A mildly interesting documentary about the kidnapping and murder of the American journalist by the Islamic State in 2014. There’s some interesting segments that seem to more creatively portray captivity, but there’s no new ground here. Everybody knows this kid’s story and the anguish the family went through is unimaginable. But, the film seems to be lacking in one key area. Despite constant testimony about how great a guy Jim Foley was, I never really bought it. I hate to disparage the dead here, but there’s an ugly, little secret about disaster response and war zones that some of us have been unfortunate enough to stumble upon over the years in our work: They can attract a certain dilettante privileged “tourist.” Now, look… I’ll be the first to admit that someone should probably pick that stone up and cast it right back at me. That may be right. But, one: I haven’t gotten killed doing what I do… yet; and two: nobody’s making a documentary about me. I’m not saying that Jim Foley was “that guy,” but I never got the past the feeling that he was. I never really bought into him doing this job for the greater good and to share the plight of Syrian’s with the world. He just seemed like he was doing what he did to have a great story down the road when he settled down. You certainly never believe that he’s concerned about the anguish that he caused by putting himself in dangerous situations. What happened to Jim Foley was a tragedy, but looking this closely at that tragedy doesn’t enhance the story, it tarnishes it.