One of the great benefits of the at-home entertainment market boom of the last five years has been how readily available documentaries have become: the past Oscar seasons alone, Best Documentary Feature has been one of the few categories where anyone can see most or all of the nominees without leaving home. In Eyeing the Truth, each month I am going to try to cover some of the more interesting, accessible documentaries on streaming sites such as Netflix, Hulu Plus, or Amazon Prime, or cable outlets like HBO and Showtime. Plus, I will try to highlight one “classic” documentary that is worth a rewatch. Thanks for joining me!

Steve Jobs: The Man in the Machine (OnDemand)

Since his death four years ago, Steve Jobs has been the center of a lot of narratives, including a highly anticipated Hollywood film coming out this month. From books to radio shows to movies to TV specials, you have to ask why we need another film about Steve Jobs. His story seems told enough, and for a filmmaker as prolific as Alex Gibney, perhaps there are better-served subjects out there. In Steve Jobs: The Man in the Machine, Gibney isn’t interested in the event-by-event life story of Steve Jobs, though, and he doesn’t take the same path so many others have taken in telling his story. Instead, Gibney tackles the Steve Jobs story with a new dramatic question: how do I balance my love for the products Steve Jobs created with my skepticism about the man himself? How do I separate the man from the machine?

The Man in the Machine doesn’t have any great revelations about Steve Jobs. There isn’t any new information uncovered, there aren’t any insightful new interviews and there isn’t any ground that hasn’t been well-trod before. Gibney highlights all of Jobs’ successes, from the Macintosh to the iPad, but he doesn’t back away from Jobs’ faults. He spends a lot of time dissecting the custody battles, corporate bullying and disdain for charity that have been well-covered in Jobs’ life. The success of the film, and the film has a lot of successes, lands in the juxtaposition Gibney gives the story: by putting the great successes of Jobs the Inventor next to the great faults of Jobs the Man, Gibney is able to shine a fresh light on the world’s most famous programmer.

Gibney’s voice returns at various times throughout his narrative to let us hear Gibney grappling with Jobs along with us. Gibney loves his Apple products (he compares his iPhone to Gollum’s ring, calling to him from his pocket and making him unresistant to its pull), but Gibney clearly doesn’t love the man who invented them. By the end, Gibney gets a little too ham-fisted and philosophical in his questioning of Jobs, but the questions are worth asking. >Steve Jobs: The Man in the Machine is bold, smart and essential viewing, not only for all of us Apple users out there, but for anyone who has used a product and never thought about the story that made it.

Born to Fly: Elizabeth Streb vs. Gravity (Hulu/Netflix)

Choreographer Elizabeth Streb is the type of subject that screams out for a documentary. Streb is the innovator behind her own dance style called Action. Her type of dance, which feels more like a stunt show than a ballet recital, has to be seen in action to be believed, and her warm openness about her struggles and dreams sucks a listener right into her world. Catherine Gund’s documentary Born to Fly, a film festival favorite from last year that is finally making its way to streaming platforms, captures the world of Streb in a fast-paced, inquisitive way. Gund balances all the necessary components — the talking heads, the snippets of dance, Streb’s past and her circle of friends — very evenly, keeping the film moving and never lingering too long. If anything, the film feels a little slight by the end, and you are left wanting more of Streb’s dancers in action.

Born to Fly climaxes with a series of public performances Streb put together in the days (or One Extraordinary Day, as she calls it) leading up to the London Olympics in 2012. Streb and her dancers walk down buildings, bungee jump off of the Millennium Bridge and finally climb up and down the London Eye. It is here that the film finally gets majestic, but where its limitations are also present. The larger the scale of Streb’s performances, the harder it becomes for the filmmakers (with camera help from legendary documentarian Albert Maysles) to truly capture what is happening. The scope of the film gets lost in the digital grain, although oddly enough, that digital grain also gives Streb’s performance pieces an added gritty edge that she goes for in her work. As a tribute and exploration of an original performer, Born to Fly does Elizabeth Streb a lot of justice.

Keith Richards: Under the Influence (Netflix)

The first moments of Morgan Neville’s Keith Richards: Under the Influence are jarring for anyone expecting a traditional rock documentary: Richards moving slowly through his bright green garden while classical music blares around him. It isn’t what we expect coming from the legendary Rolling Stones guitarist, but that is the point of Neville’s documentary. Keith Richards isn’t your ordinary rock-and-roller (and that should be the correct term, since he goes on a tirade in the film against “rock music,” preferring the “roll” part of rock-and-roll). Neville’s brisk and entertaining biography is all about the depth and variety of Richards’ influences, whether the early blues and Spanish guitar that he learned or the modern artists he collaborates with. For the most part, Neville discards the typical biopic trappings, eschewing Richards’ personal life for time spent watching Richards pluck away at his guitar and ruminate on the great artists to come before him. With rock-and-roll artists, it is easy to get caught up in the lifestyle, backstage drama, and flamboyance, and forget about the dedication and musical theory that makes them great musicians before they become icons. Neville is out to correct that. With beautiful camerawork, as cinematographer Igor Martinovic frames Richards with halos and lens flares that match the lyricism of his guitar, Keith Richards: Under the Influence is a reminder not only of the greatness of the artist at its center, but the work and history that goes into every great artist that is easy to forget.

CLASSIC: Gimme Shelter (HuluPlus)

In 1969, The Maysles Brothers and Charlotte Zwerin set out to follow the Rolling Stones through their U.S. tour. Like this month’s Keith Richard: Under the Influence, it tries to paint the Rolling Stones as the blue collar rock and roll stars, putting their sweat into every minutia of their music and letting us understand how hard being a rock star can be. They were trying to create an alternative to the all-performance love-fest of Woodstock, which would come out almost simultaneously with Gimme Shelter. Little did any of them know how “alternate” this would be when they got to the Rolling Stones’ Altamont Free Concert in December, a celebration of music and love that ended in violence and tragedy. By the time Gimme Shelter gets its audience to Altamont, and by the time it shows us some discomforting footage of the Hell’s Angels beating an audience member to death, the hit is pretty hard.

Altamont hangs over the early portions of the film grimly. We know where the Stones are headed, and every time Altamont is brought up in the proceedings, you want to stop them and warn them of what is going to happen. Gimme Shelter manages that dread perfectly, though, by giving us moments of exuberance over and over again, from the electric opening of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” at Madison Square Garden to the sight of the Stones flying into Altamont and taking in the size and excitement of the 300,000 below them. The filmmakers intercut these with The Stones at work, putting together their tour and listening to their own tracks with detective-like concentration. Even when we get to Altamont, with its confused rock stars and Godardian-sized traffic jams, the film still pauses long enough for a raw, energized and captivating performance by Tina Turner. The music is always Gimme Shelter’s priority, and there is always room for artistry at work. When tragedy does finally take over, and we get the uncomfortable moment of Mick Jagger watching video footage of the beating and trying to make sense of what happened, the truth of Gimme Shelter comes out: rock-and-roll is exciting, but it certainly isn’t safe.