Alex Saveliev

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.

An indictment of a regime but also a look at the strength that perseveres despite the most dire circumstances, this film, and its lead star, deserve all the upcoming love at the award circuit… if there’s any justice left in Hollywood, that is.

A modern-day Apocalypse Now, a visual and aural trip that’s as abstract and surreal as it is stark and realistic, Sirat urges us to embrace each other, as the world swells and throbs around us.

The personal and the political intertwine, until lines blur and dissipate. Anderson punches your gut while warming your heart, and he leaves enough room for you to draw your own conclusions. What remains inarguable is that One Battle After Another represents the pinnacle of the man’s astounding career.

Hit the Road is a gut-punch of a film, strikingly gorgeous, as tender as a mother’s touch, as uncompromising as an aggrieved father. Panahi is acutely, painfully aware of the infinite nuances of family, how humans interact, and how to slow down the pace for things to sink in, or simply take a breather, or even sing a song. It’s the best film I’ve seen this year.

Erotic, sensual, and nostalgic, Tommaso showcases the sweetest side of Hollywood’s enfant terrible. As far his collaborations with Dafoe go, this marks the creative peak of their symbiosis.

The laughs in Anora come in so fast and frequently that they almost eclipse the underlying tension; things are constantly on the edge of exploding, amusement on the verge of anxiety.

You may think you know what to expect from Nebbou’s gem, but as it unfolds, the tragic, hilarious, deeply cynical, and oddly uplifting film proves to be as multidimensional and expectations-defying as its formidable protagonist.

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.

Like all of the renowned filmmakers’ best movies, this faithful adaptation of the Cormac McCarthy novel hasn’t aged a bit, its poetry and beauty growing starker, its themes gaining more relevance. An edge-of-your-seat thriller and an elegiac, gut-wrenching meditation on the passing of time and generational devolution, the now-classic feature showcases the brothers’ skills at their most stripped-down and rawest.

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.

With unparalleled verisimilitude, Hirori captures both the helplessness and the resolve it takes to see past it, to hold on to a glimmer of hope, faint as it may be. Sabaya will leave you scarred, its images scorched forever into your mind.

With Babylon, Chazelle laments and condemns; he documents and romanticizes. There’s truth beneath the embellishments. The filmmaker gives this project his all. Luckily, it all works. Bravo.

Forman’s classic has not aged one bit. In fact, it’s become more relevant than ever, considering today’s tumultuous climate.

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.

The Father is about the suffering of old age, the importance of connection, the sick encroaching of an affliction, and ultimately, death. It doesn’t sugarcoat things, despite its sugarcoated exterior. Like its French counterpart, Michael Haneke’s Amour, it’s not an easy watch, but it’s a necessary one, a film that examines the very essence of our humanity.

Young Ahmed may be described as a coming-of-age story, a searing character study, a visceral tale of redemption, a critique of extremism and the society that seems oblivious to and/or helpless against such evil.

Eastwood once again takes a sharp stab at America’s penchant for attacking first, asking questions later.

The film effortlessly examines hefty themes like freedom, toxic masculinity, privilege, familial bonds (and the need to escape them).

It is an intimate, somber, uncompromising cinematic portrait of a desperate soul in the vein of Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler, if it were cross-bred with Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver. The film will haunt you long after the lights fade.

It’s a feast for the eye and for the mind, done in a nonchalant way that would make the most seasoned filmmakers jealous.

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.

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

I can go on and on about the multiple tiny lightning bolts Hansen-Løve catches in her bottle. Arguably the biggest lightning she caught was hiring Seydoux.

Almost every scene impresses, has something to say. How refreshing is that? It’s been a while since a major studio production entertained and enlightened to such a degree, with nary a wrong step, for over two hours. If you can stomach the violence, you’re in for a hell of a ride. Here’s to the Western revival. I’m all about Jeymes Samuel leading this gang.

When it comes to survival tales, Society of the Snow sets a standard that will be difficult to top.

It’s not an easy watch by any means, and is bound to divide critics – but there’s no denying its forceful, searing power and the long, crimson-red shadow it casts.

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.