Cole was a black South African photographer whose work illuminated the reality of life under apartheid, but Raoul Peck’s excellent documentary unearths a life of exile and homesickness

Haitian film-maker Raoul Peck won an Oscar nomination for his 2016 documentary I Am Not Your Negro about James Baldwin, whose writings were voiced by Samuel L Jackson; now he takes a comparable approach to a more elusive and in some ways more complex subject. This is the black South African photographer Ernest Cole whose fierce pictures of life under apartheid brought this political reality home to the US and the west, and played a real part in the pressure brought to bear on the South African government. But it was Cole’s terrible destiny to live as a stateless exile, mostly in the US, finally dying penniless in 1990 just as Nelson Mandela was being released.

Cole died of pancreatic cancer, but it’s not too fanciful to say that he also died of depression and simple homesickness, anguished by his alienation from a homeland for which he felt a wrenchingly passionate yearning. In the US, where his photo collection House of Bondage was published, he found that his public and grant-giving bodies wanted more of the same from him: more images of racism. But Cole wanted to escape the prison house of racial identity, and so resisted obvious agitprop work; yet he also irritated his sponsors by claiming that racism was just as bad in the US. Meanwhile, anti-apartheid activists left behind in South Africa felt that he had left the struggle’s frontline for a pampered American life of artistic celebrity.

The Fife coastal path connects the firths of Forth and Tay and takes in some of the country’s finest seaside villages, seascapes and the home of a famous literary castaway

Standing in a Scottish seaside village, I am confronted by two smart red doors and a curious figure standing in a niche above them: a man, one hand clutching a staff, the other shading his eyes as he gazes out to sea. There’s a flintlock pistol in his belt and he’s dressed in tattered rags. Is it a tribute to locals who survived a night out in Kirkcaldy? No, there is a weathered plaque that I can just read: “In memory of Alexander Selkirk, mariner, the original of Robinson Crusoe …”

This is the site of a cottage where Selkirk was born in 1676. And suddenly a long-forgotten melody starts to play in my head, a sweeping lyrical tune that I haven’t heard in half a century. It’s shocking to discover what treasure lies forgotten between my ears, this being the theme from The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, a German television series that was aired in the UK at the time of the Apollo 11 moon landings (and repeatedly until 1982). From the moment I saw it, I gave up plans to be an astronaut and decided to travel the world instead.

Part of a project exploring islanders’ daily challenges, this photograph captures the quiet endurance of Cuban mothers

This image is part of my project, Surviving the Impossible, which began in 2022 with the aim of capturing everyday life in Cuban, beyond cliches and misconceptions. Over the course of my visits, I have approached this work in two ways. First, I spend time with Cuban families, immersing myself in their routines and daily challenges. Second, I wander the streets to photograph and talk with people in a more spontaneous manner.

Both methods allow me to explore Cuba’s complex landscape, shedding light on the struggles and on resilience.

Sandra Hernández (Vita Flumen) is a photographer in Mexico whose work focuses on everyday life and overlooked stories. She created the first anthology of street photography in Mexico, and founded Urban Observers, a platform for Latin American street and documentary photography

Amid the clatter, Daniel Meadows spent the late 1970s shooting the boiler rooms, weaving sheds and ‘mee-mawing’ workers of an industry that has since vanished

Only time will tell whether this revival of Netflix’s much-loved series will become as great as DC’s lauded comic adaptation. But the excellent acting and bravura set pieces make it a crowd-pleasing watch

For those of you who like to keep count, Daredevil: Born Again is the 13th small-screen series under the aegis of the Marvel Television team (Agatha All Along last year was the 11th, and the 12th, the animated series Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, launched a few weeks ago). For those of you who like to go more by what it feels like, it is number 872.

So what do we have here? Well, it’s a revival/reboot/continuation of the Daredevil series that ran on Netflix for three seasons from 2015-2018. There were rumours that it began life as a comedy but was reshot to bring it more in line with fans’ expectations for a series about one of the MCU’s grittier characters. Let the online historians debate it all in a multiverse of furious threads while the rest of us get on with watching the actual show.

In a long and menacing - but also boring – speech to Congress, Trump mocked his opponents. Across the aisle the resistance was stirring

Well, at least he didn’t give a Nazi salute, declare war on Canada or pull the plug on Nato. You never know these days. But this was the night that Donald Trump finally turned the once reverential occasion of a speech to Congress into just another sordid campaign rally.

Deigning to address the branch of government he has so comprehensively sidelined in his first six weeks in office, Trump went off script and went long (a record 100 minutes). He lied, he weaved, demonised immigrants, he sold his economy as the greatest ever, he played the victim, he praised Elon Musk, he lambasted Joe Biden, he repeated himself and he lied some more.