Alex Saveliev

Silly and scary, atmospheric and disjointed, I Trapped the Devil showcases Lobo’s affection for the genre. He wisely avoids falling into the “gore” trap, instead relying on characterization and our fear of the unknown to raise the hair on the back of your neck.

An acute reflection of the current refugee crisis, minimalist and poetic in its approach, Transit, unlike its protagonists, seamlessly reaches its destination: a conclusion so heartbreaking, it will resonate for weeks after.

With an authenticity rarely seen in contemporary cinema, it examines the lives of those that struggle to survive in ecosystems that function according to their own decrepit principles.

Here’s a film so quietly visceral it can sear through metal, “quietly” being the keyword. Don’t come in expecting a no-holds-barred assault on the senses. Nor is this a metal music extravaganza. The bulk of the film is silent, deliberate. We are thrust inside Ruben’s mind to hear what he hears, a pulsating, muted nothing, which is then jarringly contrasted with everyday sounds when we’re yanked back out of his head. The sound mixing and editing are nothing short of phenomenal in Sound of Metal.

What keeps you rapt is that permeating, subtle feeling of sadness, of bitterness and regret. Whether it was an intentional choice in a “comeback” documentary remains debatable – but that’s what truly works about it, is its driving momentum.

It’s all very granola and sentimental, a path well-trodden.

Warren’s film may leave you bruised, but don’t let that stop you from seeking it out.

Clearly a deeply personal project for the director, it radiates utmost sincerity, rendering the more baroque parts palatable, if not as affecting as they were clearly intended to be. Within 90 despondent minutes, Dante encapsulates a plethora of themes and ideas, and that by itself merits plaudits.

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.

The Proposal explores the ethics behind copywriting art, but it also sees its artist go to radical extremes that some may find equally questionable. It will provoke discussions and arguments aplenty. What’s hard to argue is that the documentary itself is nothing short of spectacular: a sublime and unforgettable work of art. Barragán would be proud.

While decent in capable directorial hands – or as a supporting character – based on the evidence on display here, Carano doesn’t seem quite capable of carrying a film yet, let alone pull a dreary feature like Daughter of the Wolf out of the murk.

In a brave move, bound to startle viewers used to conventional structures, Shults shifts gears, subtly layering shades of complexity without ever weighing the film down.

In a parallel dimension, perhaps, most movies are this well-made. Watch Parallel, and then watch it again to untangle all of its little nuances.

On the surface, the plot is simple, but the nuances, keen observations, silences between words, the humanity of it all, and the ease with which the filmmaker effortlessly navigates turbulent currents subtly transform the feature into a complex drama. There are no heroes or villains, no good or bad people, just folks trying to figure themselves and each other out.

Malick’s masterpiece makes a great argument that it’s the little-known heroes, as opposed to the ones we trumpet as such, that truly form the ethical foundation upon which our society still creakily rests. Malick is a true cinematic maestro, conducting the orchestra of life. A Hidden Life is breathtaking in every aspect.

Utilizing never-before-seen archival footage, expertly-rendered animated interludes, and unprecedented access to those involved in the crisis, Kopple strings it all together into a gripping and emotional whole, like a true master craftsman. I will not be surprised if the living legend brings another golden statuette home this year.

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.

Does it lose focus from time to time? Sure, and its cumulative effect suffers because of it, but Drljača nails the little moments that matter.

What does come as a surprise, somewhat, is Fincher’s departure from his clinical precision; he adopts a looser approach here, no less precise, but much warmer than, say, the steel-blue, fierce indictment that is The Social Network. “Photographed in Hi-Dynamic Range” to approximate the look and feel of a late-1930’s feature, Mank is incredibly dense, lush, and extravagant.

A call to action, a sobering first-hand look at the grueling ordeals refugees face, a story of love persevering against all odds, and a visceral, real-life thriller, Midnight Traveler is a unique cinematic experience that will hopefully snap us all to reality.

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

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.

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

The female-centric, lo-fi South Mountain is an excellent example of how little a budget matters when all the other puzzle pieces are in place. We need more cinema like this.

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.

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.

Streaks of sadism emphasize the prevailing humanity, as do the borderline-psychedelic brushstrokes: the intentionally murky nightmarish visuals, Ariel Marx’s nervous score, the bleak set design, the impassivity with which cinematographer Chananun Chotrunngroj’s camera observes the two women’s descent into madness.

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