Directed by Oscar Ruiz Navia, Los Hongos follows teenage friends Calvin (Calvin Buenaventura Tascon) and Ras (Jovan Alexis Maquinez Angulo) who, inspired by the resistance shown within the Arab Spring, immerse themselves in the street art scene of the Colombian city of Cali. Ras has to steal paint from his job in order to create street art, whilst Calvin is bank-rolled by his father (Gustovo Ruiz Montoya), attending art classes to improve his technique.

There is not a great deal of plot in Los Hongos. The film meanders along at a snails pace, with Navia not keen to lead the audience by the hand, or even give the plot any real direction. The main arc initially appears to be about street art, and Calvin and Ras’ emergence within a counter cultural group expressing their disillusionment with the current political class. However, beyond the initial Arab Spring comparisons, we gain little insight into the reasons why Calvin and Ras feel oppressed by their government. Only two scenes hint at Colombia’s systemic problems: one involving Calvin’s father describing issues with the country’s drug gangs, and another alluding to the potentially problematic ties between church and state. Navia’s commentary is brief and lacks any real impact, taking the life out of a film that’s clearly frustrated with its own country’s political situation.

The film’s political commentary might fail to land any heavy blows, but Navia’s emphasis on the two characters’ struggle with growing up strikes a chord. Ras struggles to break away from the expectations of his family to find work and settle down, whilst Calvin is given carte blanche by his father who, despite his financial support, appears more interested in himself than his own son. Yet, despite their different backgrounds, Calvin and Ras are drawn together in their search to establish a sense of identity, as symbolized pertinently by their desire to create distinctive art. Their shared struggle is easily the most powerful message of the film. The slow pace of Los Hongos‘ makes it a difficult film to enjoy at times. However it does give both actors ample room to explore their characters, providing brilliant performances that give off a sense of authenticity in its portrayal of life in Cali.

Navia also surrounds Los Hongos with distinctive characters, giving his film a much-needed boost of energy. Calvin’s father is uniquely quirky, a charismatic opera singer who practices in his bathroom mirror to his neighbours’ morning alarm, while Calvin and Ras’ graffiti artist friends—including one who only talks through a gas mask—are also colourful characters. The best supporting character is Calvin’s grandmother Norma, (Atala Estrada) whose frank honesty with Calvin on the pitfalls of alcohol and girls provides some of the film’s funniest moments.

Los Hongos is not without flaws. Its political commentary is underdeveloped, and a lack of narrative structure gives off a frustrating level of ambiguity and aimlessness at times. Yet Navia’s observations on life are poignant, and Los Hongos shows promise from a talented director.

Loudmouth YouTube news commentator Cenk Uygur has been bum rushing his way through the media for years. With his uninhibited, fiery commentary style as his calling card, he worked his way up from being the host of a crummy public access show, to creating the successful YouTube news show “The Young Turks” (TYT), to being offered a job as the host of his own show on MSNBC. It was Uygur’s ambition and unfiltered rabble-rousing that got him to the top of the media mountain, but his staunch refusal to compromise his vision that compelled him to turn down MSNBC, who requested he go easier on the Obama administration on air. Only on YouTube, a platform that embraces creative liberty and unencumbered content creation, can Uygur speak his mind in earnest with TYT.

A documentary less about Uygur’s raucous political ideals than it is about the makeup of a man whose disruptive nature has kept him out of the limelight, Mad As Hell is a solidly-crafted portrait of a fascinating media outsider. Its biggest problem, though, is that its focus is always either too broad or too narrow to fully absorb us into Uygur’s up-and-down journey through his one-of-a-kind career. The film’s not intimate enough: Uygur always feels at arms-length, and his deepest vulnerabilities never feel fully explored. And the film is too transfixed with its subject’s personality to delve deep enough into the intrigue of the ever-evolving, Wild West media landscape.

Uygur’s passion perpetually rides the line between inspiring and aggravating, and his brashness drives the movie, much like it drove TYT to success. (It’s the most-watched news channel on YouTube with over a billion views, though to be honest I can’t name even one other news channel on YouTube, so take that for what you will.) Director Andrew Napier chose the film’s title as an homage to the Peter Finch’s fed-up newsman in Network, whose on-screen blow-up in that movie is in the same spirit as Uygur’s volcanic on-air diatribes. He’s a man’s man with a strong chin and charisma for days, and he’s undeniably magnetic, but the truth is, in a documentary like this, one can’t help but yearn to see a bit more of his life outside his ongoing crusade. A sweet moment between Uygur and his young son playing outside their home is a refreshing respite from the media mayhem, and more footage of that flavor may have given the film more depth and roundness.

The film plays out like a romance drama, with the lovers being Uygur and YouTube. Before he found the online video juggernaut, he was struggling to find a platform where he could make a real connection with the larger population. TYT found its footing on YouTube and his media presence began to grow, but when he took a temporary gig with the wealthier, shinier platform of MSNBC, he was no longer able to give TYT his all like he had for years. There’s more than a whiff of an infidelity theme in the way Napier presents Uygur’s graduation to the big leagues. When the relationship with MSNBC was severed, and a short-lived stint on Al Gore’s “Current TV” came to an end when the former president sold the network to Al Jezeera, it became clear that his true home would always be online, with TYT. “As we’ve found success, online media has found success,” says Uygur. “It’s a symbiotic relationship.”

The extensive behind the scenes footage at TYT was collected partly during Napier’s time working with the company, a fact that may bother some, but shouldn’t (Napier is no longer with TYT and the group had no say in the final edit). Almost all interviews come from within Uygur’s circle, including childhood friends and colleagues, but none of the interviewees seem to be pulling any punches, sometimes expressing their lack of confidence in Uygur’s strategies and philosophies. But on the whole there’s a pervading sense that the film leans more toward the hagiographic side of the spectrum. Mad As Hell is a slick-looking doc, but its storytelling is decidedly conventional: the talking head interviews serve their purpose, and the backstage footage is interesting, but none of it feels as spontaneous, alive and dangerous as Uygur.