It takes real bravery and importance to show the horrors of social, political, and ethnic persecution, especially when many people are unaware of what’s happening. However, documenting such events can be hard on those doing the recording, as seen in the disturbing images captured in their accounts. This was certainly true for South African photographer Ernest Cole (1940-1990), who took striking and troubling photos of apartheid in his home country during the early 1960s. By doing so, he put himself at risk, often having to take pictures secretly and while on the run. Yet, Cole was still able to record candid images showing how Black citizens were treated harshly by a brutal, uncaring, insensitive White population, sometimes with help from other Africans. Cole eventually left for the US, where he was soon exiled by South African authorities after publishing *House of Bondage* (1967), a book of photos depicting the country’s apartheid practices, which was then banned in his homeland. Once in America, though, Cole felt disappointed to find legally permitted prejudice impacting Blacks in the Southern states under Jim Crow Laws. That disappointment, along with severe homesickness and what seemed like the beginning of depression, led him to stop doing the photographic work that had made him famous. Over the next two decades, he moved around without a clear direction, including periods in Sweden and elsewhere before returning to the US, gradually fading from public view (including the mysterious disappearance of his photographic archives) and becoming homeless on the streets of New York before his death in 1990. Writer-director Raoul Peck tells Cole’s story through a mostly first-person narrative that uses what are said to be his own words and photos, which is an interesting way to present his life. And for the film's initial portion, this approach works very well. However, after the midpoint, the movie starts to falter. The straightforward chronological storytelling used at first is often abandoned in favor of a confusingly jumbled timeline. Also, Cole’s words sometimes feel repetitive, and the reasons behind his artistic withdrawal (and its effects) remain unclear, with many important details missing. It's also strange that Cole seems able to comment on events that occurred after he died, like the unbelievable rediscovery of much of his archive material in a Swedish bank vault in 2017. Sadly, these changes hurt all the good work the filmmaker did at the beginning. These are certainly puzzling developments, as they affect parts of the film that were working well initially, such as its skillful editing, which doesn’t hold up nearly as well later on. Fortunately, some elements remain consistently strong throughout, like LaKeith Stanfield's captivating narration as the protagonist, Alexei Aigui’s excellent original score, and the carefully chosen photos and archive footage used to tell Cole’s story. If the second half had been put together as well as the first, this would have truly been an outstanding documentary. But as it is now, it feels like a project that was only partially completed, which is unfortunate for such a compelling story about a talented, mysterious figure.

Source on TMDB