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After the COVID-19 pandemic, new films releasing immediately to streaming services marked a dramatic change in the industry. Paying to see movies on the big screen became less of a priority for film lovers, who could stay home and watch the latest must-see on their own television, from their own couch.

But there are some movies that beg to be seen in a theater — films like “Top Gun” and many of the big Hollywood blockbusters where super heroes abound that call out for mega-plex-screen square footage.

Rarely does a documentary come around that demands big screen attention, but local cinephiles will have the opportunity to see a movie whose natural viewing habitat is a real movie theater when “Space Cowboy” plays at the Isis Theatre today at 7 p.m. Filmmakers Bryce Leavitt and Marah Strauch will be in attendance for a Q&A after the film ends.

The screening is the Colorado premiere of “Space Cowboy,” which had its world premiere at the prestigious Toronto Film Festival in September.

“Space Cowboy” is the remarkable life story of Joe Jennings, a pioneer in the world of skydiving. The cinematography in the movie (much of it shot in the ’90s) is mind-bending. There are images of various scenarios playing out thousands of feet in the air that one would never think possible. The big screen magnifies the visual magnificence of “Space Cowboy.”

The film is a deep dive into a world that most people know little about. Jennings has been one of the central characters in this niche universe since the early ’90s.

Skydiving has many permutations which include skysurfing (essentially snowboarding through the air on a “sky board”) and “camera flying” (filming other skydivers). In “Space Cowboy,” Jennings is obsessed with trying to get an automobile to fly through the sky with people in the car and have it appear as if they are merely driving down the highway on a nice summer day, and capturing it on film.

This is no easy feat. Early failed attempts have the car doing somersaults out of control — even crashing right into a videographer at one point.

“Taking things that look like they belong on ground level, and putting them 10,000 feet up in the sky and bringing those wacky images down to people that don’t get to skydive became an absolute fascination of Joe’s,” Leavitt said. “The art of making those objects fly correctly and for him getting the shot, that became his form of self expression that he loved. It’s absurd in some ways.

“He’s been called the Salvador Dali of the sky.”

The film moves back and forth between Jennings’ quixotic mission to videograph an automobile and passengers in the sky and the last 30 years of his life as a videographer and competitive skydiver.

The emotional resonance of the film is Jennings’ back story. He had an almost crippling case of ADHD as a child, which filled him with a sense of alienation. When his parents divorced, he and his siblings were left to fend for themselves on a farm. When he returned to civilization several years later, the other kids in school heckled him constantly and called him “Joe Dirt,” which left him with an outsider’s sensibility he has carried with him ever since.

Jennings was also carrying with him the kernels of mental illness in the form of depression which he began to experience even as he was starting to have success in the world of skydiving which he encountered in 1980. By 1990 Joe was “camera flying,” jumping with other divers to film their jumps with a helmet videocam.

In the early ’90s, Jennings met Rob Harris, a “freestyler” doing extraordinary tricks in the air, and the two formed a partnership and brotherhood. The two competed in the first X Games and Harris was the skysurfing world champion in 1994 and 1995, flying alongside Jennings who filmed his routines.

 In 1995, Harris was killed while shooting a Mountain Dew commercial in Alaska, with Jennings flying close by.

Jennings sank into a deep depression after Harris’ death and was further challenged when another colleague and friend, French skysurfing pioneer Patrick de Gayardon, fell to his death in Hawaii three years later.

While adrenaline is the main chemical fueling most of “Space Cowboy,” it is the neurotransmitters that cause depression and how they are examined that make the film so powerful.

“Joe is a great example of somebody that on paper you would just never expect to be dealing with depression,” Leavitt said. “You think, ‘What a dream this guy is living!’ And then you see all these things going on and see how brave he is and how he was able to continually fight off his demons and chase his passions and inspire himself, inspire others, take care of his family, and be happy. I think one of the big takeaways from the film would be that if you are dealing with those things, like many of us are, there is a light that you can get to.”

Strauch echoed the sentiment that merely having the conversation about depression is a meaningful exercise.

“One thing about talking about depression openly and honestly is I think it can help other people and I think Joe tells stories about really hiding his depression from people and some of his best friends didn’t know he was depressed,” Strauch said. “I think one of the things that can be really helpful to learn from our film is just reaching out to other people and making your feelings more visible rather than hidden, to be more open with the people around us, and I think Joe’s done that.”

One of the main ways Joe has battled his depression is through his audacious pursuit of his passion, even if his passion seems frivolous in some ways — what exactly is the point of throwing extremely heavy objects out of airplanes?