Jared Mobarak

Things do get extra silly by the end, but the blackly comedic tone is consistent enough to allow for such a wild turn of events to feel at home nonetheless.

Glowicki does a great job grounding things in the confused malaise of a woman suddenly devoid of ambition beyond finding that cat.

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

The film doesn’t nail every beat . . . but what it gets right is unassailable.

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.

Thankfully Johnson got someone like Powley to take on the central role because it’s through her honesty that we allow the rest to be somewhat two-dimensional.

While things do ultimately get heavy-handed at times (Grace comparing Edward’s act to murder is one thing, him comparing it to the utilitarian sacrifice of war is another), it never gets boring.

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.

Records does his best Lou Taylor Pucci in the lead role, crazed yet innocent (his turn from Where the Wild Things Are unavoidably brought to mind). He imbues John with a sense of longing, out-of-place and out-of-touch with social cues delivered his way.

It means something to see activists in Wisconsin band together and dig for the truth even if the damage has already done its job. Dashed hope is still hope after all. Every example—failed or not—reminds us that we can fight again.

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.

Director Terence Krey and Nyland (who co-writes as well as stars) have crafted a horror film under the name of the aforementioned song An Unquiet Grave, so a return to happiness will inevitably be short-lived if it even arrives.

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.

Vigalondo has a top-notch conceit that unfortunately loses its way when buckling under the weight of the middle third’s anything goes antics. Thankfully, however, the climax prevails in its thematic resonance, moral quandary, and righteous hope.

Lutz has composed a university lecture in its own right: educationally pragmatic and historically enlightening.

While I really like how Kalashnikov doesn’t inject himself into the footage with chapter titles, narration, or government officials explaining things, it’s difficult not to wonder if a bit more guidance could have helped The Road Movie from risking reductive criticism as a glorified YouTube playlist.

To say The Swearing Jar is an uplifting film without a clarifier such as “bittersweet” is perhaps a tough sell, but that’s exactly what it is.

McArdle and Brallier have thus rendered VFW an efficient us versus them scenario with Fred’s crew possessing an infectious, three-dimensional rapport opposite Boz and cronies leaning into their one-track yearning for a fix. Begos then brings the grainy and gritty aesthetic its predecessors possessed to really deliver a throwback vibe augmented solely by new advancements in violently realistic gore.

Verma and Moroles stick together even when things get too crazy to believe—each ready to take a bullet for the other if necessary. Their comedic timing is only outdone by their authentic, heartfelt terror about the unknown. Never let your fear of what others might think outweigh the fear of letting it dictate who you become.

It’s the story of a young woman coming of age against the backdrop of both the injustices of her family and country. The former is overtly portrayed by the events that lead Margo to run, but the latter is never far behind despite its more subtle inclusion.

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.