The Perfect Neighbor

I watched a Canadian film, Rituals, starring Hal Holbrook, at Ottawa's Mayfair Theatre many, many years ago. The film at times was so grainy, it was almost unwatchable - the equivalent of black and white TV snow. Despite this, I loved the film. It's Canada's Deliverance. Cinephile's often get into the weeds about 35 mm prints and what kind of camera or lens David Fincher use when he shot. . . whatever. Frank Capra's Lost Horizon has footage missing and it's still a great film. What does this all have to do with The Perfect Neighbor, Netflix's latest crime documentary? Well most of it police body-cam footage. It doesn't look great and it doesn't matter, because it's riveting. My wife and I have been watching true crime documentaries for 25 years and when I tell you this is a good one, please pay attention. This is the true story of a "Karen," a grumpy white woman who didn't like kids playing in the yard beside her house. She would call the cops. A lot. For me, this film is a grisly portrait of America. In a year of scathing portraits of America, (Eddington, On Battle After Another) you can add this one to the examination of the dumpster fire south of our border. I won't spoil it for you, but The Perfect Neighbor is a kettle on the stove. Slowly it begins to boil. It's tragic. There have been a lot of good documentaries this year. Don't scream at this one to get off your lawn - invite it in. Streaming on Netflix.