Bertha Lewis, second from the right, in ACORN and the Firestorm (Pandora Film Center/First Run Features)

The Association of Community Organizations for Reform Now, also known as ACORN, may not have been perfect. But the amount of good it did far outweighed any negatives, according to this fiery and informative documentary.

The film opens with footage of an older man who claims ACORN helped him when he was on the verge of losing his house. He talks about the group in the past tense, and the very next shot is of its main headquarters, now a dark and empty office. The film subsequently jumps around in time to tell us exactly what happened, starting with ACORN’s founding in Little Rock, Arkansas, in 1970. It moves forward from there, although every now and then the film segues to a young woman named Hannah Giles, whose exact role in bringing down the organization is unclear at first.

Directors Reuben Atlas and Samuel D. Pollard introduce us to a number of volunteers who never speak directly to the camera, but we hear them off camera, in which their passion for ACORN is very much evident. The constant use of voice-over gives the impression that the subjects themselves are dictating which direction the narrative moves in, which is fitting, given that for most of its existence, the organization was largely democratic, with members at the street level determining what issues each chapter focused on.

Of all the subjects, the one viewers come to identify as the heart and soul of ACORN is Bertha Lewis, who eventually becomes the first African American woman to head the group. She brings a no-nonsense attitude and instant credibility: Even before joining, she was already heavily involved in tenant advocacy in the Bronx. Once part of ACORN, she becomes a force, helping lead sit-ins and other forms of civil disobedience, at one point getting arrested in front of the U.S. Capitol building.

The film chronicles the organization’s victories as far as helping to influence legislation on behalf of lower-income and working-class people, such as advocating for a higher minimum wage. Interestingly, the filmmakers do not shy away from the ugliness of some of ACORN’S tactics, such as storming private offices or getting into yelling matches with political flacks, which rubbed some would-be admirers the wrong way. Due to the combination of coming on strong, and the fact that they were anti-corporate and visibly aligned with the Democratic Party, it’s hardly surprising they made enemies with private businesses, bankers, and Republican politicians. Among the latter, one of the most visible was U.S. Representative Steve King from Iowa, who helped lead the charge that ACORN committed voter registration fraud during the 2008 presidential election.

The accusations marked the first real attempt to bloody up the organization, though it would be the second, involving Giles posing as a prostitute seeking advice on how to set up a brothel for underage girls she planned to smuggle in stateside, which would prove fatal. From the beginning, the filmmakers insinuate something fishy about the hidden-camera footage Giles and her accomplice, James O’Keefe, took during the meetings. Over the course of the film, they parcel out more hints, culminating in an ending that doesn’t leave us feeling shocked so much as disheartened that the organization could fall victim to such an underhanded smear campaign.

The film is about events that happened roughly a decade ago, but as it unfolds, we can see how they covers would echo into the future, especially the packaging of Giles’s and O’Keefe’s story by the late Andrew Breitbart. While he had yet to establish the media empire bearing his name, the anti-government theme that would mark his later work is already present, as is the not-so-subtle racism.

Ultimately, the film works as a real-life tragedy, a twisty thriller, and even a critique about how the media covers minorities. But it is, above all, a fascinating comparison of two women, Lewis and Giles, who couldn’t be more different from each other, most notably in how they represent pragmatism versus cynicism. By the end, one remains as emboldened as ever. Despite being bittersweet, the film’s coda is exactly what all those who were a part of ACORN’s four-decades-long legacy richly deserve.