Diego Semerene

Jimpa’s exploration of non-binary identity ultimately proves superficial.

It begins as a clever pseudo-mumblecore provocation with shades of Bruce LaBruce only to quickly turn into indefensible nonsense.

Hood to Coast mostly suffers from an incessant soundtrack that stuffs the film with a peppiness that blocks the tragedy of its characters from view, as well as their overcoming it.

We never spend enough time with the characters to believe the urgency, and lushness, of their cravings.

Heidi Ewing’s tale of immigration and deportation afflicting the lives of a Mexican gay couple flashes its reason for being at every turn.

The Children Act stages the clumsiness of belated domestic confrontations with the very coldness that’s kept its characters from having discussed their emotions for decades and from having had sex for almost a year.

Philippe Garrel illustrates the absurdity behind the myth of the complementary couple with the same cynicism that permeates his previous work but none of the humor or wit.

Sergio Castellitto's film quickly turns out to be more interested in reveling in the secrets of its storyline than in its sentiments.

If the global reunion that the cruise ship presents here is such a panacea, why is there so much moping?

The Stroll is overtly broad, detached, and full of ready-made empowerment rhetoric.

At first, the film’s dark humor is amusing, only for it to wear off once an actual plot kicks into motion.

For a film so proud of its trail-blazing status ("the first 3D erotic movie"), 3d Sex and Zen is certainly driven by the same good old symptoms.

Whatever predictable plot the film tries to unfold never lives up to the excitement of its conceptual gimmick.

In the documentary, the game is a make-believe war of pent-up frustrations linking race, nation, and manhood, one which teenage boys named Mohamed can actually win.

If not for its performances, the film would belong in the category of Hallmark Channel tearjerkers.

The film eventually replaces the captivating smallness of everyday life with an inconsequential drama.

Xavier Giannolli consistently glosses every sequence with a stagey kind of humor, and at the main character's expense.

School Life is unfortunately committed to keeping its subjects, especially Headfort’s students, at arm’s length.

It's difficult to swallow the premise of yet another tale of a heroic white Westerner with good intentions trying to give hope to Middle-Eastern misery.

The film makes no attempt to embody the themes that form the core of Annie Ernaux’s story in its aesthetics.

Although João Moreira Salles tries to tap into the pleasurable elements inherent to the essayistic as a cinematic form, such as making the merging of intimate and social reality poetically visible, his storylines never quite gel.

A shallow film that leaves us knowing exactly what we're seeing, and able to predict what the characters will say to each other in the mostly uninspired and overtly familiar dialogue.

Glenn Close's perennial look of astonishment and resilience commands the action to the point of turning every other screen element into a gratuitous prop.

The allegorical possibilities of a disintegrating wall point to a film that could have been.

Its fatal mistake is to make up for blindness, instead of embracing it as something other than a liability.

The film is a rebellion of surfaces that never quite reaches, or emanates from, the underpinning roots of its fable.

The dialogue is so disaffected it's as if humans were replicants even before going through the aforementioned twin-making procedure.

Unlike My Life in Pink, Daughter of Mine sidesteps all ambiguity, as the film reveals everything about its characters straight away, leaving little room for unexpected complexities about their predicaments to develop.