The 15 Best Documentaries On Hulu Right Now

Although Hulu has plenty of original series and narrative films that have garnered acclaim over the years, it's also become a magnet for documentary filmmaking. From true crime dramas to political exposés and everything in between, the streamer has established itself as one of the genre's most prominent homes. Sure, everyone loves a little bit of popcorn entertainment to cozy up to on a lazy Sunday afternoon, but there's a lot to be said about films that interact with the real world, as the best documentaries do. 

With documentary filmmaking, viewers get the opportunity to educate themselves on topics as varied as public health crises, forgotten comic book artists, shocking scandals, and even murder trials. Ever wanted to learn more about very specific subjects, but in a palatable, easy-to-digest way? These documentaries will keep you enthralled throughout their entire runtime and leave you with a little bit more knowledge in your noodle than you started with. What's not to like?

For a lot of "Batman" fans, Bob Kane is widely remembered as the sole creator of the legendary Caped Crusader who has dominated the world of comic books since 1939. But there was another figure involved in his inception — Bill Finger, an early DC Comics stalwart — whose contributions to the character and his success have been largely erased from history. "Batman & Bill" seeks to remedy this by giving Finger the credit he deserves. 

Based on the novel "Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman" by Marc Tyler Nobleman, "Batman & Bill" digs through the murky origins of "Batman" to understand exactly where Bill Finger was cut out of the story. And more importantly, with the help of Finger's granddaughter, allowing the late artist to reclaim his rightful position in DC Comics history. Although comic book fans might stand to get the most out of this documentary, its narrative of an overlooked creator who is posthumously given their due will connect with audiences beyond the DC demographic.

These days, the definition of celebrity is changing faster than ever. Once upon a time, our A-Listers were actors, athletes, singers — now, it seems like with the advent of social media, people are becoming famous simply for being famous. This is at the heart of "Jawline," a documentary about a teenage boy named Austyn Tester who hopes to parlay his good looks and charisma into heartthrob status as a burgeoning influencer. Back in the 1990s, we had unscrupulous talent managers preying on dreamy teenagers to create boy bands — now we have people doing the exact same thing, but farming for the next big social media star. 

When your only goal is to become famous, however, your journey is bound to end up being more than a little shallow. "Jawline" luxuriates in the narcissism of an industry that packages up shiny young people like Austyn for consumption, while also extending grace to Austyn himself, as a kid from Tennessee who sees this strange and self-centered career path as his only ticket out of life in a small town.

COVID-19 feels as though it was both last week and 500 years ago at the same time. Our shared trauma from the pandemic has made most people eager to forget the days of quarantine and city lockdowns, which is why it's more important than ever that we don't forget those early days, when everything felt fully apocalyptic. Directed by Matthew Heineman, "The First Wave" sets its sights on a New York City hospital beginning in March 2020, when a terrifying new virus was making people terribly sick with seemingly no rhyme or reason. 

Hauntingly empty city streets are shown in contrast with the sheer chaos of the inside of Long Island Jewish Medical Center, where nurses and doctors are driven to their breaking point. Heartrending and incredibly powerful, "The First Wave" gives us a grim snapshot of a devastating moment in recent history that feels almost like war reporting in how boots-on-the-ground its approach to documentary filmmaking feels.

For years, Harvey Weinstein acted in Hollywood with impunity, safe in the knowledge that his power would protect him from any real consequences of his actions. But as we see in "Untouchable," a reckoning eventually came for the Hollywood producer and sexual abuser. It may not have been the Woodward and Bernstein-style expose that was responsible for setting off a chain of events that would see Weinstein behind bars — it came out long after revelations of Weinstein's misdeeds — but with the benefit of hindsight, "Untouchable" can take a more comprehensive view of the producer's career. 

It shows not just his fall from grace, but establishes exactly how powerful of a figure he was in Hollywood — crucially, how hard he was to say no to, and how much he could damage your career if you crossed him — at his height. This makes the efforts of women who helped bring him to justice, often hurting themselves in the process, all the more impressive in their courage and fortitude.

You know how sometimes it feels like the exact people who are convinced that everyone else is running around sinning their little heads off are actually the ones doing the most damage? Yeah, that's Jerry Falwell, Jr. The son of Jerry Falwell, noted televangelist and founder of Liberty University, Falwell Jr. is a conservative lawyer and the former president of Liberty University. Why the former president, you may ask? Well, "God Forbid" has the answer. 

Although Falwell Jr., as an evangelical Christian, preached a rigid set of morals supposedly guided by his faith that included fining students at Liberty University for the high crime of holding hands on campus, he didn't always practice what he preached. In 2020, he was party to a salacious sex scandal involving him, his wife, and their pool boy Giancarlo Granda, whose perspective we follow in "God Forbid." With a mountain of hypocrisy unearthed, Falwell Jr. resigned in disgrace from his position at Liberty University.

For over a hundred years, socialism has been a conservative boogeyman. To propose any sort of new social nets to help improve the lives of Americans is to be met with jeers of "Socialist!" from the far right, and to actually label yourself as a democratic socialist has been, until very recently, a political dead end. "The Big Scary 'S' Word" attempts to demystify the commonly accepted (and frequently grounded in ignorance) definition of socialism, and the role it has always played in the United States in spite of its baggage. 

Operating as a primer for those who may not realize how richly intertwined socialism is in the American system, "The Big Scary 'S' Word" combines historical records and modern-day interviews with both politicians and the average Joe to offer a more nuanced view of the socio-political philosophy. With straightforward storytelling and common-sense examples of socialism in practice around the country, "The Big Scary 'S' Word" goes a long way in normalizing a school of thought that has long been demonized.

When documentary directors start working on a project, they often have a general idea of what direction their narrative is going to take. But in the case of "Homeroom," filmmaker Peter Nicks had to transition midway, when events related to his documentary took a turn that no one could have expected. In the beginning, the film is focused on the fight of students at Oakland High School to have police officers removed from their campus. Their presence makes many members of their high school community feel unsafe and targeted, they argue, resulting in a less-than-supportive academic environment.

But in the midst of this battle, something unexpected happens. The COVID-19 virus sweeps across the nation, and Oakland High School has taken its classes fully remote. Nicks swiftly shifts gears, now documenting the struggles of these students as they attempt to wrap up their senior year, prepare for college, and maintain some semblance of normality under decidedly abnormal circumstances. Aside from the nimble filmmaking skills on display, "Homeroom" highlights just how abrupt a disturbance COVID-19 was for students forced to adapt to chaos.

The Boy Scouts of America (now rebranded as Scouting America) has a storied legacy that dates back to its inception in 1910, creating an organization that provides boys with a thorough grounding in citizenship, practical survival skills, and character building. And although the scouting experience has undoubtedly been of great benefit to generations of young men, it's held within a structure that is also capable of concealing abuse, as we see in "Leave No Trace."

In 2020, over 80,000 former Boy Scouts filed suit against the organization for sexual abuse, which, from the sheer number of plaintiffs involved, seems to have been running distressingly rampant throughout the Boy Scouts of America. After the revelation that Boy Scout leadership had been actively covering up these assaults, the organization hit rock bottom, eventually filing for bankruptcy. "Leave No Trace" offers a glimpse of the painstaking work that went into exposing this abuse, while also giving a voice to its many victims.

If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual assault, help is available. Visit the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network website or contact RAINN's National Helpline at 1-800-656-HOPE (4673).

Maternal death rates in the United States are a source of unending but seemingly underreported shame — in comparison with most other wealthy, developed countries, our healthcare system too often treats women as disposable incubators during the process of childbirth. And the numbers only get worse when you look at the death rate of pregnant Black women, which is shockingly high, as "Aftershock" highlights. Revolving around the tragic and ultimately avoidable deaths of two Black women in childbirth in America, "Aftershock" shows their grieving partners turn to activism in an attempt to prevent this from happening to other families.

In conjunction with these modern-day stories, "Aftershock" delves into the past, providing historical context for a U.S. maternal healthcare system that has so frequently failed Black women. In doing so, it provides a comprehensive look at a public health crisis that is both heartbreaking and infuriating, steeped in history and disturbingly relevant today.

You know what garners more attention than a high-profile murder case? A high-profile murder case that happens to involve an heir to a real estate fortune. That's what we get in "The Jinx: The Life and Deaths of Robert Durst," a true crime miniseries about Robert Durst. Until participating in this documentary series, Durst had never sat down with a journalist to tell his story, which began in earnest in 1982 when he was considered a suspect in the suspicious disappearance of his wife, Kathleen McCormack. For the next two decades, he was linked to two other murders, one of which — the 2001 killing of Morris Black — he went to trial for but was ultimately acquitted.

But as fascinating as the documentary "The Jinx" is, its most memorable moment happened off-screen. Just before the finale was aired, Durst was charged with the 2000 murder of Susan Berman, for which he was sentenced to life imprisonment, and he died in jail in 2022. Without the renewed interest in Durst as a suspect thanks to "The Jinx," it's entirely possible he would never have been brought to justice — just in case you were wondering how much of an impact the best true crime documentaries can have.

Shown through the eyes of first-time filmmaker Bing Liu, "Minding the Gap" explores the lives of three teenage boys who are united in their shared love of skateboarding. Although they come from seemingly different backgrounds, skateboarding is not the only thing they have in common — they all grew up in households where they experienced abuse in one form or another, abuse that has shaped each of them as they stand on the cusp of adulthood and define who they will become as men. 

With the keen and thoughtful direction of Liu, "Minding the Gap" uses the stories of these three boys to explore concepts of masculinity in America. Praised as one of the best documentaries of 2018, it was nominated for Best Documentary Feature at the Academy Awards — a staggering accomplishment for a directorial debut from Liu, who began assembling the footage for this project when he was in his early 20s.

When you think of children's television, it's hard not to imagine that the process of actually making the shows was as joyful and innocent as you felt watching them as a kid. But as we've learned all too well over the past few years, that was not always the case. "Quiet on Set: The Dark Side of Kids TV" shines a light onto the sometimes questionable, sometimes depraved practices behind some of the most popular shows on Nickelodeon during the '90s and early 2000s. 

Many of these revolved around the TV empire of Dan Schneider, whose crimes include (among others still worse that are only implied by the docuseries) poor judgment, an egotistic approach to showrunning that iced out those that crossed him, and an inappropriately sexual sense of humor that was disturbing to see included in kids' shows. Combining archival footage from the period, interviews with former Nickelodeon stars and crew members, and the occasional explosive revelation, "Quiet on Set" dumps a bucket of cold water on the sense of nostalgia many viewers instinctively felt for what is often regarded as a golden age for children's television.

Back in 1969, there was a massive concert that defined music for a generation. Only this one wasn't held in Woodstock, but in New York City, at the Harlem Cultural Festival. "Summer of Soul ( ... or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised)," directed by Questlove in his filmmaking debut, uses long-forgotten archival footage from the concert to bring to life its vibrancy, which was almost immediately overshadowed by the (much whiter) Woodstock, taking place on the same weekend. 

This footage, in conjunction with interviews and news reports from the time period, captures a very specific moment in cultural history, which featured legendary musical artists such as Stevie Wonder, Nina Simone, Sly and the Family Stone, and many others. Now considered one of the best music documentaries of all time (it took home the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature in 2022), "Summer of Soul" does more than just document one hell of a concert — it rescues from obscurity a piece of Black culture that was threatened with erasure.

Since practically the beginning of her career, Brooke Shields has been regarded as a sex symbol. So what's the problem with that? She started acting when she was just a little girl, and adults in her life who should have known better exploited her youthful beauty and innocence. Controversy has followed Hollywood's treatment of Shields since the 1970s: When she was cast in the erotic drama "Pretty Baby," a film in which she was featured nude despite being just 11 years old; When she appeared in the erotic island fantasy "The Blue Lagoon" at the age of 14; When that same year she was the star of a Calvin Klein campaign where she said the now-famous line, "You want to know what comes between me and my Calvins? Nothing."

The documentary "Pretty Baby" casts its eye back on Shields' early career with a modern sensibility, asking how a child could have been put in this position and sexualized so mercilessly by the media. For her part, Shields seems to have made peace with the more negative aspects of her teen stardom, but some of the film's most powerful moments are when she has conversations with her own teen daughters, whose shock and disgust at the treatment she received speak volumes.

When it comes to bizarre game shows, Japan has pretty much cornered the market. But "The Contestant" tells the story of a game show that's pretty out there, even by Japanese standards. Back in 1998, Tomoaki Hamatsu agreed to participate in a game show where he was locked naked in an empty apartment, where he was tasked with earning income exclusively through mail-in sweepstakes. He was to stay in that apartment until he won the equivalent of about $8,000. And unbeknownst to him, all of it would be filmed and broadcast to viewers, almost as though he were on a game show version of "The Truman Show."

"The Contestant" looks back at this strange interlude into voyeurism, reflecting on the amount of sadism it would take to dream up such a concept, let alone actually execute it. But perhaps we're focusing on the wrong part of this story. Yes, someone had to greenlight this, but 17 million viewers tuned in to watch it every week, proving that the urge to watch people at their most vulnerable is more powerful than we realize.