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!

What Happened, Miss Simone? (Netflix)

Liz Garbus’ What Happened, Miss Simone?, a paint-by-numbers musical biography of the legendary singer Nina Simone, opened the Sundance film festival in January. That seems a fitting placement for the film. At its best, What Happened, Miss Simone? is an electric celebration of the music of Simone, featuring a variety of musical performances that perfectly capture her unique talents. When the film lets Simone work her musical magic, it is the kind of film you want to watch with an oversized, packed auditorium of appreciators.

Unfortunately, the non-musical side of the film doesn’t hold up nearly as well. From the title alone, Garbus poses us with a question (quoted from Maya Angelou) that she never successfully answers. She gives us the literal answers, taking Simone from budding classical pianist to jazz singer to civil rights leader to angry expatriate to tired artist, but none of the transitions are ever clarified beyond merely occurring. This is a complex woman given a simplified biography. Garbus is never able to get under the skin of Simone, and while the story of her life may be interesting, the film makes it seem flimsy next to the depths Simone exposes during her performances. The musical moments carry the film, and while they make the film worth checking out, you might be better off watching a couple of hours of Nina Simone performances on YouTube and letting the artist speak for herself.

The Search for General Tso (Netflix)

The Search for General Tso starts off exactly where you would expect it to: at a Chinese restaurant, watching the eponymous chicken dish being made and explaining that in China, there is no such thing as General Tso’s Chicken. Somewhere along the way, it was an American invention, or so it seems. To understand how it came to be, though, you need to travel through Chinese-American history. In Ian Cheney’s highly entertaining documentary, we see how and why people began to come over here from China, how Chinese restaurants spread through America and how Chinese food had to adapt to the American palate. Suddenly, a trivial comic search becomes deeper, more expansive and a lot more relevant.

That isn’t to say that it loses its comic charm, though. The Search for General Tso consistently remains as entertaining as it does informative. Cheney assembles a gold mine of characters, from Chinese menu collectors to reclusive chefs to everyday Chinese people grappling with this strange Americanized dish, and he is smart enough to let them talk without getting in their way. He matches their personalities with a visual sense that is equally gripping, both through an almost stereotypical Chinese animation type and some luscious gastro-cinematography. Every shot of food through this film is as mouthwatering as it should be, reminding us at all times that this journey is worth it not only because of what we can learn about history, but because the dish at the center of it all tastes so good.

CLASSIC: When the Levees Broke (HBOGo/HBONow)

With the ten-year anniversary of Katrina just being honored last week, and the announcement that Spike Lee will receive one of this year’s Honorary Academy Awards, this seems like as good a time as ever to revisit Lee’s acclaimed 2006 documentary When the Levees Broke. Within three months of the catastrophe in Louisiana and other gulf states, Lee and his crew were in New Orleans capturing images, interviews and stories to weave together; a year after the hurricane, they had a four-hour opus that captures everything from the on-the-ground stories to the larger historical and political scope of the devastation.

What is most remarkable about When the Levees Broke, especially looking back on it with almost a decade’s distance, is how remarkably tight Lee’s story is only a year out. In hindsight, there is little of the story that Lee misses or gets wrong. The film feels incredibly complete. It also gets great advantage out of the timeliness of the filming: each interview has the complete story of Katrina, but it also has the rawness of still trying to comprehend Katrina. It hurts people to tell their stories, and Lee’s subjects are never afraid to let that out in their interviews. Like the best Spike Lee narratives, the intimacy and personality of the film brings out the most power. No one in the film is immune to emotion, and watching normal people grapple with what has happened to them helps create the sense of loss, abandonment and neglect that Lee could never have brought out in a better way. When the Levees Broke is epic in scale and intimate in precision, and now may be as good a time as any to discover or rediscover it.