Alex Saveliev

The White Crow demonstrates that, if perhaps not having yet mastered all of the nuances of directing an artful biopic, Fiennes possesses a keen eye for detail – and the man just can’t help but exude sophistication.

With A Taste of Hunger, it is clear that Boe loves food. The film celebrates the culinary arts, as the cinematography lovingly displays exquisite dishes that please the eye as much as the taste buds. He studies how light and sound may affect taste. His approach to gastronomy is as meticulous as the dishes his protagonist prepares.

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.

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

A bit too somber and detached for its own good, Human Factors nevertheless marks another strong entry from a filmmaker who – after several shorts, a documentary, and one other feature – is just getting started.

For all its claims to be rebellious, Good Boys is surprisingly tame by today’s standards.

There’s something missing in this concoction: self-aware humor, a courage of its convictions, a driving force that propels the plot forward . . . Perhaps it was all just too steep a hill to climb.

Jared Leto's performance as Maurizio’s cousin, Paolo Gucci, is so over-the-top that it bursts right through the top and swallows up the film whole. Unrecognizable under layers of make-up, speaking in high-pitched, heavily-accented intonations, he’s a live-wire but also a caricature that borders on nasty stereotyping. He out-gagas Gaga (who’s at least partially of Italian ancestry), which is no small feat.

While it may raise more questions than answers and not quite cohere as a whole, the film nevertheless is poetic and at times breathtakingly beautiful, anchored by a superb cast.

Watching the multiple, nonsensical, seizure-inducing sequences, set to bottom-of-the-barrel, thunderous EDM and homemade melodramatic beats feels like being smacked in the head repeatedly by a blaring subwoofer.

Andrew Commis and Rick Rifici’s jaw-dropping camerawork is worth the ticket price by itself: Abby’s fingers brushing against the grouper, whales scaling the surface of a deep-blue ocean, the skeleton of a blue whale resting among rocks. These visuals make the abundant preaching throughout Blueback palatable but make you long for a tighter focus and a subtler approach.

Featuring fascinating archival footage, timeless music, and a plethora of compelling subjects, Viva Verdi may have a rather narrow target audience. But boy, will it please them.

At 75 minutes, Ottolenghi and the Cakes of Versailles goes down easily but lacks a distinctive flavor.

No one would rationally expect the man behind Disneynature fare such as Penguins, Elephant, and Diving with Dolphins to make his directorial debut with a demonic horror feature.Yet here we are, witnessing David Fowler perform a 180° swivel, from anthropomorphizing animals to slaughtering human beings in Welcome to the Circle. The results clearly demonstrate that he should’ve stuck to voicing chimpanzees.

Diaz wears his heart on his sleeve and elicits affecting performances from his cast, but his portrait of a country in turmoil feels incomplete.

It's jaw-dropping how slapdash Sheridan's approach is to what's supposed to be the heart and soul of the story – the bonding between Hannah and Connor. The characters are so cardboard, it's a wonder they don't catch fire.

A moderately fun B-flick masquerading as an “elevated” genre piece, it doesn’t quite bury itself but never quite finds its footing either.

Here’s something you haven’t seen before, masquerading as something you have 1,000 times. It may be a one-trick pony, but it’s well worth the ride when the pony is this unhinged.

As it stands, it should keep survival fans satiated, mystery fans somewhat aggravated, and those expecting dry stuff, well, utterly baffled.

The fact that pretty much nothing makes sense renders the dull narrative that much more difficult to bear. So many questions arise regarding the laws established in this film’s universe, I frankly don’t even know where to start. So I won’t

Eastwood is a formidable filmmaker, a force of nature, whose films like Mystic River will forever remain in the pantheon of Great Cinema. Alas, Cry Macho may likewise be forever regarded as a perplexing glimpse at a different side of the man, one who's created this macho persona and who now attempts to absolve himself, to only – pardon my crude use of the idiom – dig his own grave.

It may tread familiar territory, but Skin does so with relentless energy, confidence, and passion. I can’t wait to see what Nattiv has in store for us next – and for Bell to get under another character’s skin.

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

This hummingbird soars. It has that based-on-a-true-story feel, with all the urgency and verisimilitude of a real-life tale. A sad and visceral indictment of our society under the guise of a thriller, Kim Nguyen’s rousing cinematic elegy will sneak up on you, like its titular moth.

"To elevate, to celebrate, to inspire,” another character states about the function of art. Rana and Warin’s film may not be perfect, but it does all three of those things rather effectively.

Them That Follow is a dark and richly atmospheric experience. Despite its missteps, this is one snake-infested cinematic pit worth investigating.

With Settlers, Rockefeller and his crew have created a striking little treatise on our misguided ambitions.

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.

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.

The film vacillates so wildly, it spins out of control. As for the love story sub-plot – the less said about the poor, vacuous hole of a character that is Marie, the better.

The actors do what they can, but even the talent assembled here can’t help getting swallowed up in the Shyamalan vortex of nonsense.

Coupled with a few inspired moments and an earnestness that’s hard to dismiss, the film manages, just barely, to stand out from the rest.

At almost 100 minutes, Lieber’s ode to surfing and overcoming obstacles stretches itself thin. Like the wildest waves Bethany seeks, Unstoppable needed to be more unpredictable, dangerous and, well, gnarly, dude.

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

3 Days with Dad touches upon subjects like familial differences, living up to your parents’ expectations, sibling rivalry, and generational differences. Too bad it’s all been done before, and better. Its flaccid visual approach and meandering, morose plot may make you pull the plug on your TV set.

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.

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.

Too much thought has been put into this one to write it off as a mere, well, write-off. But it’s also too slap-dash to be labeled a classic, nowhere near on par with Peter Jackson’s original trilogy. A curiosity then, worth checking out, especially for the devoted.

Salvable fully embraces its bleakness, its title almost mocking; there’s no salvation here. If it had a bit more originality or verve, it could potentially have pulled it off.

As it stands, it’s not much of an indictment. As honorable as her intentions may be, Bibeau ends up blowing the whistle so incessantly, it sort of leaves you deaf.

Carion, along with his co-screenwriter Laure Irrman, leave things annoyingly unexplained – which would be fine in a poetic meditation on loss and grief that purposefully raises more questions than answers, but is indefensible in a neither-here-nor-there pseudo-intellectual thriller.

Banks ends up with a glossy Hollywood flick disguised as a straight-to-VOD grindhouse title. It feels dishonest, forced, and overstuffed.

It’s all been-there, done-that stuff, diluted further by forgettable characters, plot holes, and a desire by the studio to “get back on track” that transcends earnestness and becomes borderline-insufferable.

The movie is a heart-on-the-sleeve, old-fashioned action-adventure thriller. This Balloon may not exactly soar, but it’ll give you a satisfyingly stirring ride.

The writer and the director rub our faces in muck until all we see is darkness, providing the faintest ray of light at the end. You will be infuriated – not so much at the witnessed injustices as at the filmmaking team for subjecting you to over two hours of grief and misery.

An eccentric local priest spouts nonsense, blood gushes out of the shower, bodies twist and contort at impossible angles, and creatures from hell crawl towards the camera. By the time the convoluted, shrieky finale arrives, it all blends together into nothing more than dull background noise. Your investment in the story will be indirectly proportional to its running time.

While Castle in the Ground may not quite hold together from a narrative perspective, it’s so atmospheric, so acute in the small, tender moments it captures and is propelled by performances of such power, that it hardly matters.

Whether you’ll have a blast with this beat has nothing to do with your affinity for metal music and everything to do with your tolerance for “heart-on-the-sleeve” independent filmmaking.

Panek doesn’t sugarcoat anything in his beautifully-shot, grim tale, but ultimately, it’s his belief in human kindness that prevails. There may not be any lycanthropes in Werewolf, but they’d most likely seem like puppies next to the true evil he depicts.

David Perrault’s Savage State opts for Jacques Audiard’s contemplative mood but fails to balance it out with fleshed-out heroes, a sense of humor, or even a coherent point. What we’re left with is the novelty of a well-worn genre seen through a very French, existential prism; it’s all jaw-droppingly beautiful and sleep-inducingly dull.

It’s well-structured, handsomely shot, and features some impressive acting. The thing is there’s just not that much to make it stand out from the crowd either.

Good-looking but predictable and schlocky, Mia and the White Lion is ultimately saved from slaughter by its two plucky heroes.

An unnecessary addition to the middling pantheon of pot flicks, Breaking Habits, like mid-grade schwag, is unlikely to get you buzzed.

A Gen-Z Bonnie and Clyde, Marmalade takes big, admirable swings, and while it misses some, it avoids the cardinal sin of being boring.

Ben Whishaw’s raw central performance keeps one glued to the screen, but the cold and distancing result doesn’t quite do it justice. Shame, as Karia, displays a knack for building tension and maintaining an almost nauseatingly melancholic atmosphere. If only he dug a little deeper.

Nightride promises to take you on a ride, which it does; a bumpy one, filled with detours and ennui-inducing stretches.

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

Wan has style to spare, his direction brimming with confidence and his by-now-familiar trademarks.

Yes, it’s that kind of movie: ludicrous but seemingly unaware of its own pretensions, never quite so-bad-it’s-good, but rarely good enough to rise above bad. The filmmaker seems confident that he’s assembled an “elevated horror,” minimalist masterpiece. Unfortunately, the result is just minimal.

Fatima has excellent production design. A lot of care went into getting the period details right. There’s some beautiful cinematography and decent performances all around. It’s just all so mushy and predictable. Faith vs. science, tragedy testing one’s faith – those themes have been explored before, more enticingly. Pontecorvo turns a fascinating bit of history into a by-the-numbers affair, and that may be Fatima’s greatest sin.

Paradise Hills has pacing issues, and a made-for-TV feel it can’t quite escape. A firmer grasp of tone would’ve benefited the narrative. Yet its creators’ boundless imagination carries it through the rougher patches.

Exploring universal themes of seeking familial connection and kindness, Adopting Audrey verges dangerously close to becoming as aimless as its heroine. But because of Malone’s sublime performance, it manages to stay on course. Maybe in the future Cahill could benefit from adopting a different approach.

Into the Darkness serves as a keen portrait of a deeply divided country, unsure of where its allegiance lies. Heavy-handed and slow-moving at times, further bogged down by extended speeches about the future of Denmark’s economy/industry, this behemoth nevertheless impresses, simply due to the sophistication of it all.

The writer-director’s perverse, continuous, and purposeful avoidance of any semblance of genuine emotion or coherence results in an aggressively unpleasant experience.

Stewart commands the screen in a fierce performance, effortlessly elevating the material with a few poignant glances and teeth-clenched determination.

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.

A commendable subject matter does not a good movie make. Tape is inherently misguided, a queasily voyeuristic project, rendered nearly-unwatchable by its pseudo-artistic tendencies and patronizing tone.

This is a low-key, indie take on a well-worn genre; one that frequently resorts to scatological humor and easy targets, making for an odd mix of the sophisticated and crass.

Its dismal grey/brown color palette doesn’t help the film’s sluggish pacing, making The Operative one of the most head-scratching, aggravating experiences of the year so far.