Jared Mobarak

Director Pete Travis lends the evening setting a welcomingly mysterious glow amongst its shadows, visually complementing Neate’s plotting to bring us into the action on the ground floor.

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.

Odenkirk’s ability to juggle both sides of what it means to protect his loved ones does help alleviate a lot. Casting him at all in a role like this alleviates even more because it allows us to wrestle with preconceptions and enjoy the idea that you don’t have to be as big as Daniel Bernhardt’s “Bus Goon” to wreak havoc.

Minamata isn’t without its flaws, but a solid tale of art as power and citizens as heroes emerges.

Bahrani’s adaptation of Aravind Adiga’s Booker Prize-winning debut novel may have a heightened air of fantastical satire, but it’s happily-ever-after isn’t one where hearts and minds prevail as good vanquishes evil. No, this is about one’s constitution. It’s about finding the strength to break your masters’ chains and spill their blood.

Yes, there’s a central romance that sees Howard and the new housekeeper Annie (Brid Brennan) falling in love, but its purpose is less to fix what’s broken than it is to shine a light on the fact that some things can’t be fixed.

This is a very quiet and contemplative film driven by characters above plot.

How a documentary about the genesis of an artist’s album can evolve into a narrative about another’s perseverance with great things happening to great people is anyone’s guess, but here it is.

By separating this film into two parts we really get to understand how alluring Freegard was.

How Joelle Touma’s script progresses is heavy-handed in its desire to augment the tensions and provide justifications, but it’s still powerful nonetheless.

Noer isn’t interested in the pulpy, wannabe mythic journey of Papillon when there’s a meatier through-line highlighting our humanity in dire straits. Rather than make his film about how far our bodies can go, he seeks to portray the lengths are hearts will.

Don’t think this story is one steeped in heavy drama from start to finish without room to breathe. Roberts’ script — written from an original idea by Robyn Joy Leff — is also very funny.

Anxiety is high at the start of Jesse Noah Klein’s Like a House on Fire.

Script and production are impeccable, but I can’t say enough about the cast’s dedication to bringing both to life with an electric wit and resonant introspection.

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.

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.

It’s wild to think that Merritt has never acted before because he commands our attention with a mix of charismatic comedy and a sobering display of optimism in the face of annihilation.

Emma and Josh are experiencing this weird journey together just like they did the enriching if celibate one before it. And we want them to come out the other side stronger even as they spiral out of control.

Everyone on-screen holds fear in their hearts because they think the complexity of the situation is beyond their means. The question is whether they’re willing to try anyway.

Metz is great at toeing that line between manic and depressive moments, constantly deflecting her truth with humor. Argus is close behind—always smiling so as not to cry. Theirs is a journey too many must take. One full of possibilities and tragedies wherein hope often comes at the cost of pain.

A fresh spin on a classic theme.

The Fontana sisters amazingly traverse this evolving landscape, alternating between warrior and crippled as the plot wears them down to nothing. We desperately crave they’ll earn a victory, but a release from the torture may have to suffice.

These kids might not have a full grasp on the situation that’s unfolding, but they definitely understand how precarious things have become in order to exit their shells. They awaken their desires while the adults gradually shutdown, knowing that nothing will ever be the same again.

There’s just one thing missing from Zhao Liang‘s visually masterful documentary Behemoth: a before image of what this wasteland of coal and rock used to be before God’s beast was unleashed.

While there’s always a humorous slant to proceedings (kudos to Shawn Wilson’s endearingly pure park ranger), that edge of danger is where it excels.

Therapy Dogs is undeniably authentic, regardless of whether some sequences are staged: as each fiction unfolds we understand the emotions and futility that birthed them.

Murina proves a coming-of-age tale dealing with more than the usual tropes of puppy love, sexual awakening, and identity-building.

Its best moments come from Bolger and Rush’s dynamic. What begins with inappropriate thoughts moves to a battle of wills and smarts.

The film most likely work better for those with knowledge of the Ivory Coast and its tumultuous twenty-first century history, but that doesn’t mean those like me who are ignorant to that strife outside of what Lacôte and Roman provide can’t still enjoy the magic on display.

Because the journey is so rapid and anxiety-inducing, however, it’s easy to forget that truncated timeline in order embrace the adrenaline rush of fear and uncertainty that suddenly places a cloud over everything.

Is the big draw still watching Vaughn act like a teenage girl? You bet. But Freaky‘s success lies in its ability to create around that central performance and not simply rely upon its absurdity.

[Evrenol’s] success lies in the entertainment value this death-ravaged orgy supplies and it has plenty to go around.

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.

The (un)reality of what’s happening beneath the surface is hardly unique or secretive, but the way Veach writes its revelations and McKee films its visual labyrinth spanning past, present, and purgatory ensure the drama unfolding is never without intrigue.

Peirone reverses the usual trend of providing answers so her audience can open its eyes, inundating us with more and more questions thanks to a full sensory overload of sight and sound instead. Time becomes malleable, danger but a brief interlude forgotten as quickly as it was born. She removes the pathways from one scene to another so we can find ourselves in the same bottomless rabbit hole as her characters.

Lorelei is nothing if not a story about redemption.

While it’s not as overtly comedic as Stevens’ Jakob’s Wife, A Wounded Fawn is funny in its own way.

You couldn’t ask for a better guide through the psychological landscape of her character’s desires than Slate. Her ability to be hilarious despite a quiet role like Frances lends an indelible charm that ensures we’re in her corner from the beginning.

Blood Relatives delivers familial drama and genre hijinks.

Willer’s essay film is obviously a cathartic experience, her documenting a family history that transcends the personal towards the universal

The style isn’t necessarily inferior to Studio Ghibli—it’s just different.... But once the shift in plot occurs to add drama, the visuals change as well.

Its characters are unforgettably batty yet impressively noble...sympathetic yet fierce.... And their actions consistently achieve dramatic merit despite always culminating with a joke.

By letting the cast improvise their reactions through the lens of their experiences, Esparza finds truth instead. By highlighting Bleechington and Williams’ performances, he exposes how injustice is the new “normal” and how the consequences of one’s misfortunate reverberate well beyond him/herself.

The Legend of Molly Johnson never feels like anything but a cinematic experience.

The pace might be slow, but it allows some great performances to breathe.

Maskell is great in the title role.

If there’s one thing to take from watching Tony engage with his own past, it’s the gleeful delight he shows when talking about rejection. He wore every instance that viewers didn’t like what he made as a badge of honor.

Bielenia delivers a fantastic performance as his character overcomes insecurities and regret to speak the words he knows from experience can help those who’ve lost their way.

The humor enhances this drive by lightening the weightiness of the Lunsfords’ struggle as well as endearing them as a relatable group not so different from our own families regardless of our personal issues possibly not matching their immense tragedy.

For every person who finds the tone a welcome inclusion that helps make this two-and-a-half-hour mystery feel a whole lot breezier than you expect, there’s bound to be another who cannot separate what appears to be surface distraction from a highly convoluted tapestry of convenient twists and turns. Most will surely fall in the middle––like me.

All four main actors deliver great performances.

McCabe’s goal for his film is to show the chaos objectively and thus not take sides or betray the reality of just how corrupt this fight proves. He places hubris, dignity, fear, and courage onscreen—raw and unfiltered.

That this claustrophobic sci-fi thriller quickly won me over with its early David Cronenberg inspirations only allowed my excitement to increase with each passing minute as I found myself unable to detach from its captivatingly dark, timely pandemic mystery.

Pryce and Holder are perfectly suited to the roles and form an authentic chemistry that excels above workplace formalities.

Everything has a purpose, from the deer whistle to a clearing of bleached white skulls, as modern medicine diagnoses that which our minds can safely process while our eyes warn us about how much worse things might be outside the realm of science.

Cage is having the time of his life playing the role––flippant, unhinged, oozing the confidence of a man with nothing to lose.

This hard-boiled noir is the real deal.

Bad Education is a roller coaster ride from start to finish as the surface sheen of success is peeled back to reveal the proverbial bodies buried to achieve it.

It’s even more fun digging into the tales on-screen if you’re familiar with the pop culture appropriation.

While Employee of the Month might start slow as it sets this stylistically heightened (yet completely believable) premise, it doesn’t take long for chaos to reign supreme.

The film becomes a document of Ola’s lost innocence, hardening her to the reality that faith only gets us so far.

Grashaw’s ability to keep everything moving through that thick air of uncertainty is the film’s best attribute because it does feel like we’ve gone off-track more than once after chapter one (there are three, one for each sibling).

This trilogy secures our respect as a crowning achievement in animated cinema that should stand the test of time.

I think Gough’s performance is easy to discount because she’s often seen in the background, but she delivers an unforgettable descent into anguish and grief.

Violence becomes both a weapon and a tool throughout the proceedings while words do the same since both must sometimes be wielded as the former in order to be successful as the latter.

The seasoned director does a good job mixing in some kinetic action too, whether a high-speed car chase or multiple instances of one person desperately trying to shake off his/her assailants in pursuit.

This is a political film. If Olga’s pursuit of her Olympic dream is often narratively truncated, what it means to be in Switzerland while loved ones remain in Kyiv, risking their lives at the protests, isn’t.

The result is entertaining satire with a dark edge of relatable excitement.

The result is a fantasy adventure with high stakes despite death seeming impermanent throughout. Rather than be about finding eternal life like many tales of its kind are, Big Fish & Begonia is about giving it.

There’s a tug-of-war between plot and characters that always seems won by the former to the latter’s detriment. If not unforgivable, it is frustrating. Thankfully, the style has a way of distracting from those shortcomings.

The County shows that it only takes one person to beat the drum for change to occur. But it also posits just how sinister the opposition can be when its livelihood of means is threatened in the process. I think Hákonarson could have gone further with this aspect of the film because there’s some real suspense built as far as who should be blamed for the tragedy that sparks Inga’s crusade.

Reitman and company let actions do the talking for a good two-thirds of the runtime and it’s a true joy to experience. The actors have brilliant comic timing with one another and everyone feels as though they’ve been on the road to cultivate relationships built on respect.

Kroll is very good in a role that allows him to pivot away from his usual comic relief persona to be sweet and funny and complicated, but Pappas is even better as a woman unsure of her very identity outside of the sport to which she’s dedicated her entire life.

With Native American activists (Zahn McClarnon), anti-Mexican cartel women vigilantes, and the eye-opening power of white guilt when indebted to someone for your life, The Forever Purge is erasing the line separating its high-concept fiction from the nation outside our window. This franchise has never looked quite so familiar.

The final result isn’t a knock-out..., but it’s definitely entertaining. A lot of that success stems from the comedic rapport between Levi and Grazer with the former’s ability to portray Billy’s youthful innocence, frustration, and fear key to the whole’s authenticity.

The journey is nuanced and subtle, though, just like its science-fiction premise. So don’t expect a thrill a minute.

It reaches past the usual rock clichés to recognize that the struggle these women face is more immediate than striving to perform for sold-out crowds or become signed by a label. This is about surviving a chaotic environment marked by past violence while still entrenched in present-day political revolution.