Alex Saveliev

Ozon knows his camera placements, musical cues, and, of course, actors, and here he barely steps wrong, pulling us into the narrative, even while dialing back on his usual extravagance.

Resembling a gradual immersion into a fever dream, the film slyly pays tribute to surrealist greats like Alejandro Jodorowsky and Dario Argento (“presented by” the latter director, it wears the tag proudly), yet also introduces a unique new talent with a fresh, distinct vision.

An ode to the artist and his city, Jay Myself may just make you stop and recognize beauty in a random light pattern, or in the way dust blankets an old photo.

A languorous and poetic study of faith, grief, love, death and regret, set against the disheveled, but gorgeously framed, backdrop of Lisbon’s ghetto.

Political intrigues, potential murder plots – oh, and Putin’s rise-to-power and consequent 18-year-reign – Gibney serves it up, warts and all.

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.

Papers Spiders is everything you want out of a teen drama, more Lady Bird than The Fault in Our Stars. That’s not to say fans of the latter won’t respond to Shampanier’s genuine gem. Don’t let this one slip under the radar.

While maybe not top-tier Jarmusch, the film certainly marks his most mature effort to date.

An elegiac, minimalist fable, Utama is about many things: global warming, survival, our connections to each other, our priorities. It’s the silences that propel the narrative forward, the wide-open spaces that sear themselves into the mind. But hope prevails.

By turns horrific and hilarious, touching and repulsive, it showcases West Africa as an emerging force in contemporary cinema.

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.