Jared Mobarak

The heart of The Duke is what shines brightest.

Moya has a great eye for locales and his production and art designers go above and beyond utilizing what Eastern Europe has to offer.

With excellent archival footage, first-hand accounts, animated portraits curated with relevant quotes, historians providing context, and the contemporary pursuit for justice, Rise Again proves itself to be an extensive deep dive into a subject that needs to be taught.

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

Garfield is funny and charismatic to draw us in and devastating when presenting the palpable shame that keeps us caring. Broadway cameos aside (some even get to sing during the biggest set-piece of the whole on “Sunday”), however, Garfield can’t carry the full weight of the story alone.

Bouwer utilizes a memorable aesthetic (think Annihilation) that personifies nature while also reducing humanity to its base yearning for satisfaction. And Kapp renders it all part of a bigger scheme revealed through dream-like trances stripped of subterfuge and hope of escape.

What begins like a feel-good tale of one woman’s quest to be the best, Stephanie Johnes’ Maya and the Wave quickly transforms into something much bigger. More than simply attempting to rejuvenate her career after three back surgeries, anxiety disorders caused by the trauma of the accident and its public backlash, and a loss of sponsorship, Maya’s journey became a fight for equality.

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.

While Eternal Beauty is oftentimes funny, it’s almost always dramatically profound and emotionally complex.

While the movie provides common sense scenarios, its success lies in putting faces to the issue. It highlights heroes and villains to transform abstract numbers into human beings. That power trumps any lack of cinematic brilliance because this type of documentary seeks exposure and potential hope.

Beyond its aesthetic and horror lies a poignant message about second chances.

This is powerful stuff that transcends time and place despite the production design being impeccably executed.

We’re shown damning cycles feeding on each other that prove worse when their hypocrisy and irony is acknowledged. And both Wood and Stone will make you scream and cry depending on what they allow or ignite.

While Sól’s trajectory is the plot’s main thrust, she’s really a conduit to a vérité depiction of life’s myriad complexities.

The last act almost feels like the directors were doing their best to talk about those things that would have either slowed down and complicated the exquisitely rendered first two, or hadn’t yet happened until she left PBS.

The result is as funny as it’s excruciating and alienating as it’s relatable.

It’s about hypocrisy, mistrust, and the struggle felt by second-generation immigrants everywhere. And Haq pulls no punches in depicting just how devastatingly bad things can get when a child’s mind is torn between a community built on archaic ideals and another entrenched in a present where such stringent rules prove impossible to uphold.

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

By letting the horrors to come unfold in all their uncensored brutality, Dear Jassi forces those who would rather dismiss such situations as not being their problem to experience the violence being done in God’s name firsthand.

There’s plenty to like here: gorgeous cinematography—there’s an unforgettable shot during a power outage at the coma facility, where the generator attempts to flicker the small, rectangular lights along the walls of the main, symmetrical room—propulsive synth beats to go with the choir, and stellar performances that at some point all skew towards parody to really drive home the indoctrination angle before each awakening opens eyes to the truth.

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.

Doff may have thrown in a kitchen sink of clichés, but he knows exactly how to marry them together. The result is an endearingly uproarious affair.

The imagery of water fish swimming in the sky while Hina floats towards an uncharted “marine” habitat of clouds is stunning to behold and the humor earns some big laughs even if much of it centers around teenage horniness and sex-based assumptions. Beneath all that, though, is a resonant tale of empathy and romance.

The plot’s obviousness melts away because we’re having a genuinely great time as these flawed men grow ever so slightly with each passing minute. They feel real.

There are no sides when it comes to appreciating soldiers like William Pitsenbarger—only awe. Rather than epitomize a great military man, he exemplifies what it is to be a great human being. That’s why his story can change the priorities of a man like Huffman and why those he barely knew can dedicate their lives to his honor.

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

Inventiveness, creativity, and complete disregard for mainstream sensibilities are what make the director so captivating.

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