Jared Mobarak

No one can be trusted. No one is assured of their survival. We don’t even know who we should be rooting for––beyond the filmmakers themselves, in hopes they stick the landing.

It’s a devastating, relatable performance by Ferreira.

Rehmeier has found a way to traverse different genres while maintaining an authentic, honest mix of comedy and drama. He’s unafraid to go for the big laugh, regardless of subject matter, yet knows when to hit the emotion hard.

It’s a well-made directorial debut that shows a love for cinematic history and unique sensibility to build upon it rather than simply homage.

While Normal doesn’t deliver anything you haven’t seen before rife with convenience (a ton of kills occur by gruesomely funny happenstance despite an intent for murder setting these “accidents” in motion), it’s still a memorable ride for those who have already been lapping up Kolstad’s antics.

Terrestrial wears a pitch-black humor on its sleeve, a fact that won’t prepare you for how bleak the filmmakers are willing to run.

Vigalondo has a ton of fun with the premise of two worlds by changing both aspect ratio and fidelity.

Alexandra Simpson’s No Sleep Till plays out in a slice-of-life documentarian style. It’s a quiet piece with gorgeous images (kudos to cinematographer Sylvain Froidevaux) and interesting characters engaged in the seemingly wild juxtapositions inherent to maintaining a mundane status quo through the uncertainty of impending chaos.

There’s a lot of depth to this story. More than you might anticipate at the start.

August’s script deserves much credit––a lot needs to be made known during preparations for what occurs to make sense. That none of it feels forced is no small feat.

Moments when the characters’ actions and dialogue drive home this reality of Israel’s apartheid state are where The Teacher truly shines.

I only wish the third act didn’t devolve into generic action set pieces that ultimately leave the quieter, cerebral intrigue behind.

And while the inevitable devolution of Mia and Aaryan’s union under the stress of this assessment and their respective truths hidden beneath their ideal of love is dramatic, it’s Virginia who steals the show. Not because she’s an absurdly insane character that Vikander knocks out of the park, but because there’s a reason for her intensity.

It’s a solid debut for Morrison and a star-making turn for Destiny with a message for girls and boys to know their worth and never settle.

It’s a helluva ride through the annals of religious history and the ways in which the concept of God has been bought and sold by charlatans and pop culture.

It doesn’t take much to write or perform an explosive scene of unmitigated furor. It does to balance it with the empathy to know it comes from a place of fear. The acting is a huge piece to that puzzle because none of this works without believing Almut and Tobias are soulmates.

With potent performances and a gorgeous, textured aesthetic, The King Tide proves a mesmerizing experience above and below its surface.

It’s an imperfect, singular ride through small-town suburbia with lightning-fast pacing that causes some segues to have you wondering if you missed a scene.

Northam is very good in the lead role.

Norton is wonderful in the role, lending it a vulnerability that shines through the stoic nature of a man doing his best to show no fear.

If some things could perhaps be narratively tightened, you always get the gist of what Fessenden is going for while knowing those moments which might be lacking aren’t a product of intent. And if you somehow find yourself unable to get past them, it’s impossible not to enjoy the stellar cast of supporting players.

Despite its darkly supernatural package, however, Louis-Seize’s film adheres to its idiosyncratic tone of purposeful excitement for a future that’s hardly assured––death can be a beginning too. Rather than adhere to the status quo by taking people’s lives, maybe Sasha can somehow take their deaths instead.

Tonal shifts will have some dismissing Uproar as slight, but I think its motives are strong enough to succeed regardless.

Along with these first-hand accounts––and there are some spicy ones, considering the semi-final match between Italy and Mexico needed to be called ten minutes early after all hell breaks loose––the footage of the games themselves amaze too.

So much of Concrete Valley adopts a quiet, almost off-putting awkwardness that you’ll either embrace or not.

Just let the rage unleash in whatever convenient way is necessary to get the blood flowing faster. What’s good enough for John Wick should be good enough for Kill, so wake the boogeyman up and let him loose. Because we’re all here for the brutality anyway. There’s no point pretending otherwise.

Schaad really ensures that we’re seeing beyond the surface. We’re experiencing the characters, their respective journeys, and their somber realizations that some incongruities can’t be fixed with a Band-Aid.

It’s all over the place in tone, themes, and cringeworthy melodrama.