Alex Harrison

Viewers willing to give it the same, almost spellbound focus the protagonist gives this case will find it a compelling meditation on things as wide-ranging as racial otherness, fraught mother-daughter relationships, and the real-world slipperiness of concepts like truth and justice.

Tótem's camera is always studying the actors, exploratory and intrusive in the manner of a child's perceptive gaze.

The Brutalist is a colossal achievement, balancing intimacy and scale at every level of craft. At 3 hours, 35 minutes, it asks a lot from its viewers. Every second is well spent.

The movie is so interested in archeology (the credits dedicate it "to all archeologists, custodians of every end") that it becomes an analogue for the viewing experience. Rohrwacher asks us to interpret La Chimera the way archaeologists interpret fragments of the past.

Despite having a decent budget and some recognizable actors to work with, writer-director Tommy Wirkola, known for Nazi zombie film Dead Snow and his Santa action film Violent Night, ensured what ended up on screen was a pretty fun B picture. It doesn't have the stylistic touch that can sometimes bring a little something extra to playful genre films, nor does it have a true standout sequence that could give it a chance at a longer cultural life. But it does have just the tone you'd hope it would, especially as it nears its climax, and that's all it really needs to deliver the goods.

The characters are animated with such clarity of expression, and the film is edited so expertly, that lines just aren't necessary.

Flow makes us think and feel in equal measure.

Perhaps, Kaurismäki's movie suggests, disaffection is a valid response to this reality we live in. So, when these two people meet and sparks fly, it becomes all the more meaningful.

It is a richly layered work of art.

If One Fine Morning offers no great revelations, it is full of echoes, parallels, and sparks that leave the viewer activated beyond its runtime, perhaps engaging with the world a little more thoughtfully than they were before watching.

Thankfully for us, though, a film is not a meal. We can watch The Taste of Things as many times as we'd like.

It's artful, atmospheric, and observant; a slice-of-life film told in a hushed tone. It's dedicated to recreating a specific time and place and dropping us into it. There's a gentle steadiness to the way it moves.

A lot happens, story-wise, but if the film had just followed Sylvia and Saul learning how to be around each other, it would've been enough.

The problem is one of focus, and had the movie trusted its protagonist enough to let her be the true center, it might have provided a viewing experience worth recommending.

Savor Hit Man, however you come across it - it's not every day the movies entertain us in this way at this level of execution anymore.

Cleaner is a pretty good reminder of how fun it can be to watch someone with movie star charisma do a Die Hard.

Keeping us close to the film's talented cast is a decided strength of this, and the performances add nuance to a largely straightforward viewing experience. But it's hard not to wish Fingernails had grander designs. It shows just enough of its full potential to leave us wanting to see those ideas expressed more fully.

One of Dreams' strengths is that its dramatic devices pair well with its interests.

The cast deserves real credit for that, Biscayart especially. His physical expressiveness is truly extraordinary, and without his performance to transition us to the final act, Kill the Jockey doesn't succeed.

This film may want to scare us, but it also strives to make us as observant and inquisitive as its heroine. We become active viewers, learning and making connections that fill the gaps left open in the worldbuilidng.

Ignore the publicity bluster, and you'll find at the core of Song Sung Blue the same modest dream to entertain that drives the Sardinas. Is it one of the best films of the year? Certainly not. But a good time at the movies? You betcha.

Truly, all of Babygirl is fascinating to watch. There's such clear perspective in the filmmaking, and even though I've dwelt on Reijn's more thoughtful touches, the defining trait for many might be a wicked sense of humor. Laughter came easy and often for me and the audience I saw it with – sometimes with the characters, sometimes at them, but always with the movie. It's as if we're being reminded that, however serious the themes, this is supposed to be fun. And it is. But be prepared to find yourself grappling with a whole lot more.

Jenkin doesn't leave the audience without any puzzle pieces; there are enough for multiple stories to be constructed, should the viewer wish to understand Enys Men on that level. At a certain point, however, it becomes so difficult to disentangle the real from the unreal that to try feels pointless, and the last act suffers for it.

Damsel is a lifeless experience. The filmmakers have assembled all the constituent parts of an interesting fantasy adventure film — genre-bending premise, a starry cast, locations with character, and some creative creature design — but the connective tissue is paper-thin.

This is not a biopic of an artist so much as a human artwork, capturing the many questions he provokes and the contradictory answers that define him.

Kurzel's film can be watched at face value, and anyone inclined to like this type of movie will enjoy it. But as it chugs along, it also shows us what hate can look like and what it can do. Like Husk's story, it is a warning, and it leaves us with the chilling sense that the events depicted haven't, or maybe can't, come to an end.

Beautiful, moving, and sporting a compelling metaphor for parenthood, Twomey's film is heartfelt in the way that Pixar and Ghibli films are, making it a worthy pick for a family movie night.

I do not regret having seen it, and with all there is to recommend it, I feel comfortable suggesting you seek it out upon release. But do so with tempered expectations.