Alex Saveliev

Disco is about how toxicity seeps into everything from masculinity to religion to parenting and, yes, even dancing. It’s as beautiful and heartbreaking as watching a dancer pirouette into an abyss.

Those seeking more adventurous, cerebral, inspired stuff will get a helluva kick.

The stark contrast between the way-too-confident-for-his-age Jake and the introverted, insecure Ben underscores how identity at that age calcifies in opposition: one boy armoring himself with swagger, the other shrinking under its weight.

Don’t come in expecting high-stakes melodrama, soul-twisting resolutions, or fiery exchanges. This is one of those meditative films about a fragment of life, wherein we find distinct familiarities. It demands that we slow down and appreciate its leisurely pace, its elegiac/humorous tone – and primarily, its lead performance.

Though Farewell Amor is not a “dance movie", it’s primarily about that moment when we dance - when everything else falls away, Amor takes over, and we bid our troubles farewell.

Sirocco’s world resembles a phantasmagoric dream by Antoni Gaudí.

Foul-mouthed, unapologetic, visceral, and authentic, Firecrackers also happens to be sharply edited, its narrative complemented by Casey MQ’s gorgeous electronic ambient/drone score.

With splendid assistance from cinematographer Mohammad Reza Jahanpanah, the filmmaker immerses his viewer into a milieu both relentlessly grim and breathtakingly gorgeous, endlessly vast and claustrophobic, evoking a vibrant halo in the midst of hell.

Brad Bischoff’s subdued drama Grasshoppers leaves a lasting impression, certain images glowing like embers somewhere in the depths of the viewer’s mind long after the credits roll.

At barely over an hour, Deerskin packs quite a punch, and is bound to get under your skin.

It’s refreshing to see intelligent teens (Molly and Amy nonchalantly switch to conversing in Chinese at one point) in a film that doesn’t resort to easy, scatological humor for laughs. In a world mired by conflict and dark entertainment that mirrors it, Booksmart takes a somewhat radical approach by endorsing a bit of light-hearted anarchy.

What remains undeniable is Englert’s directorial chops. Bad Behaviour is exactly the story she wanted to tell. She couldn’t care less if you hate it or love it, refusing to pander to anyone’s expectations. Good for her. That sort of bad behavior is what makes her stand out as a filmmaker.

As it progresses – and Smith cunningly makes it feel like the film attains a life of its own, guided not by directorial hands but by fate itself – Sr. becomes a touching ode to a formidable individual whose countercultural comedies influenced generations of filmmakers.

The director speaks to the beauty and longevity of cinema and the power and resilience of our past. But it's that interplay between sound and sight that proves the most penetrating. No talking head, or eloquent analysis, could be as powerful as that uncanny synthesis.

Luckily, the story of Waterman is so riveting and the hero so charming that it’s hard not to grow nostalgic along with the filmmaker.

Syms’ debut is anything but desperate; au contraire, this is the mark of a relaxed, confident filmmaker with a long, bright future.

Buoyed by the palpable mutual respect between filmmaker and subject, this study of Powell’s life manages the feat of being as candid as Powell’s photography of gritty city streets and major pop culture icons like the Beastie Boys.

The filmmaker performs an astounding feat of maintaining the perfect balance between self-awareness, alienation, warmth, comedy, and pathos. Apples is a singular experience.

Dispenses with all the flourishes and focuses purely on the story and the characters, the gentle humor and the heartrending moments. It all leads up to a wonderful final scene, a knockout punch that cements MacLachlan as one of cinema’s indie greats.

As it stands, Lorelei is perfectly imperfect. It demonstrates a filmmaker willing to go for broke, examine the dark recesses of our minds that others are too timid to touch.

It’s all deeply unsettling, a glorious massacre you can’t look away from. Kill It and Leave This Town dares you to avert its gaze. You may not be able to describe it, but good luck forgetting it.

Fabian: Going to the Dogs is poetic, ugly, romantic, tragic, and side-splitting. Some sequences approach the edge of sanity, take a glimpse into the abyss, then the plot reassembles itself – but the threat of derailing remains, and it’s quite exhilarating.

The Truffle Hunters is about sustaining tradition in a world that seems to (d)evolve too fast. It's about mortality, but it's never morbid. It's about fungi, but it's never dull. It takes you away from the hustle and bustle of the contemporary, social-media-driven society and plunges you into the woodsy stillness of Northern Italy. You don't have to love truffles to crave a little bit of that beautiful solitude.

An insightful character study, and an absolute must-watch for Saint-Laurent fans – or anyone with a remote interest in the fashion industry.

Disco Boy is not your average war drama, or sociopolitical study, or character dissection, or psychedelic trip. It’s all of those things, and Giacomo Abbruzzese wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lost Illusions is certainly nothing we haven’t seen before, at least narratively. But it’s done very well. Sometimes, you just feel like having a good ol’ soufflé.

Under the guise of a straightforward love story, Sethi’s film reveals itself to be an incisive look into the long-running Indian tradition of arranged marriages and its implications, set against the backdrop of a rapidly spreading COVID-19. If that sounds heavy, it’s anything but, the writer-director ensuring that things don’t get bogged down in ponderous polemic or pretentiousness.

A cautionary tale, a story of salvation, sad, lyrical, funny and even brutal at times, Bloody Marie is a shot of adrenaline in a landscape filled with cinematic clones. It may not be perfect, or for everyone, but it sure is spicy as hell, and it gets most of the ingredients just right.

Sometimes we need to bask in each other’s demons, to exorcise them and achieve a semblance of redemption. Ree traces such a relationship; like an evocative painting, The Painter and the Thief will remain engraved in your memory.

This is one intensely-flavored meal that begs to be swallowed in a single bite. Compliments to the chef.

When the film isn’t deafening you with the sounds of bullets and screams, it revels in silence, in birdsong, in the buzzing of flies, in the tranquil sounds of nature. These sequences are captured beautifully by cinematographer Andrew Commis, Arnhem Land’s emerald ponds and breathtaking vistas forming a stark contrast to the bloodshed and fire and chaos.

It’s a thrilling, poignant accomplishment, as uncompromisingly bleak as it is epic in scope.

Hadaway indicts this country’s misguided preoccupation with being first, scrutinizing America’s twisted values via the prism of her uber-competitive protagonist. As a result, The Novice officially claims the title of The Best Film About Rowing Ever Made.

The result, while flawed, is glorious: majestic, atmospheric, visually stunning, led by two charismatic leads. Scott, at 86, shows the young ‘uns how it’s done.

One thing remains certain: Satterlund and his crew know how to drop jaws. The plot may have been told before, but certainly never quite like this.

It doesn’t talk down to audiences, instead inviting them to experience something relatable, something that both challenges and provides answers. How refreshing.

Stripped away off all privileges, a shell of a human remains, a carcass, and that glimmer of hope that keeps one going is the driving nucleus of the lyrical and timely To a Land Unknown.

A Haunting in Venice marks the best, most succinct, and humorous adaptation of an Agatha Christie story by Kenneth Branagh yet.

At first glance, the feature, which Johnson co-wrote and co-produced, may seem like yet another granola indie about a middle-aged man reassessing his life. And it is. But there’s magic to it.

Apart from the two leads, there’s little warmth or humanity to be found here, the film purposefully cold and distancing, much easier to admire than to love. That said, there’s plenty to admire in this sad, contemplative journey into the heart of darkness.

Gripping and mercifully short, it doesn’t quite achieve the status of cinematic gold. Perhaps it’s for the best, or Hayes may have fallen prey to his ambitions.

Corbjin avoids delving into Gahan’s dark history (enough docs have done that). Instead, he has created an affecting, at times exhilarating tribute to the band, and to exorcising one’s demons through art… be it by making it or discovering it.

If you liked Children of Men, chances are you will enjoy this film. It has the same blend of despondency and lyricism, hope and despair, beauty and violence.

The filmmaker confidently guides us to a conclusion that really isn’t a conclusion at all but a new beginning. These men may not be all that wild, but Daneskov’s film is just loopy and daring enough to qualify as such in the best way possible.

A low-key, warm-hearted-but-razor-sharp study of ambition, friendship, and humanity’s inherent differences – be it between two friends or two cultures – The Saint Bernard Syndicate leaves a lasting impression and is eminently rewatchable.

Kai Luke Brummer is a revelation in the central role, his introverted performance buoying the plot with nuance and charisma. We navigate through the horrors right alongside him, and we root for him, and in the end, despite a striking and sad realization, we gaze at the ocean and wonder if there’s hope for humanity yet.

Fortune Favors Lady Nikuko explores what it’s like to be in the shadow of your parent, the lessons imparted by our elders, the value of a support system among women, the power of literature, the appreciation of food (frequently referred to as “yummy”), and the importance of staying true to yourself. Eat that, Pixar.

Unpredictable, impassioned (despite the cold tone), and highly artistic, Ladyworld might contain a few amateur touches here and there, a few lags in momentum (and an utter lack of mainstream appeal), yet it’s cerebral and forceful, and will have you deliberating its themes for days after.

Despite all the flaws, Sputnik has one chief thing going for it: it holds your attention, from the first (and arguably best) twenty minutes, to the last (and arguably worst) twenty.

A bit more pragmatic, rambling, less lyrical, and not as laser-focused as Herzog's previous documentaries.

Go with the somewhat far-fetched concept, get past the overt sentimentality, and you’ll find a true crowd-pleaser.

Although Penn is the focal point of Citizen Penn, the real citizens of this story are the Haitians. They are resilient, optimistic, and refuse to be labeled as victims. I do wish that we got to meet some of them a bit more intimately, that Hardy delved a little deeper into Haiti’s sociopolitical history. As it stands, it functions as a perfectly serviceable call to action, an extended, heartfelt PSA that neither glamorizes nor demonizes the actor.

Seahorse’s presentation, while intimate and well-pieced-together, comes off a bit flat, considering how truly lyrical and groundbreaking it could have been.

Those seeking visceral thrills may be somewhat underwhelmed by Descendent, but the filmmaker firmly establishes himself as a descendant of the Benson/Moorhead cinematic lineage.

The narrative may prove a bit indeterminate and slow-moving to jaded audiences. Yet it remains an incisive and unusual little tale, which we could certainly use more of these days. That is something I personally think about all the time.

Klondike plunges you into the midst of a nightmarish life, on the brink of utter and complete collapse, leaving you wrung and dry. Not a light weekend watch, then, nor a particularly original or subtle one – but artfully produced, deeply affecting cinema nevertheless.

Say what you will about Cactus Jack, but the fact that it’s extraordinarily unsettling cannot be denied. If you find yourself relating to any second of its purposefully hateful narrative, you may want to immediately call your local psychiatrist.

Babenco’s cinematic farewell isn’t perfect by a long shot. But it’s brave and poetic when it comes to facing mortality and rediscovering life. It is also most eloquent in referring to cinema as one’s lifeline with a wistful view of humanity, of those friends who stick around and those who don’t.

We Are Living Things unravels gradually, methodically. It could’ve used a bit more tension and slightly higher stakes, for the silences in-between its words aren’t as weighty as the filmmakers seem to have intended. Yet it’s refreshing to see a love story rooted in reality, despite the sci-fi undertones.

The Shepherdess and the Seven Songs contains many such moments of scintillating, mysterious splendor yet doesn’t entirely fulfill its lofty ambitions.

Islands is as effective, familiar, and quiet as a microwave.

It may not be a perfect confection, but this cake’s got layers.

Do has created a tense, heartbreaking ode to a tragic time; a deeply personal story, superbly visualized.

Shinkai’s animated feature may sometimes seem like it was dreamt up by a 15-year-old teenager. It may move at a leisurely, awkward pace that threatens to come to a dead halt at points. Yet when it takes flight, it soars.

Look at Therapy Dogs as a cautionary tale, one bound to horrify unaware parents. Eng doesn’t seem to give a f**k whether you respond to it or not. Good for him.

We’ve seen it all before: the obsessive cop with emotional baggage, the small-town folk being interrogated, the lovey-dovey subplot, the tonal dreariness. The filmmaker isn’t aiming to avoid tropes, and what the film does, it does splendidly, though an injection of humor would have certainly been welcome.

It’s charming in its own modest way (it ain’t Laika), but the simplistic character design is made up for with energy and creativity. Whether all the cadavers, complex inventions, existential musings, themes of progress and censorship, and politics will alienate the wee ones remains to be seen – but, again, at least it’s not pandering. The Inventor is charming and modest but also honest and true – a rarity these days. Hurry up and check it out before Gen Z cancels Leonardo for being a misogynist.

The exposition-heavy, cluttered finale, wherein the plethora of thematic elements collide and threaten to implode, almost undoes the painstakingly built-up sense of melancholy/paranoia. Yet it’s refreshing to see a wide release aspire to be something more than just another creature feature, slasher, or zombie gore-fest. Antlers has something to say. It should’ve just spoken less, and more eloquently.

he feature’s laid-back, lo-fi, semi-improvised approach and brevity ensure that it never lags. Although never quite reaching revelatory status, Leonard, a keen observer of the human condition, pieces together scenes that are bound to strike a resonant chord – especially with expecting couples.

What We Leave Behind is about generations passing on their hard-earned wisdom. It offers an insider’s glimpse into our neighbor’s culture. Some may find its lack of emotional peaks – save for, perhaps, the ending – exasperating, while others may regard it as a well-edited and shot home movie. But look a little deeper. There’s real poetry here.

The filmmaker, doing a lot with an extremely limited cast and location, has a concrete vision and sticks with it, and whether you get it or not is up to you. A character in the film, when confronted, states: “Big question. Too long to answer.” That pretty much summarizes this cinematic endeavor.

Lonergan announces himself as a talent to watch with Kill the Monsters. He’s just gaining momentum. If he tones down his embellishments and tightens his focus, he could very well reach the leagues of the greats that so clearly inspired him.

Sobibor may not fully do justice to the Russians’ involvement in WWII, yet it certainly serves as a powerful reminder that the nation, so ostracized by the US these days, has plenty of heroes of its own. Hopefully, it makes enough of a dent Stateside to help the less-aware think outside the box.

Perhaps Landon could step away from mixing slasher horror with classic comedies and create his own thing. Or maybe this is his thing. In which case, I look forward to The Breakfast Club on Elm Street, especially if it stars Vince Vaughn.

Survival Skills has so much going for it, one may feel tempted to go along for the ride, bumps and all.

It would be blasphemous to produce another “Neeson-as-old-but-badass-motherfuck*r flick” after this one.

The film amounts to a truthful portrait of family supporting each other in a time of crisis and a painfully real depiction of the hell that was the pandemic.

Nuremberg is a competently made, overlong, corny, entertaining, poignant epic made by the filmmaker responsible for writing classics like Zodiac and duds like Independence Day: Resurgence — a jumble of the man’s best and worst tendencies. Scattershot? Yes. Way too long? Sure. Predictable? Yes. Cheesy? Yes. Did I secretly kinda love it? No comment, your honor.

An injection of self-aware humor here and there would’ve been welcome. Yet Blood on Her Name is a fine showcase for its star, and a sturdy debut from a director to watch.

Behrman sidesteps overt sentimentality, captures some heartrending moments and most importantly, doesn’t resolve everything with a neat “happily ever after” conclusion. The lasting impression Giant Little Ones casts may not be “giant” – but it’s certainly not “little” either.

The filmmaker goes for broke, deliberately setting sequences against painted backgrounds or giant black-and-white photographs. There’s a moment when Tesla belts out Tears for Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” into a mic. Such embellishments could’ve potentially led to a mess, but in Almereyda’s capable hands, they somehow coalesce into a dreamlike whole.

What really buoys the feature is the acting from its two leads, whose chemistry absolutely sparks.

Fun and chilling, this bed-and-breakfast gets an extra star for its committed hostess.

Filled with non-sequiturs, abrupt cuts, and nightmarish interludes, The Carnivores is not without its moments of humor.

So suspend your disbelief, get a little intoxicated if you’re of age (if that’s your thing), and you’ll most certainly enjoy this wildly entertaining piece of trash.

You’ll never look at life—through a camera lens, that is—the same way again.

As genre hybrids go, After Midnight displays enough nuance and filmmaking savvy to qualify as a success.

A warm hug of a film, The Outside Story may occasionally stumble and resemble an extended TV pilot, but – largely thanks to its charming protagonist – is bound to (however briefly) reaffirm your faith in humanity.

Klein’s decision to pull a Kramer vs. Kramer and provide his heroine with next-to-no discernible rationale for bailing on her family both pays off and becomes a minor hindrance.

Boasting impressive production values — especially given its budget limitations — it harks back to a more innocent era: a cozy, stylish, and mildly thrilling feature from a promising filmmaker.

Although Soderbergh complicates his cinematic dish with too many flavors, No Sudden Move still offers plenty of bites to savor.

Breaking Surface boasts a verisimilitude lacking in its glossier Hollywood counterparts. Hedén doesn’t resort to gimmicks like sharks (ahem, except for that dog), rightfully trusting that Nature’s elements present a formidable enough foe to his two strong female leads.

The individual sequences, along with the confidence with which the two lead actors navigate the sometimes-turbulent currents, elevate the film into the realm of art. After all, sometimes it’s okay for the whole to be less than the sum of its parts.

Slight but likable, Changeland deals with moving on and the healing powers of travel and friendship. Forgetting Sarah Marshall’s low-budget cousin, it’ll hopefully finally establish Green as more than just the “Zip It!” guy.

Loving Highsmith is about loving Highsmith and all that implies. As such, it gets the job done perfectly.

Once attuned, you’ll be rewarded with a sharply funny and oddly heartbreaking, albeit clumsily structured, indictment of our government... Armstrong’s razor-sharp trademark one-liners go a long way in saving this Day.

Preposterous but entertaining, Jurassic World: Dominion not only finds new ways to inspire the awe and wonder sorely lacking from previous installments, but it also recaptures some of that Spielberg magic.

As effortless as Clooney and Pitt’s screen charisma is, one can’t help but wish for a more polished scenario to complement it.