Alex Saveliev

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.