Dan Mecca

What one will remember from The Falling Star are small things. The way characters get into cars or attempt to fall asleep. The way they pour beer or run from gunfire. For this writer, the small things do not add up to quite enough. Yet when it’s funny, it is really funny.

Its pandemic setting proves effective, the class commentary engaging, and performances top-notch.

This is a short, punchy bit of work. It’s hard to parse the fiction from the non-fiction, which is certainly the point. The people surviving through this war are keeping the cultural candle lit for future generations of Ukrainians. Both legend and fact must live on. Amidst the forlorn images and scorched earth, there is some sort of hope.

Things are revealed, loose ends are tied, and Kormákur keeps it all moving at brisk pace given the evolving intrigue. The word “lovely” feels old-fashioned, but it’s appropriate here. This is a lovely film.

While A Sacrifice‘s third act may be a bit too silly for its own good, the pervasive feeling of dread will linger on long after the credits roll.

Ezra is a flawed, earnest, often-unflinching look at a family doing their best.

Connolly continues to grow as a filmmaker, as evidenced in his last three pictures (The Dry, Blueback, and Force of Nature: The Dry 2), all starring Bana. While The Dry may hold greater dramatic weight, Force of Nature is a more complicated affair. More red herrings, more technical proficiency.

This film is blunt and direct to degrees that may disengage some viewers.

Glitter & Doom feels like a beautiful, energetic half-measure.

High & Low: John Galliano feels like half a movie––plenty of questions, no answers. It’s the beginning of an intriguing conversation and not much else.

The tone is snug and pleasant, the frames unobtrusive and patient. In the third act, Kulcsar’s ultimate ambition reveals itself and its fittingly adventurous for a film wherein adventure is simply a vacation worth taking. If only life were that easy!

Despite some devoted performances and interesting formal choices, its endgame is rather rote. That the film is quieter and more deliberate in getting there doesn’t make it any less cliche.

As the survivors of these schools grow older and pass on, this film should remind future generations on whose hands the blood rests. More must be done, but it’s a start.

There are few things better than when a good idea blossoms into a great movie. It’s What’s Inside, written and directed by Greg Jardin, achieves this rare feat.

That Porcelain War emerges as a taut, effective war documentary that also features compelling animated sequences within the beautiful artwork of its lead subjects makes it a stand-out piece of filmmaking. Its existence proves its own point: even in war, there must be life. Art sustains us and helps us survive.

Despite its straightforward, perhaps manipulative heart-tugging nature, this film is impossible not to like because of the goodwill of its subject and foundation he created.

Though there may be too much here, plenty of it’s compelling and important. The Outrun is undoubtedly a hard sit, but Ronan serves as a superb vessel through choppy waters.

That Culkin has both the charm and bite to carry it is superb, and there’s a bravery to the open-endedness Eisenberg permits. It’s clearly a personal endeavor and clear point of growth as a filmmaker.

Dewey is the highlight of the picture, offering both humor and pathos throughout while playing off Barrera nicely.

Carion is unabashed in his love for both the cabbie and his fare. That affection makes it easy for us to love them too.

This is a classical director, someone who clearly enjoys bringing the past to life. With The Boys in the Boat, he found the right book and the right actors in Turner and Edgerton.

Becoming a parent means living for another life as much as––if not more than––your own. There’s nothing straightforward about it. At times, this film is a bit too straightforward.

Merchant Ivory ultimately feels like a a devoted document of a group of artists who lived complicated, interesting lives. And while this film may not fully capture that complexity, there are forty films they made that get to the heart of the matter.

It feels like there could be a second film just as compelling thanks to Lady Bird’s essential observations.

Moss and McBaine do well to examine their subject from every angle. And yet, it’s not nearly enough.

A Still Small Voice captures good people doing their best to navigate constant crisis. The struggle will linger with you for some time.

In so many ways, A Haunting in Venice feels like some sort of culmination.

Dreamin’ Wild is a kind film about kindness. While comforting in some respects, it lacks a certain amount of punch. Pohlad’s intentions are noble, and the talent of the Emerson brothers is clear enough. One can be happy it exists without fully embracing the film itself.