Gregory Ellwood

Haru’s journey is more soulful and heartbreaking than you may want it to be. And that somehow makes the magical moments even more endearing.

Throughout this journey across North Africa, Laxe peppers the film with moments that touch on pertinent themes such as the power of a chosen family, Western society’s naive self confidence when confronting the environment, and perhaps most poignantly, the fallacy that because we have so little control, we can dance away as the world crumbles around us.

A victim of a politically motivated jail sentence for supporting the 2022 Masha Amini hijab protests, Rasoulof‘s latest feature will likely anger the Iranian government even more. Especially considering how brilliant “Sacred Fig” is at deconstructing the rampant injustice in the totalitarian state.

Zhao has fashioned a masterwork that, once again, straddles the line between narrative and cinematic art in a manner few of her contemporaries can match.

Framed by fearless and charismatic turns by newcomers Bahraminejad and Mana and beautifully shot by cinematographer Ali Ehsani, “The Friend’s House” is a remarkable depiction of life in contemporary Iran that will haunt you for weeks.

What’s most remarkable about His Three Daughters aren’t the performances. As you’d suspect, Coon, Moss, and Lyonne complement each other perfectly (although we should note this is without question the best work of Lyonne’s career). It’s the fact that Jacobs and cinematographer Sam Levy have crafted a drama that takes place almost entirely in one enclosed space and somehow avoided the dreaded claustrophobic aesthetic that makes one feel like they are watching a filmed play.

At its heart, the film is a love story. A love story about two souls who need to trust each other if they want to survive.

Masterfully played by Annette Bening, Dorothea is a fascinating character of contradictions.

Jenkins has a vision and something interesting to say in Private Life, but it needs some serious editing to convey it succinctly.

When was the last time someone who has so mastered the stage – Baker is a Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright, mind you – crafted a directorial feature debut of such artistic confidence? A film that feels a million miles from the confines of a sterile theatrical setting. A movie that is creatively propelled more by a filmmaker’s eye than the words composed by a screenwriter.

In a vacuum, Langley’s true story is quite remarkable, but sadly, the elements don’t truly come together in this somewhat by-the-numbers film.

Lacorazza Samudio has pulled off a splendid feature directorial debut. Inspired by events in her own life and a sparse 90 minutes, the screenplay is layered but tight. The emotional beats are purposeful and not forced. There is a nuance and authenticity to the entire endeavor that is genuinely refreshing.

These recollections might be captivating on paper, but they become somewhat monotonous and uninteresting on screen.

Unfortunately, Cailley’s conventional cinematic aesthetic is also often akin to a contemporary streaming movie (the first thirty minutes or seem like a television pilot) and while the visual effects are solid, there are few images that will stick with you hours after you’ve left the theater. What saves “The Animal Kingdom” is the genuine horror over this happening to anyone (Cailley gets that right, at least) and Kircher’s fantastic performance.

The initial inspiration was clearly there, but the execution simply falls short.

As the pieces of Ghostlight continue to unfold, it becomes increasingly clear what a smart and moving narrative O’Sullivan has put together.

Lanthimos presents a fully formed original vision that hits a perfect tone even when the narrative begins to get away from him a bit.

Despite all of the film’s time jumps and questionable character motivations (and there are some), when it needs to, the filmmaking is completely ace.

Sorkin’s voice dominates the discourse and the film rarely has a chance to catch its collective breath. While you have to give the duo credit for attempting an unconventional structure, it’s a choice that arguably only works thanks to the contributions of a stellar ensemble.

The movie is genuinely funny. The characters are well rounded. Giamatti inhabits Hunham so well he could crack zingers in his sleep. Randolph knows exactly what she’s doing and Sessa is just green enough to avoid the affected young actor syndrome.

The film team is so strong and the direction so fine that it’s simply hard to believe this is actually Talbot’s first full-length feature film. And to detail much more would spoil the genuine surprise of their many on-screen artistic contributions.

Hou and cinematographer Ping Bin Lee (“Renoir”) produce some stunning images on location (one conversation takes place as a fog beautifully emits from the bottom of a valley), but it’s hard to find a thematic connection between the directing style Hou has chosen and the story.

From a narrative standpoint, Decker and her three writing collaborators have fashioned a reasonably compelling story. What makes the film transcendent is how she uses the art of cinema to convey it and Howard’s phenomenal performance.

Sicario starts and ends with Blunt’s impassioned performance (and she's spectacular in her final scene), but it’s Del Toro who is the real standout.

The actors are game, but their connection is more cutesy than romantic.

Dhont, who displayed an impressive artistic vision with his feature and slightly problematic debut “Girl,” has pulled off something miraculous with his sophomore effort.

Dunn demonstrates an impressive ability to bring his unique interpretation of the coming out process to life.

The film’s title isn’t just referring to the past, but what everyone involved witnesses in their communities everyday. By letting this fester and not confronting it dead on are we not saying we’re fine with being “barbarians’? It’s a credible question the filmmaker leaves you to ponder in private.