary. A film devoted entirely to reminders of what has been destroyed, ending with a reminder that lawmakers can do something about this if they actually give a shit, would be most effective. [7/10]
Armed with Only a Camera: The Life and Death of Brent Renaud (2025)
As an act of journalism, “All the Empty Rooms” is clearly meant to re-center the human element within the debate around this on-going crisis. The film does not bother with statistics about school shootings. It does not discuss the politics of the situation, never once mentioning gun control laws, activism in favor of them, or the gun company lobbyists who kill these bills and the politicians who receive kickbacks because of it. Hartman, photographer Lou Bopp, and director Joshua Seftel focus entirely on the families left incomplete. The camera lingers on the children's rooms, often left largely untouched since the day of their deaths. There is a heartbreaking contrast between the childish images we see – a room decorated in Spongbob merchandise, a bed full of stuffed animals, a favorite blanket – and the grim reminder that this young life has been violently ripped away. The parents and siblings have often been living with this grief for years, some seeming resigned to the absence of their children while others still break down into tears when discussing the topic.
It is incredibly sad to watch. The home movies and photos of these kids make them seem so alive, so youthful, a whole life before them. I don't know how any parent endures that kind of loss. “All the Empty Rooms” is a powerful experience for putting these emotions on-screen. It's also a frustrating one because of its decision to not focus on the politics of this situation. Because this doesn't have to happen multiple times every week. This kind of heartbreak and loss need not be so commonplace. The top review on Letterboxd for “All the Empty Rooms” says that it should be “five hours long and every politician should be made to watch it.” I'm inclined to agree but only if the vision is more purified. Hartman takes time to tell his own story and how this project came about, which is largely unnecessary. A film devoted entirely to reminders of what has been destroyed, ending with a reminder that lawmakers can do something about this if they actually give a shit, would be most effective. [7/10]
Brent Renaud was a documentary filmmaker and journalist murdered by Russian troops while covering the invasion of Ukraine. Renaud had the philosophy of going right into war zones and disaster stricken areas and pointing his camera right at the death and destruction. His brother, Charles, is also a filmmaker and sometimes accompanied him on his journey. After Brent's death, Charles assembled “Armed with Only a Camera.” It combines footage Brent shot from across his lengthy career, with home movies and new footage filmed by Charles of Brent's funeral.
To speak negatively of “Armed with Only a Camera” feels like speaking ill of the dead. I do believe there is value in what Renaud did. “Seeing is believing,” or so the saying goes, which means capturing video of war crimes and dire disasters proves that these things happened. That is important. Intent matters too though. Renaud was in Haiti after the 2017 earthquake. He was right in the aftermath of a car bombing in Somalia. He interviewed villagers in Afghanistan following a bombing by U.S. forces. He followed soldiers into action in Iraq. “Armed with Only a Camera” puts parts of that footage up on-screen and it is bracing. We see victims on the operating table, wounds bandaged, limbs freshly amputated. There are injured kids, dead bodies, people begging for water, a woman describing watching a roof collapse and crush her mother. During these moments, I found myself thinking something crucial: How can you simply point a camera at these things, instead of feeling compelled to help? Why record people begging for fresh water rather than give them fresh water? I certainly hope he did help in other ways. Is showing these things to rich white people in America going to make the situation in foreign countries any better?
As I felt when watching past nominees like “20 Days in Mariupal” or “For Sama,” I found myself wondering what can be gained from being shown these images. There's footage in “Armed with Only a Camera” of people screaming in agony from their wounds. After Brent's death, his brother points the camera right at his corpse, to show us it bloodied and broken. Where does journalism end and exploitation begin? These questions are all the more troubling because “Armed with Only a Camera” is essentially a video eulogy for Renaud. Scenes of him talking about being an adult with autism or playing with his dog is paired right next to the violent footage. Is this meant to show off how brave Brent was? Or was these scenes selected for their “power?” To bring attention to the person holding the camera and not the suffering on the other side? Further muddying the waters is how jarring the editing is. Eulogies at the funeral cut back to footage shot from different time periods. This back-and-forth continues over the thirty minute runtime. The film ends with text describing how often journalists are now being killed. Put together, it all feels unfocused, uncomfortable, and uncertain in what it's trying to accomplish. [5/10]
Forgive the somewhat odd grammar of “Children No More: Were and Are Gone.” The title comes from the activism group the film is chronicling. That would be Children No More, a Tel Aviv based collection of Israeli citizens against the war in Gaza. Every day, the group organizer looks up the children that have been killed in Gaza by military action the night before. For the ones that have photos, she prints out their name, a picture, and an epitaph simply saying they “were but are now gone.” (Eventually, it's decided to hold up paintings of flowers for the children that do not have photographs.) The activists gather in public places, in silence, and display these signs. This, unsurprisingly, makes the organization controversial in their home country. They are often verbally abused by people passing by.
How much you get out of “Children No More” depends on how valuable you think protest is at enacting change. I am, admittedly, cynical about the power of a group coming together to peacefully rally around a cause. As a person of Jewish descent who also thinks killing kids is fucked-up and that Palestine is effectively a country-sized prison, I certainly relate to the plight of the people profiled here. Living in a country committing war crimes sucks, I say as an American. However, does standing around in public with a bunch of paper signs accomplish anything? I think calling attention to what Israel is doing, especially by shining a light on how innocent lives are being ended, is necessary. But are the activists out on the streets because they want to help or because they want to mitigate their own guilt? How much of this protest is performative? If they really wanted to help, wouldn't they be in Gaza, personally putting their lives on the line for those endangered?
Considering the perspective of “Children No More” is directly on the protestors, that question becomes more pertinent. The entire second half of the short is devoted to people on the streets questioning the protestors, shouting profanity at them, telling them they are idiots, that Hamas wants them dead. One guy jogs by with his middle finger up. And it sucks to hold the obviously, morally correct position on a major issue – killing children is bad! – and have a lot of people consider you wrong or evil simply for expressing that. But I think those in Gaza probably deserve the sympathy and the spotlight more. “Children No More” is well made. I think the interviews with the organizers of the group are well-intentioned. I agree with what they are coming from. I hope these protestors are also raising money to send aide to the West Bank. [6/10]
How much you get out of “Children No More” depends on how valuable you think protest is at enacting change. I am, admittedly, cynical about the power of a group coming together to peacefully rally around a cause. As a person of Jewish descent who also thinks killing kids is fucked-up and that Palestine is effectively a country-sized prison, I certainly relate to the plight of the people profiled here. Living in a country committing war crimes sucks, I say as an American. However, does standing around in public with a bunch of paper signs accomplish anything? I think calling attention to what Israel is doing, especially by shining a light on how innocent lives are being ended, is necessary. But are the activists out on the streets because they want to help or because they want to mitigate their own guilt? How much of this protest is performative? If they really wanted to help, wouldn't they be in Gaza, personally putting their lives on the line for those endangered?
Considering the perspective of “Children No More” is directly on the protestors, that question becomes more pertinent. The entire second half of the short is devoted to people on the streets questioning the protestors, shouting profanity at them, telling them they are idiots, that Hamas wants them dead. One guy jogs by with his middle finger up. And it sucks to hold the obviously, morally correct position on a major issue – killing children is bad! – and have a lot of people consider you wrong or evil simply for expressing that. But I think those in Gaza probably deserve the sympathy and the spotlight more. “Children No More” is well made. I think the interviews with the organizers of the group are well-intentioned. I agree with what they are coming from. I hope these protestors are also raising money to send aide to the West Bank. [6/10]
“The Devil is Busy” is one day in the life of the staff at an Atlanta, Georgia abortion clinic. It mostly centers on Tracii, who is the head of security. She arrives early in the morning. She checks the bags of every woman who enters the building. She protects them from the ever-present protestors outside. She looks the scared, uncertain women and girls in the eyes and tells them she's going to take care of them. We also see interviews with the women who answer the phones, who have the hard job of informing the desperate people calling whether they can be helped or not. The documentary was filmed in 2001, before Roe V. Wade was overturned and reproduction rights became even more restricted in this country. The doctors and ultrasound techs are also interviewed, each giving their philosophy behind a necessary service that feels increasingly endangered.
While the activism in “Children No More” and “Armed with Only a Camera” actively made me wonder how much good was accomplished, there's no doubt in my mind that “The Devil is Busy” depicts people truly making a difference. Tracii emerges immediately as the noblest of characters. Her intentions are never more complicated than helping others. She does not judge, simply understanding that life puts everyone on a difficult path sometimes. She herself is a religious woman and notes the hypocrisy of the protestors outside. Which includes a man previously convicted of a hate crime, of burning down a black church, who insists he's repented and is therefore in God's good graces now. Tracii, meanwhile, still feels guilt over her own abortion she had in her youth but is nevertheless determined to help everyone that comes through those doors. When she breaks down in tears, I wanted to step through the screen and give her a hug.
Tracii is not the only brave person depicted in “The Devil is Busy.” The doctors and surgeons argued for the existentialism of what they do while acknowledging that they are in danger every day. That the laws around them could change at any minute. They voice their concerns but never falter in their mission. Putting yourself between those who need assistance and those determined to harm them, that is true heroism to me. The fly-on-the-wall structure of “The Devil is Busy” helps clarify how, stressful and perilous as this situation may be, it's just another day for these people. The final image is Tracii stepping through an exit, heading home, knowing she'll have to come back and do it all again tomorrow. If there is a God above, I hope those that help the helpless are favored more than those screaming harassment at the scared and hopeless. [9/10]
While the activism in “Children No More” and “Armed with Only a Camera” actively made me wonder how much good was accomplished, there's no doubt in my mind that “The Devil is Busy” depicts people truly making a difference. Tracii emerges immediately as the noblest of characters. Her intentions are never more complicated than helping others. She does not judge, simply understanding that life puts everyone on a difficult path sometimes. She herself is a religious woman and notes the hypocrisy of the protestors outside. Which includes a man previously convicted of a hate crime, of burning down a black church, who insists he's repented and is therefore in God's good graces now. Tracii, meanwhile, still feels guilt over her own abortion she had in her youth but is nevertheless determined to help everyone that comes through those doors. When she breaks down in tears, I wanted to step through the screen and give her a hug.
Tracii is not the only brave person depicted in “The Devil is Busy.” The doctors and surgeons argued for the existentialism of what they do while acknowledging that they are in danger every day. That the laws around them could change at any minute. They voice their concerns but never falter in their mission. Putting yourself between those who need assistance and those determined to harm them, that is true heroism to me. The fly-on-the-wall structure of “The Devil is Busy” helps clarify how, stressful and perilous as this situation may be, it's just another day for these people. The final image is Tracii stepping through an exit, heading home, knowing she'll have to come back and do it all again tomorrow. If there is a God above, I hope those that help the helpless are favored more than those screaming harassment at the scared and hopeless. [9/10]
After four rather heavy productions, “Perfectly a Strangeness” arrives to at least offer a change in pace in 2026's slate of Oscar nominated documentary shorts. Directed by filmmaker Alison McAlpine, who specializes in scenic consideration of the natural world, “Perfectly a Strangeness” follows three donkeys. They are named Paloma, Ruperto, and Palaye. I'm not sure which is which though. They wander around a desert in an unknown land. The three beasts of burden come across an astronomical observatory. The machines inside the building seem to function without any human interaction. What do the simple animals make of the science of observing the stars? Your guess is as good as mine.
When the nominations in this category were first announced and people started to watch some of the docs, the general response to “Perfectly a Strangeness” was confusion and bafflement. Compared to the other nominees, this is practically a narrative-free experience that doesn't seem to be commenting on any on-going real world crises or concerns. I suspect the film probably tests the limits of the “documentary” genre as well. Are we to assume that the camera crew started following these donkeys around, hoping they would wander towards something interesting? Or where they directed towards the observatory on purpose? One can probably come to the likelier answer. Either way, the question of what exactly the filmmaker was documenting here remains. To put it bluntly, “what was the point of that?”
I don't know if I have an answer. I think McAlpine is probably obliquely commenting on the separation between nature and the man-made realm of science. The donkeys and the desert around them simply exists. The telescope must serve a function, must forge a purpose for itself to justify why it is there. Or maybe we are meant to draw parallels between mankind's insistence on observing the stars and the donkeys observing technology they have no way of understanding. Needless to say, this is the kind of movie that gives as much back as the viewer is willing to put into it. Personally, I can vibe with it. I don't mind hanging out with some donkeys wandering around the desert for fifteen minutes. The lack of any dialogue or people at all makes me imagines this is some post-human, far-future scenario. Mankind's machines continue on without us but the animals are simply doing what animals always do. It is certainly interesting though whether you're able to get much of anything out of it is strictly a matter of personal preference. [7/10]
When the nominations in this category were first announced and people started to watch some of the docs, the general response to “Perfectly a Strangeness” was confusion and bafflement. Compared to the other nominees, this is practically a narrative-free experience that doesn't seem to be commenting on any on-going real world crises or concerns. I suspect the film probably tests the limits of the “documentary” genre as well. Are we to assume that the camera crew started following these donkeys around, hoping they would wander towards something interesting? Or where they directed towards the observatory on purpose? One can probably come to the likelier answer. Either way, the question of what exactly the filmmaker was documenting here remains. To put it bluntly, “what was the point of that?”
I don't know if I have an answer. I think McAlpine is probably obliquely commenting on the separation between nature and the man-made realm of science. The donkeys and the desert around them simply exists. The telescope must serve a function, must forge a purpose for itself to justify why it is there. Or maybe we are meant to draw parallels between mankind's insistence on observing the stars and the donkeys observing technology they have no way of understanding. Needless to say, this is the kind of movie that gives as much back as the viewer is willing to put into it. Personally, I can vibe with it. I don't mind hanging out with some donkeys wandering around the desert for fifteen minutes. The lack of any dialogue or people at all makes me imagines this is some post-human, far-future scenario. Mankind's machines continue on without us but the animals are simply doing what animals always do. It is certainly interesting though whether you're able to get much of anything out of it is strictly a matter of personal preference. [7/10]
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