Carlos Aguilar

Mexico’s answer to “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” the Ambriz brothers’ beautifully idiosyncratic I Am Frankelda was obviously influenced by Del Toro’s darkly whimsical oeuvre; thus, it makes sense that the director of “Frankenstein” has been a supporter and mentor to these younger compatriots in their pursuit of stop-motion greatness. They are well on their way.

As enigmatically as “The Meltdown” unfurls, it leaves enough clues above ground for one to patiently decipher the intricate ideas Martelli is working through in her quietly commanding, narratively rich sophomore film.

Throughout “Renoir,” a film of morbid whimsy by director Chie Hayakawa, Fuki’s imagination fabricates moments that, in context, are fantastical but, at face value, appear relatively grounded. It’s magical realism that feels more plausible than otherworldly, which makes for a disorienting experience.

Tight and taut, “Forastera” is a major discovery, handling grief with alluring stylistic choices that enhance the already remarkable narrative. If ghosts exist, Aleñar Iglesias has learned the cinematic sorcery to house them. It’s a luminous, spellbinding movie.

The unassumingly magnetic Okonedo radiates the assertiveness and tranquility of someone secure in her reality.

Ashes doesn’t feel like a typical immigration tale, not because of where it takes place, but because of the nuance of emotion that fuels it.

Even as emotions may overcome the viewer, Hamaguchi never pushes All of a Sudden into saccharine terrain for empty positivity or cheap inspirational aims. It all feels earned.

An argument can be had about what will end up being the “best” animated feature released in 2026 — it’s early — but there’s little chance another film can dethrone Decorado as the most mind-bending.

Through the increasingly ghastly parade of grotesqueries, Barker sharply comments on poisonous relationships.

The fury of Osborne’s performance, nonetheless, keeps “Mārama” a worthy anti-colonialist statement that harnesses the symbolic virtues of genre cinema for its understandably virulent tone.

The sort of film that urges one to tell everyone about it so that they too can bask in its wondrous pleasures, “DJ Ahmet” is a revelation in that it seamlessly straddles the line between laugh-out-loud crowd-pleaser and art-house gem with affecting gravitas.

If “Palestine 36” is indeed a filmic history lesson, it’s one worth sitting through. That a traditionally realized historical drama with impeccable production value and consistently effective performances centers the Palestinian perspective makes for an essential endeavor.

Buoyed by Scott’s level-headed turn — he doesn’t transform into a scream king — Hokum is a proficient horror exploit, which hinges on atmosphere instead of gore, even if its many frightening threads feel disjointed, like rooms in distinctly different hotels.

There are many heavy hitters still to come, but Hoppers feels like the first great animated movie of the year. At a time when our right to protest is under siege, this sci-fi yarn exalts the way an individual’s conviction can plant seeds of change, leading to a stronger sense of community.

This suggests that in old age, any one of us could revert to a vindictive version of ourselves, obsessed with getting justice for whatever wound we thought healed but is still throbbing.

A mixed bag of eye-catching imagery and formulaic writing, Goat disappoints because it follows every expected path toward a triumphant conclusion.

Arco looks at once fantastical and recognizable, removed just enough from what we know in our present, but grounded on familiar, childlike amazement.

Despite any narrative quibbles, the movie deserves praise for its genuine call for compassion. Scarlet’s final encounter with Claudius radiates with the complicated poignancy expected of real, difficult catharsis.

Alvarado’s doc is standard in construction but lively in tone, reflecting his subject’s engagement with the sociopolitical challenges faced by Chicanos in the 20th century.

While the on-the-nose title suggests each individual is an isolated entity...the character construction and how their respective desires intersect with one another, in tandem with an effectively dizzying atmosphere, render it more original than expected.

This outstanding debut from writer-director Adrian Chiarella organically marries blood-curdling fright with incisive social commentary.

Sure, the case can be made for this contrast between scatological humor and serious insight working as a mirror for how quickly a person’s reality can shift from joy to sorrow, but the overall effect is puzzling.

For all its entrancing imagery, Zi is ultimately contrived in how the few concrete details of the narrative come together. The result is more experiential than thematically substantial.

Facile explanations are absent from Josephine, as they should be, but what lingers is a sense that every gesture of empathy and bravery, no matter how small or imperfect, tips the scales towards good, even if trying feels like a losing fight.

The strength of the performances and the filmmaker’s smart handling of ambiguity (is there or is there not an actual monster at play here?) do enough to keep one engaged.

Underneath the lowbrow fart jokes and images of caribou mating, the Scrivers’ Endless Cookie honors the legacy others left behind through their experiences so that it can help each new generation piece together their understanding of the embattled present.

For his evocative and wistful romance to yield its intended effect, writer-director Cyril Aris’ biggest ask of the viewer is to surrender to the serendipitous nature of the couple’s connection — a request that is later supported with a concept that expands the film’s magical realist vein. Contrived by design, the premise eventually earns enough goodwill for one to play along.

The Tale of Silyan functions as a dialect between old-world wisdom and modern socioeconomic realities, between the natural realm and the worries of mankind; it’s both spiritual and humanist, about forgiveness and adaptability, and makes a case for holding on to what you’ve always known to fend off the illusion of progress.