Jason Gorber

Anchored by another admirable performance by Fiennes, it mines its milieu effectively enough. Even if the end result doesn’t quite live up to the majesty of Elgar’s opera, or even the truly transformative societal shifts that the Great War wrought on this land, there’s enough to admire about what takes place on screen in this telling to recommend it.

Certain to energize longtime fans and generate new ones for generations to come, EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert is a masterwork of montage. It’s a definitive doc that gives the sense of how the artist changed popular music, but also about how at his core he was a man with a powerful voice and a zealous need to entertain.

If one (somehow) completely ignores the utter ridiculousness of a musical performance anchored with mediocre singing (insert snarky Russel Crowe-related comments here, if you’d like), there’s still a lot of fun to be had from the film.

If you’re looking for a brisk bout of debauchery and family shenanigans, Alex Winter’s latest chilly tale may well be something to be warmed by.

At its best, Blue Heron soars, creating the world of Sasha’s family in impressively precise ways and allowing the underlying questions to linger without succumbing to simplistic answers or pat moments for cathartic release.

Whether you attended those shows, had your own musical taste shaped by those that took the stage, or are simply interested in a more detailed look at this impactful period of popular music history, Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery provides an excellent guide to this most epic of traveling shows.

Ultimately, Mile End Kicks is a messy, heartfelt portrait of youth and creative ambition.

The prevention of the rise of similar evil is an unending project needing similar vigilance and tenacity as expressed by many of those captured here on screen in “Nuremberg.”

No Other Choice ends up a laudable mixed bag, a lot of morbid fun with committed performances and beautiful composition that meanders long enough that its rage peters out.

Making dumb seem clever, and clever seem silly, Matt Johnson and company take their mockumentary shtick to new and dizzying heights, literally.

F1 feels, at times, like an underbaked episode of Netflix’s docuseries Drive To Survive—albeit one with Top Gun-style editing, incredible access, and enough drama to make someone bored of the racing become enthralled with the gladiatorial characters behind the wheel of these incredible machines.

Bold, effective, and brilliant in equal measure, Moll’s film is a fine policier in the grandest of traditions, joining a long line of noir-inflected French police dramas unafraid of being more than vehicles for action and retribution.

Resurrection is a puzzlebox to be probed, a dream not simply to be decoded to provide a singular interpretation, but one to be enraptured as you are caught up in its fragmented logic, soothed by its smoke-filled spaces, and stunned by the myriad connections shared between its two central characters.

From its opening moments, The History Of Sound feels like it’s going to be something grand. It’s this feeling that makes the warbling result that much more disappointing, a song soon to be forgotten.

In the end, Splitsville is a lot of stupid fun told smartly, unafraid to lean into the salacious while still somehow maintaining an emotional groundedness.

There’s so much joy in this telling, so much sophistication of craft on display, and such a delightful ode to this exemplary era of creativity, that it seems downright churlish to hold back for the sake of performative reticence.

There’s a fascinating movie to be made about this period and these characters, but Ott's telling is simply not up to the task.

The very act of filmmaking itself helps Porcelain War battle against those that wish to erase this delicate yet resilient culture.

On the one hand, Seeds provides a unique glimpse into one family’s joys and struggles, while on the other it delves delicately yet effectively into larger questions of policy, politics, the scars of the past, and the challenges of the present.

While parts of it are laudable, unfortunately, Emmi’s film feels underbaked, never truly elevating its story to generate the kind of deeper effect that similar thrillers have managed to elicit.

For those drawn to the bent, who crave some "Cheepnis" in a cinematic landscape of overproduced and overpriced madness, they just might fall in love with Dead Lover for all of its foul, fecund, and farcical facets.

With fun production elements, a goofy storyline, discordant yet effective sound design, and enough oddness to keep things captivating, traversing through the world of OBEX makes for quite an entertaining journey.

Even the most jaded may be swayed by Perry’s latest demonstration of his skills at making movies that work simply but that also simply work.

Despite one electric scene that makes the rest of the film feel more risible, Modi, Three Days on the Wing of Madness is a plodding, pretentious mess that is easily one of the worst productions of the year.

While Carax’s cinema may not be to everyone’s taste, this primer on both his philosophy and his aesthetic is as effective as anything he’s ever directed. Brilliant in its concision, even the most jarring of elements never overstay their welcome, making this perhaps the purest and most honest chapter in his entire filmography.

This is a complete vision from a newly minted feature director, and it’s a work very much welcome as it joins the many that have tilled similar acreages.

In a land where truth is habitually stripped away in favor of political and religious control, Bread & Roses serves as a reminder of the bravery of those who sacrificed all for the love of their country and community.

Thanks to Itō’s tenacity and focus, Black Box Diaries boldly tells her provocative and haunting story, resulting in a richly drawn portrait of one woman’s fight for justice that’s sure to inspire change in Japan and beyond.

None of it would be as effective if we didn’t care about these characters, and thanks to the strong ensemble and precise direction, the film slowly reveals itself to be a film worthy of consideration.

As audience members, we experience the highs and lows of the Pelletier’s journey together, never divorced by what drove the desire to experience the world, and reminded throughout how in our own lives we must, whenever possible, make the same choices to seize the moment and make good memories as best as we can.

The Bibi Files may not be the poison pill that knocks the Netanyahus from power the way that those on screen may be calling for, but it’s still a powerful presentation of the facts without ever devolving into being a mere polemic.

Elton John: Never Too Late feels like the definitive authorized film biography, and plugs a very important hole in telling his story in honest yet compelling ways.

Meet the Barbarians provides a light yet engaging look into how communities are built and maintained, and how differing aspects of their identities can form something better when people of disparate backgrounds are brought together.

In the end, Chapman’s film serves as a portrait of a family rendered in three dimensions, capturing both the strength and human frailties of these individuals in a detailed fashion.

It’s a boldly uncompromising work that strips some of the more cheerful elements to the bone. Yet despite this, there’s still a sense of warmth, of optimism, of quiet humor that shows how this deft storyteller can still surprise and enthrall, incorporating another exceptional ensemble willing and able to do the work to bring his lines to life.

This is the story of one who stood up, with all his faults and flaws, one whose ideology you may not agree with, but whose capacity to show justifiable rage speaks for those too cowardly to act. It’s here that Pink’s film derives its most impressive impact, and while few may mourn for The Last Republican as both the nation and the world race toward a chaotic, uncertain future, the end result is easily one of the best docs of the year.

The end result is a highly entertaining, highly provocative film that brings the best of a revenge thriller with a boost of a bit of deeper cultural expression.

The story navigates the fine line between community pride and nationalistic zeal, providing lessons for a future while admitting to the existential futility of it all. We can shift our perspective, but every time we do, things stay pretty much the same.

With bold performances, a strong vision for the source material, and a wise decision to focus on this under-represented portion of this narrative, The Return makes for an effective character piece that proves these stories are not only timeless, they’re as timely as ever.

With clever lyrics, punchy tunes, and a committed cast, this is another jewel in the crown of Australian musical films, a worthy watch even for those cynical about such unabashed flights of tuneful fancy.

It’s a film that’s serious about play, and humble about the need for joy. Piece by Piece is, quite simply, bricktacularly brilliant.

Dancing between the ruminative and the revelatory, it never succumbs to being maudlin or cloying. The Life of Chuck is a modern fable told with the deftness of a fairy tale, with the sheer exuberance of a musical while exuding the same sense of wonder one gets staring up at the heavens.

The End paradoxically feels ornamental and operatic while at the same time almost iconographic in its simplicity.

Berger’s latest is a blast of brilliance, with a supremely compelling story driven by some astonishing performances.

This heroic journey is Ani’s story through and through. It’s a brilliant role, written with such range that it takes Madison’s strong performance to bring her to life without succumbing to archness. She makes us believe every second.

Unfortunately, even taking into consideration the fact that this is a first time filmmaker, the result is a mass of half-baked ideas and poorly executed tonal shifts, squandering the promise of its early premise and devolving into a middling mess.

If you go into Bookworm expecting more of the same chills and thrills from Timpson and his collaborators, you may be put off by this far more accessible tale. Yet, peering closer, you can see reflections of the same rich emotional and character beats that have always been lingering within the more sordid genre trappings of Timpson’s previous work.

Cassel and Kruger shine, but the rest of the performances feel either staid or over-the-top. Some of the story comes across as pretentious, and some of the pacing is disjointed and inelegant.

The performances are stellar, the pacing both restrained and engaging, the realization of Cohn and Trump’s world is top notch, and the dynamic between the two is as captivating as any.

Oh, Canada feels less a deep rumination at the last moments of an artist’s life, and more the confused ramblings of an irascible, self-important character surrounded by sycophants unable to stand up to his unreasonable demands.

Megalopolis is a magical, meandering, maddening construction, one that demonstrates that the process of experimentation is in and of itself both deeply entwined with, as well as above, dualistic notions like success and failure.

For a debut to be this assured, and for a script to so deftly dance around the obvious challenges and result in a film that’s delightfully, darkly comedic, The Unknown Saint shows that despite all the obvious ways in which this work could have gone horribly, risibly wrong in these rare cases miracles can come true.

Ambitious and yet quietly confident, Hamaguchi’s film feels an absolute treat. Drive My Car is a hell of a ride, the red Saab riding through the landscape like a beating heart, taking viewers along a journey that they won’t soon forget.

Souvenir Part II is an easy recommendation on every level, a film that stands comfortably alone and allows Hogg’s journey to filmmaking, and Honor Swinton Byrne’s capabilities as a performer, to finally shine in a light that almost every cinema lover will be drawn towards.

Casablanca Beats drums its ideas loudly and effectively. The result is a boisterous and crowd-pleasing delight, showing a community with deep specificity that nonetheless speaks to the concerns of young people all over the world.

The end result is a real pleasure, taking us along for a wild ride. Yes, it’s slightly too long, and Baker and his team could probably trim a bit to make things even tighter. Yet there’s so much charm at play, so much joy in watching even the moments of pain and embarrassment that it’s difficult to criticize.

It’s a film that’s at its best when things matter and you’re empathizing even during moments of total butchery. It’s never easy to inject humanity into inhumane acts, yet Titane, like the metal, manages to do something remarkably strong in a compact form.

This is a tonally rich, libidinously powerful, and psychologically complex tale told by a master filmmaker equally at ease with European art-film conventions and B-movie hijinks. It’s this exceptional balance between the profane and the profound that sets Benedetta apart, truly proving to be penetrating in its effect in more ways than one.

The French Dispatch is a rocket ship ride to your cinematic soul, meshing word, action and vision in one glorious bon-bon that’s both sweet and savory.

Kogonada’s precision, akin to the blend we witness the master tea maker assembling, prodding gently with a wooden utensil to craft a perfect mix of ingredients, results in a heady brew that’s both intoxicating and delicious.

Followers of Carax will be warmed by his return if a little disappointed it doesn’t quite recapture the magic, while fans of Sparks (many newly minted thanks to Wright) may appreciate the foray into a different outlet for their art. For those of us open to the experience but without a baked-in attitude to love this sight unseen, Annette proves to be a deeply flawed picture that still has many moments to recommend it.

This bleak and profound meditation on diminishing faculties results in a shattering work of cinema. I was left shaking with the results, drawn in completely to the film’s shifts in tone and character, anchored throughout by Hopkin’s impeccable performance.

Thanks to some fantastic performances and a patient, well-crafted script, this is a film that should find international audiences interested in some truly adult storytelling. There’s enough originality and sophistication here that an English language redux wouldn’t be unheard of, making one hope that any translation maintains the craft and elegance of Sødahl’s presentation.

While the film as a whole is slightly haphazard, and the revelations are relatively few, there’s still a strong sense of engagement and excitement that illustrates better than most the thrill of discovery and the scope of what these humble rocks represent.

It manages in a concise and remarkable way to illustrate not only the ravages of this new virus but how its effects continue to resonate no matter the political forces looking to downplay its risks.

Falling fails hard, unable to generate sympathy for its protagonists and relying entirely on the charms of its writer/director to sustain interest. It’s a shame, as Mortensen’s a fine performer with a strong legacy, but the film feels like the worst kind of passion project, one that forgot to bring the audience in for what amounts to a film more masturbatory than moving.

Sullen, sarcastic, silly and seductive at various times, the film manages to walk a high-wire act of tone, making the act of mourning the least miserable part of the family gathering.

The scares are more textural than truly creepy, and they’re certainly overshadowed by what’s primarily a character piece, with each person’s fears and anxieties literally manifesting as part of the storyline.

No other artform could quite present such a collision of time, place, idea and emotion, and it’s clear that Nolan’s pure intent is to give us the utmost of what this medium can uniquely provide. At its best this is a ride that manages to be viscerally thrilling while still being emotionally and intellectually engaging, all in ways that are truly, uniquely cinematic. In other words, say what you will about the tenets of Tenet, at least it has an ethos.

This is an intimate film with grand ideas, a small boat floating on a giant ocean, and the extraordinary discovery at the heart of the narrative is outweighed by the sense as a filmgoer that we’re seeing a talented director coming to the surface, sticking her tendrils in, and reshaping our expectations as we’re taken along for the journey.