The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson

Works powerfully as a rallying cry for tolerance, love and understanding.

Along the way, a sobering history of the gay rights movement is rendered through the lens of long-suffering transgender activists.

If Marsha P. fades from the film (there is not enough great footage of her, I guess, although enough to suggest she could be irresistible), the sense of vulnerability she projects permeates the rest of the movie.

Though this film doesn't give definitive answers on what happened to Ms. Johnson, it keeps her memory alive. That itself is a victory over indifference.

Even if The Death And Life Of Marsha P. Johnson doesn't wholly deliver on its premise, France does a remarkable job of finding the continuity between New York in the '70s, '90s, and now.

At times the narrative feels scattered, but this is heartbreaking, powerful and pressing, and an urgent must-see.

At his best, David France mimics Werner Herzog, with one sequence in particular, a private viewing of Johnson's autopsy photos, echoing "Grizzly Man."

It's a bittersweet film: for every strong figure willing to put their life on the line for a bigger cause, there's another who's been beaten or murdered as a direct result for displaying such braveness.

... a disjointed but essential documentary about two transgender drag queens who were instrumental in the Stonewall Riots of 1969.

It passionately covers a number of important issues without quite unifying them into a coherent whole.

It masterfully weaves together past and present, not only telling the story we've come to see, but the larger one besides.

[It's] is a celebration of a leader whose importance is finally being recognized through a wider lens. But it's also a rallying cry, a call for all of us to acknowledge, appreciate, and amplify the message of LGBT equality and liberation.