Jared Mobarak

Zbanic expertly wades through the scenario so that we aren’t taken for granted. Rather than show us what we know is happening, she includes foreshadowing, rumors, and expressions to put a chill in our spine instead. What’s more is her ability to weave in the reality that this fight concerns divisions on the lines of religion and race rather than pure geography.

While Bracken helps create the nightmarish mood, Doupe is left to suffer its wrath and humanize the ordeal by struggling to readily believe the unfathomable.

So Late So Soon proves a warts-and-all expression of love, companionship, and the struggles intrinsic to the proximity inherent in both and how age makes everything harder.

Since each one of these cousins has led such a distinct life from the others despite coming from the same place, everyone watching will be able to see a bit of themselves in one or more of them too. That’s why culturally relevant stories like Cousins are so crucial to understanding our world. They show us how alike we are no matter our religion, history, or skin color. To see their struggle is to sometimes know your role in its creation. To see their courage is to be inspired.

It’s not often delays, financial dissolutions, and waning interest make a film better, but I don’t want to know what Mad Max: Fury Road might have been without them. In its current form the film embodies a logical escalation of what director George Miller began over three decades ago by embracing the insanity eating away at his titular road warrior’s resolve.

McCarthy and Grant’s rapport in these roles cannot be beat. Their caustic wit is mutual so each biting takedown is either appreciated or met by another in return.

Just like Moore’s previous films The Secret of Kells and Song of the Sea, a consistently mesmerizing Celtic flavor is imbued into the animation, music, and story.

The purpose of Nelson and Curry’s film is to therefore turn the focus of what happened back onto the real perpetrators rather than the victims who have been vilified as such instead.

Unconcerned with happy or sad endings (or endings at all beyond the desire for one to be shared and enjoyed to its fullest), [Sødahl] focuses instead on the unbridled emotions that swirl within us on the difficult journeys through tragedy. Nothing is out of bounds.

Neulinger dives in headfirst to break down every single aspect of his journey towards the truth.

A stirring tribute to a man of many talents, Chevalier gorgeously gives a once-forgotten virtuoso violinist the cinematic treatment.

Wandel pulls no punches in her depiction, and both Leklou and Vanderbeque deliver performances well beyond their years.

A tense journey of psychological despair.

Watching Matthew Heineman’s documentary The First Wave isn’t therefore a casualty of diminishing returns due to a false sense of redundancy. If anything, it proves more powerful from accumulation.

Addiction, mental illness, and religion become more than just color — they become real motivating factors that cause us to reevaluate everything we thought we knew. What’s great about this transition is that Wang isn’t merely a guide leading us through. She’s experiencing this shift too.

Nothing occurs that isn’t meticulously exacting to the story’s trajectory whether it’s seemingly throwaway characters or expert deflections of truth where the pieces are supplied but the underlying machinations are still out of reach.

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

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.

You can’t help be inspired by their courage under fire from all angles. Seeing these women smile in the faces of men telling them what they’re doing is wrong or refusing to understand the nuance of something as simple as filler shots for professionally edited interviews is as potent as them giving each one the middle finger since their presence in the news world is that and more on its own.

This is a contemporary slice of life drama that provides its central characters the agency with which to choose the existence they desire regardless of what cultural, societal, or familial traditions demand. These women aren’t merely bucking against the religious norms of gendered relationships, but the patriarchy at-large. They are here to be more than wives and mothers.

Toy Story 4 was somehow baked to perfection.

That authenticity captivates. Seagrass understands that these couples’ retreats aren’t for everyone and that some marriages aren’t either.

Director Jeanne Leblanc and co-writer Judith Baribeau pull no punches in portraying the malicious underbelly of the town at the center of Les nôtres.

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.

The documentary proves an inspiring tale of the perseverance of those who refuse to cater to corruption and exploitation while also rejecting the alternative of quitting.

The intensity is too much to bear in the best possible way. Legrand knows exactly where to position his characters and what’s necessary to break them. It’s a steady crescendo of suspense despite his source of danger never shifting.

What begins as a modest and perhaps slight take on the refugee crisis tinged by an acquired yet welcome taste of British comedy, however, slowly reveals its underlying drama via the stark inevitability of its existence. You can only deflect from your plight so long before the stress and anxiety bubbles back to the surface.

The humor is infectious, the pop-culture nerd affinity relatable, and the familial struggles resonant. And it’s messy because so is life. Its happy ending is about learning to listen. That’s how everyone wins.

Get ready for a tense ride because writers/directors Christine Molloy and Joe Lawlor’s Rose Plays Julie never relinquishes its sense of brooding until the very last frame’s welcome exhale of relief.

These four actors provide their roles with a bold presence both in their ability to impersonate physically and embody spiritually.

Sable becomes a nexus point of preservation and destruction. Lucas captures it all as data while Mills unleashes the artistry of those numbers courtesy of sight and sound. Beauty lives in death. Suffering is born from life. Everything is connected.

A lot happens during the course of director Matthew Pope and co-writer Don M. Thompson’s Blood on Her Name … too much. This can prove problematic for what starts as a simple plot before things start turning convoluted real quick thanks to new revelations shedding light upon secrets and lies. Surprisingly, however, that perpetually escalating noise is justified.

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.

It helps, too, that the music is good (Kat and Bastian sing a lot, each song being plot-specific considering they’re writing about their love and its demise), the integration of social media effective (Kat’s life is online and Charlie still uses a flip phone), and the inclusion of Lou and the kids as a way to see both Kat’s and Charlie’s hearts beautifully tears down their defenses as well as ours where accepting this “whirlwind” (it is months, not days) at face value.

The dread becomes so palpable that the implausibility of a wooden door with three tiny locks somehow containing the Devil actually proves itself scarier as a result.

By fast-forwarding through the initial carnage and fallout of what civilization’s destruction wrought, Mendoza is able to create a fresh environment of extremes.

Faison’s performance in the role is not one to be forgotten either. He’s playing a man with obvious psychological trauma, but never in a cartoonish way. There’s a brilliant authenticity to how he shifts his vocals depending on who he is talking to too.

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.

Rather than have the plot manipulate his characters, Johnson lets them manipulate it. That’s an extremely rare Hollywood feat.

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.

This is a very personal story to Marder and it shows in the intricate ways he uses sound to place us within Ruben’s plight.

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

The whole therefore hinges upon Fishback’s performance and she assuredly carries it upon her shoulders.

Stefan Forbes has thus found himself at a Holy Grail nexus point with Hold Your Fire—his subject matter exists at a literal crossroads wherein the “us” and “them” are equally to blame, its complexity demanding the realization that “them” is a construct for violence.

Right when I was ready to resign myself to the thought that Revenge simply started too strong to maintain itself, Fargeat brought me back from the brink with a tense labyrinthine conclusion making use of its locale and blood as plot propulsion.

I was entertained and perplexed in a way that seemed intentional — my confusion a result of Naishtat giving his audience the credit to read into things with their own historical and political interpretations.

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

Shinkai’s film opens up from cute stranger-in-a-strange-body antics and expands into a philosophical and metaphysical parable about fate.

[Lane] proves yet again that nobody can tonally marry edification and entertainment onscreen so effortlessly. It’s masterful.

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.

Cervera’s feature debut is an accordingly powerful depiction of motherhood’s oft-overlooked cost.

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.

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

Its content, humor, and heart all merge to deliver a piece with the potential for cult appeal that transcends the act itself. It’s a treatise on America, the blurred line between taboo and cruelty, and our collective fear of real individuality despite claims by both sides of the aisle to foster freedom. The outcasts get their day.

Akl provides the scenario a keen insight that only someone going through the same push and pull as the characters could.

Its parts recall many later works as diverse as Trainspotting and The Ring, its depiction of addiction and stasis leading us towards a legitimately brilliant ending that brings the whole thing into meta territory with its film-within-a-film coaxing us to enter the fray ourselves.

It’s a captivating experience with wonderful displays of heart and humor, but I must question some of its execution.

Demon becomes a siren to never forget the past or the many bodies left on battlefields of horrific wars. No matter how civilized or at peace we are now, history will always haunt us.

She’s normalizing disability, spearheading awareness, and fighting for self-acceptance.

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.

A unique hybrid wherein fact is projected through a prism of fiction as both a mechanism to educate outsiders and heal from within.

Dale is a force as he runs the full spectrum of emotions to reveal why he matters and why he must also be forgotten.

A walk through the woods is thus the scenario that brings up the two genres. Mona sees promise and excitement being alone with Faruk while he sees the shadowy unknown harboring monsters ready to pounce. The film ultimately exposes that neither is true thanks to Drljaca’s decision to keep things firmly rooted in the uncertain volatility of reality—these teens crossing paths creating as much room for strife as joy in the grand scheme of things.

It’s nothing short of heroic and heartbreaking and important—both because of how laws in her name are still being planned to go before the US legislature and because audiences need to remember that victims of domestic abuse deserve to be given as much benefit of the doubt as their abusers. Being an addict shouldn’t disqualify you from receiving life-saving protection.

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.

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.

Sarnet orchestrates authentic horror through a supernatural filter wherein beautiful black and white cinematography can immortalize abject despair.

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

Mahdavian gives us enough for context and motivation before letting Colie and Hollyn take over with their enthusiasm and love of nature, and this opportunity to absorb it on a level very few people can. Because it won’t last. Life will interfere. So embrace the awe without regrets.

Their newfound friendship strips them down to their raw humanity in a way that allows them to see each other like no one has ever seen them. They grow together, acknowledging self-destructive natures without passing judgment until inevitably unearthing the undeniable truths even they refused to see within themselves.

We read into what’s been provided in ways that resonate with us personally whether or not the resulting thoughts were consciously presented. We make films ours.

Angels Wear White becomes a bottomless pit of despair consuming complex characters with nowhere to go.

While Star and An fantasize and joke about wishing they could become trophy wives of old, their roads are not paved in gold. Having each other sitting shotgun, however, does make the trip a whole lot brighter.

Hamoud’s message concerns having the courage to be who you are no matter what society or heritage demands. Compromise is important in any relationship, but it shouldn’t be one-sided and especially not favor the man simply because the culture is steeped in patriarchal infrastructure.

It’s light, absurd, and very low-stakes.

This insane stable of A-list actors finally got to show their chops. Downey Jr. gives some of his best work during act one with Johansson, Renner, and Evans coming a close second to matching his pain as they try to lick their wounds.

What’s really great about Archenemy is that Mortimer never shies away from that darkness. By toeing the line of mental illness, he can expose the cost of comic book heroics and the evil being fought against.

One mystery is solved so another can begin without missing a beat as revenge takes on new meaning in the aftermath of its completion.

McCormack and Morgan aren’t interested in sanitizing the messiness that goes into a woman accepting herself outside the men’s world she was born into. It’s why finding financing took years. It’s also why Sugar Daddy is so uniquely good too, though. They’ve put an honest, coarse, and authentic human being on-screen who’s breaking through the façade she didn’t even know she was helping to cultivate.

Adapted by Anita Doron from the award-winning novel by Deborah Ellis, The Breadwinner delivers a heart-wrenching coming-of-age tale within a nation that’s lost its way.

The whole possesses a pretty consistent narrative timeline, each new step building off the last with more invasive measures keeping colonialists’ descendants fat and happy.

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

Iannucci is picking and choosing our alignments for us with his desire for as much humor as possible. Devoid of the breadth necessary to make these characters more than comic relief, however, it becomes difficult to buy the pursuit of David’s victory above all others.

Rather than showcase itself as a psychological puzzle, we’re left stumbling through a predictable shell game.

It’s a devastating, relatable performance by Ferreira.

The film presents itself as an objective look at everything that might go into a school shooting similar to Elephant but with a narrative propulsion that also seeks to subjectively give us reasons why. It’s a duality that can’t help but give someone pause, especially if that someone has his/her own ideas about what the “real” systemic issues behind these tragedies are.

The role of Alice is very much internal and, as such, very reliant upon putting her thoughts onscreen. That we can also see those thoughts in our own minds simply through Kendrick’s thousand-yard stares, moments of lashing out, and visibly draining anxiety is a testament to her commitment to the character and the script’s nuanced complexity to allow her to say so much without saying anything.

Schaefer and Lawler pack their rounded vignette of full-frame 16mm film with contradictions, thematic mirrors, and unexplainable phenomena that confounds in its beauty just as easily as it enlightens through its complexity.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Be content with flirtation because it’s more than enough when coupled with a pair of the most charming performances of the year.

Real heroes are always one misstep away from being the cautionary tale they hope to prevent others from becoming. That’s why Hanif’s story is worth telling. That he can flirt with relapse, hit emotional brick walls that would defeat the best of us, and still look beyond today to realize the value of his life and that of those battling alongside him regardless of age, potential, or opportunity is why he’s an inspiration.

This film thankfully isn’t a dramatic piece gunning for awards glory, but rather a heartwarming adventure through the emotional landscape of a child unsure how to live. It is very sentimental, but that’s kind of the point.

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.

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.

We might still miss Sorrentino’s prior, more unforgiving tone, and his sleek filmmaking style; it’s arguable this material doesn’t mine the best of his strengths.