MLK/FBI is an excellent, excellent documentary/film essay with high production values, but it's important to note off the bat that the intended audience are viewers who already have a basic knowledge of the major beats of the Civil Rights Movement in the US. This is a documentary very specifically about Martin Luther King's persecution by the FBI, not about the Movement in general, so foreign viewers (and sadly, some US ones) might want to glance over a couple Wikipedia articles before seeing the film.
Those who thought that Dr. King's only enemies were some hillbilly sheriffs in Alabama and Mississippi will be shocked to learn that declassified documents revealed that J. Edgar Hoover and the FBI thought of him as a dangerous menace and sent him letters telling him to kill himself. And, depending on what else is revealed in 2027, that may be only the tip of the iceberg.
During the documentary, we hear the historians (and by proxy, the director himself) reckoning with the thorny ethical question that by discussing these issues, whether we are complicit in the FBI's unlawful and invasion of his privacy. Ultimately, the film seems to conclude that hopefully in 2020 we collectively have the maturity to understand that none of it takes away from what he achieved.
The film is more traditionally a documentary than I Am Not Your Negro, but shares some of Peck's stylistic touches. Pollard has various historians narrate the story without showing their faces, relying wholly on stock footage and photographs. This is generally what I prefer in historical documentaries, putting you wholly in a time and place and not cutting away to contemporary talking heads.
Those who thought that Dr. King's only enemies were some hillbilly sheriffs in Alabama and Mississippi will be shocked to learn that declassified documents revealed that J. Edgar Hoover and the FBI thought of him as a dangerous menace and sent him letters telling him to kill himself. And, depending on what else is revealed in 2027, that may be only the tip of the iceberg.
During the documentary, we hear the historians (and by proxy, the director himself) reckoning with the thorny ethical question that by discussing these issues, whether we are complicit in the FBI's unlawful and invasion of his privacy. Ultimately, the film seems to conclude that hopefully in 2020 we collectively have the maturity to understand that none of it takes away from what he achieved.
The film is more traditionally a documentary than I Am Not Your Negro, but shares some of Peck's stylistic touches. Pollard has various historians narrate the story without showing their faces, relying wholly on stock footage and photographs. This is generally what I prefer in historical documentaries, putting you wholly in a time and place and not cutting away to contemporary talking heads.