Mr. Gaga: A True Story of Love and Death is a biographical documentary about Ohad Naharin, an Israeli choreographer. I assume that the documentary ended up in my queue because I enjoy dance-watching and doing it though less on the latter as I got older and realized that catching and replicating others’ choreography was not in my skill set in addition to not naturally being flexible. It is a hard documentary to find. I originally saw it streaming on Netflix, but now Netflix does not even carry the DVD. If you are interested in seeing it, check to see if your local library carries it otherwise it may be easier to just buy it.

I was unfamiliar with Naharin before this documentary, and he is the narrator of Mr. Gaga: A True Story of Love and Death. The film tells a mostly chronological story of his life and depicts it using personal home video, filmed rehearsals, archival news and dance footage and interviews with people who know him: former teachers, collaborators, dancers, students. Even if you do not know him, you will still find value in the film because his dance journey is like a slice of modern dance history as he crosses paths with Rudolf Nureyev, Martha Graham and Alvin Ailey. This documentary is an invaluable if you want to get an idea of how a dancer discovers his individual style instead of completely absorbing someone else’s aesthetic, which is probably why someone praised him thus, “When someone lets you express your uniqueness, you feel special all the time.”

During my first viewing of Mr. Gaga: A True Story of Love and Death, he did not make a good impression. He is a self-professed unreliable narrator, uses his admittedly considerable sex appeal to advance his career and seemed selfish. Though I have no idea what it signaled, it seemed significant that his wife never directly participated in the documentary even though she was present and available. He is the kind of guy who plays a guitar in a bathtub then is shocked that it got wet. More careless than I would care for.

There is a lack of vanity in the way that he approaches his work. During my second viewing of Mr. Gaga: A True Story of Love and Death, I related to Naharin more: his hatred of the reality of his dreams coming true, learning how to listen to and relearn his body after surgery, his disgust at the political reality of his home and how it intrudes on work that he cares about, his democratic approach to distributing art to the masses and his eagerness to allow individual dancers’ traits to inform his choreography instead of being frustrated that they are not uniform.

I also left Mr. Gaga: A True Story of Love and Death uncertain if I understood what Gaga was or if I would recognize a dance as his work after watching his work for around one hundred minutes. Even though he claimed that it stemmed from pleasure derived from physical movement, the infliction of and surrender to pain in exchange for the genuine, organic and honest movement such as falling or hitting oneself seemed more characteristic of his work so the dance remains on the fine line threshold of exaggeration and quotidian. Even though his dancers laughed and pretended not to be bothered by his instruction, I felt as if I could recognize the act of reassuring power, but I also could be projecting because they keep coming back. The documentary succeeds at showing rather than telling the bond between the dancers and their choreographer. If I was more cynical, I would suggest that he is a cross between Tony Robbins and Zumba, but I am not made of stone and seeing him and his dancers engage in a kind of physical therapy with people who are physically unable to move and transmit joy and tenderness to strangers is special even if it is awkward to watch, like an intrusion. His magic words are “piece of cake.” As a person who got exempted from military service because of an ankle injury and recovered from a debilitating surgery yet is able to have a profession that requires a ton of physical exertion, there has to be something to this Gaga stuff.

While Naharin may be no Pina Bausch, whose choreography I can recognize in any context, the second viewing of Mr. Gaga: A True Story of Love and Death helped to solidify some elements. I do not think that it is especially unique to Naharin, but his movement is characterized by embracing serpentine, feminine moments in the spine and legs. There is also a performance theater vibe to his work, especially the role of music, audience interaction, props and having the dancers speak. Some of the most memorable props are folding chairs, a treadmill and a flag. I would encourage viewers to really focus on how Naharin moves in space now when he is not dancing-simply walking. It told me more than all the clips. He is naturally dramatic and elegant like an attractive, seductive woman, which is a compliment. In the extras on the DVD, he explicitly credits Gina Buntz, whom I am unfamiliar with, for helping him develop his style.

I wish that Mr. Gaga: A True Story of Love and Death explored Naharin’s musical choices more because it felt as if he made some deliberate, thoughtful choices, especially considering that he sings to some of his work. In one clip, he sings “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen,” and in a Gaga session, they dance to what sounds like Silent Night. These are unusual songs to casually use in any context other than gospel appropriate moments and Christmas, but especially for an Israeli though I do not think that he is religious based on his explicit political views.

If Mr. Gaga: A True Story of Love and Death was taking requests, considering that the dancers’ costumes unintentionally caused controversy, I would have loved to hear more about why he and/or the costume designer made certain choices. In one dance, he wears a long, crushed red velvet dress with slits up the sides, and because he is tall and still slim, he looks fabulous. No Spanx needed for him. The gender play is not just limited to his dance, but his being and all choices. I have no idea what his sexual orientation is, but he is very comfortable with his sexuality on and off stage. His choreography often features what superficially appears to depict same sex attraction. Indeed he seems to flirt equally with men and women, but it could also be a residual physical comfort developed from living in a kibbutz, a collective where children mingled freely and intimately regardless of gender.

I highly recommend Mr. Gaga: A True Story of Love and Death. If you know who Naharin is and enjoy his work, definitely buy it, but if you enjoy modern dance, it may be a great way to satisfy your global pandemic exile from live performances.