Dan Mecca

32 Sounds is a meditation on life through sound. And though that sentence reads a bit lofty, it’s incredibly true. So often do we account for the images that shape who we are. All the while, the audio is right there, doing the same if not more.

Both Fiennes siblings are smart to never get in the way of Eliot’s words. By simply putting them in front of us and adding some air underneath, the film becomes a piece all its own, made for now.

For the most part, The Covenant is about the bond between brothers and sisters in arms, and the need to rely on each other when systems fail their pledges. Third-act qualms aside, Gyllenhaal and Ritchie emerge as a well-meshed Hollywood duo here. One hopes this is the first of a few collaborations.

Tonally, Moving On plays a bit unorganized. While the results are mixed, these performers make the journey worthwhile.

Featuring multiple lead characters, many points of view, and more twists than a Twizzler, this construct may feel convoluted in spots. Yet it is a concise, well-told piece of entertainment that’s smart enough to know being too clever can be a crutch.

On-the-nose dialogue and a less-than-effective opening in media res hamper the film a bit. Peren’s script gets in the way of her direction from time to time. The Forger‘s biggest success is its rendering of domestic life amongst wartime.

Ultimately, the mid-point twist begins a bridge too far for this viewer. So much of what is grounding and emotional in the first half falls away as the larger context grows more and more extreme. It all leads to a quite-exhausting third act.

Aesthetically and dramatically, Tantura is a fairly straightforward piece of work, and this is appreciated. We are being presented with the facts as the filmmakers see them. Schwarz and his collaborators acknowledge Katz and the complications of his word, while also letting us hear the admissions from the soldiers themselves.

Crowe is searching for something as a filmmaker. His first two features may not work as constructed, but it’s clear the themes and emotions within are important to him. There is ambition at the edges, here’s hoping the third time is the charm.

Kramer and Riseborough are clearly on the same wavelength, both understanding that though the representation in Please, Baby, Please is important, it is most vital the film be entertaining. In both respects they find success.

The tone throughout Confess, Fletch is refreshingly casual and the dialogue is usually clever. The silliest bits are some of the accents and a twisty plot. Hamm anchors all of it, as funny as he’s teased at being for the last decade or so in supporting roles.

Ayouch’s aesthetic is natural, the performances he gets from his actors true. It’s no small feat to get kids acting like kids onscreen. The musical breaks and classroom discussions are both engaging and provocative.

It is, above all else, a fascinating window into the personal and creative life of a queer woman constantly rebelling against the restrictive social norms of her time while trying to decipher what kind of person she is herself.

There is something admirable about the sheer hopelessness of this narrative. It’s not altogether surprising given Schrader’s imprint, but it lacks the nuances of something like First Reformed or The Card Counter.

McGehee and Siegel are at the top of their game, building to an emotional and memorable climax. Nothing is too shocking, but nothing happens exactly as expected either. One could look at the premise of this film and convince themselves they’ve seen it before. They’d be wrong.

While Memory does not fully succeed in its goals, it’s yet another reminder of Neeson’s sheer presence––a movie star if ever there were one. Watching him act against Pearce is also a brief delight.

Hello, Bookstore is ultimately a profile of a man as much as it is a document of a place; Zax knows that the man is the place. And vice versa. What a thrill to root for an everyday hero.

This is ultimately a picture that offers no answers. No clean resolutions. No overtly happy endings. This is a strength. Bialik is more interested in the journey to an ending, rather than the ending itself.

Simultaneously, Cyrano feels like something new and something old. The best of both worlds.

Do not let the brief runtime or spartan setting dissuade you. This is nuanced drama, well-felt and well-told.

Any pain is endured and ultimately enjoyed (save the insane gags Knoxville pulls), allowing audiences a guilt-free good time at the movies. It may not be smart, but the feeling of joy sure as hell ain’t stupid.

Too often do we take for granted the miraculousness of the moving image. Stigter’s creative extension and exploration of Kurtz’s film reminds us. What can we glean from three minutes of film shot in 1938? Plenty.

Brody is great here, his long face and animated eyes doing a lot of work. It’s a quiet performance, an arena where the actor has always excelled. Without doing much, we know Clean: who he is and who he’s trying to be.

Master is ultimately undone by its overreaching scope.

Credit to all involved: here’s a story about real humans and real subjects with real emotional stakes.

Formally, Living is unimpeachable. . . . That said, Living begins and ends with Nighy.

Despite some narrative and aesthetic reservations, there is an edge and an engagement throughout that make 892 worth a recommendation. Abi Damaris Corbin and John Boyega have done solid work in bringing Brian Brown-Easley’s tragic end to the masses.

While the structure is fairly standard and its overall aesthetic sometimes appears limited by scope, The Laureate is a solid, heady account of a particularly tumultuous time in the life of poet Robert Graves.