A loving, generous, somewhat sedate portrait of the artist as a successful old man. So much of Alison Chernik’s Itzhak Perlman documentary is contained in the opening scene, wherein the great violinist dons a personalized Mets jersey (the common touch), backs his scooter out of a specialized van (the physical suffering), graciously accepts adulation from a ballplayer (love of baseball, cross-cultural fame), plays the National Anthem prior to the first pitch (musical genius, regard for his adopted homeland), and smiles out at the crowd, his cheeks wet with tears (the warm humanity). Perlman seems that rare sort: a virtuoso at peace with God, neighbor, and himself, a man who suffered much in youth — from crippling polio, from devoted but driving parents, and from the horrors that befell his people — and then triumphed over that suffering to make a happy, ordinary life. The only drama here comes from the slightly elegiac tone — Perlman rejoices in the opportunity to teach his art to the young, but it’s hard to imagine that we’ll see his like again. He got his big break on the Ed Sullivan show; can you imagine seeing a 13-year-old boy play Mendelssohn on America’s Got Talent? (2018) — Matthew Lickona
This movie is not currently in theaters.