Restrepo and Wasteland (both 2010)

Documentaries are fast becoming the sole way to open the eyes of filmgoers to the world not just around us, but on the other side of the planet.

“Restrepo” perfectly fits the bill. Directed with journalistic just-the-facts terseness by Sebastian Junger and Tim Hetherington, it follows a U.S. Army combat unit in Afghanistan’s infamous Korengal Valley. With boots fresh on the ground, the unit’s most popular member is killed: Juan Restrepo, a Columbian native who made the United States his home. The surviving men dedicate themselves afterward to his honor.

Filmed on location with follow-up interviews later, the viewer is shown every aspect of these men’s existence: Days of boredom, and then sudden, constant attacks by snipers. The stress is immense: Who can you trust? What happens when you frack an enemy hideout and kill a child? This is riveting, heart-breaking and heroic material, about American men putting their lives on the line, half a world away. The interviews pack devastating emotional punch. A late-in-the-film gun battle is nearly too much to bear, and thankfully, nothing too graphic is shown. This is a must-watch for any and all adult Americans, no matter the political stripe, and lands high on my favorites films of 2010. It’s simply just unshakable. Shockingly, Hetherington was killed in combat in 2011, filming in Libya. A

There is no violence in “Wasteland,” unless you count the economic destitution that can suck the breath out of a viewer. This documentary follows modern artist Vik Muniz – he does wild stuff with a camera – as he spearheads a project involving dozens of people who (barely) make a living by scavenging recyclable material from mountains of fetid garbage at a massive landfill in Rio de Janeiro. Muniz’s idea: Form large, intricate images with found trash, and photograph the image as art. The subjects are the scavengers themselves: A young mother, an elderly man and a young father attempting to form a union for his fellow scavengers, to protect their rights and lives. The scavengers suffer from diseases and fungi, and have seen dead bodies thrown in the trash, but they are glad for any employment. (Heartbreaking.)

Muniz, a Brazilian, knows he is walking a fine line: Exploiting the workers, or lifting them up. A couple scenes (Muniz and his wife argue) feel a bit stilted (reenacted?) for the camera, and the subtitles fly by too fast, but these are small complaints against a story that, like the best of art., should be shared with all. A-

Exit Through the Gift Shop (2010)

Is “Exit Through the Gift Shop” a true documentary or a prank by all involved? I don’t know. I’ve never seen another documentary with so many one-liners, where even an old lady dishes out a LOL hilarious comment on a piece of street art. Ninety percent of this flick’s joy comes from wondering what’s real, what’s fictional, and where and when the satire comes and goes. The gist: French-American retailer and OCD video camera freak Thierry Guetta becomes obsessed with illegal street art and eventually crosses paths with the illusive and infamous artist Banksy (always in shadow). Guetta proposes a documentary film. Banksy agrees. But tables are turned, and Banksy turns the cameras on Guetta, who himself turns artist. Guetta is a fascinating character. I admired his passion for daredevil artists, hated his dismissal of wife and children, and laughed out loud at his brash pride at ripping off dead artists. Yet, all this may be a jokey stab at eccentric artists and the rich elite who pander to them. Deadpan narration by Rhys Ivans only adds to the intrigue. A

Art of the Steal (2010)

My hometown of Philadelphia takes a beating in “Art of the Steal,” a documentary on how the City of Brotherly Love snatched a $25 billion art collection from its “over-my-cold-dead-body” owner. Alas, Albert Barnes is cold and dead. His detractors? Alive and powerful. They want his art. The collection? Chock full of Van Gogh, Cezanne, and Matisse. Swoon. Stuff to make an art lover weep. The problem: Barnes wanted the works outside the city in a rural estate, surrounded by tranquility. He hated the Philly tourist zoo and the rush-job visit so many take at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Director Don Argott absolutely takes Barnes’ side and pisses on Billy Penn’s well-shined face. And … so what? This tale has fascinating talking heads, a gripping pace that left me wondering what happens, even though I knew, and leaves room to scream, “No!” and take the side of the city commissioners and nonprofit Godzillas. Just to see the art on camera is a treat. I want to see the real deals pronto. A