Katie Rife

Pretty darn entertaining.

It’s impressive to see such sophisticated camera work from a newcomer. But to combine that with experimental narrative and sound techniques, and place it in a detailed mid-century modern environment, and to have all these ambitious gambits (mostly) work, all on an independent film budget...well, it’s quite the feat.

Mazzei’s script and Goldhaber’s direction complement each other beautifully, with true-to-life details like the tacky dollar-store carpet that decorates Alice’s camming room and the pink taser she keeps in her car playing off of—and enhancing—the naturalistic dialogue.

Although Stanfield and Kaluuya offer up two compelling—and contrasting—performances, Judas And The Black Messiah is an ensemble piece with no weak links, only secret weapons.

Although The Endless works just fine as a standalone film, looking at it in the wider context of Benson and Moorhead’s work highlights another, more meta theme: the desire to return to an earlier, simpler period in one’s life, and relive those glory days forever.

Pillion is a film about self-knowledge, and about asserting one’s needs and boundaries without shame.

The style of humor in Shiva Baby can best be described as “sex-positive cringe,” in which the secondhand embarrassment comes less from the sexual situations themselves than our heroine’s collision with polite, conservative society.

Combined with realistically messy family dynamics and expert turns from the ensemble cast — particularly Nevin, whose performance forges boldly into challenging territory — the result is powerful, if a style of horror audiences have grown used to in a post-A24 world.

Mocked by her peers, mistreated by her husband, and burdened by mental illness, Jackson lived with the psychic evils that lurk in her writing. But for Decker, what’s important about Shirley’s misery is how she used it to fuel her work.

This is Tarantino’s Eden, the unspoiled garden when the things he loves don’t have to be sought out or championed because they permeate every aspect of life. The sense of blissful immersion extends to the film’s costuming and production design, both of which are as meticulous as one might expect.

While the film is kinetic, colorful, and frantically paced, it’s also not quite as outrageous as Miike’s gonzo ‘90s yakuza movies.

At its heart, Dead Talents Society is an affectionate ode to East Asian horror cinema, and its earnestness — and silliness — are key to its appeal.

A sense of play and joyful collaboration permeates Leonor Will Never Die, even as it engages with serious issues of life, death, and legacy. It reminds us that love, like creativity, is a living thing, and that both are meant to be shared.

This is a relentlessly grim film with an unsettling view of human nature; its audience will be small and self-selecting, but those who like having their guts ripped out by a movie will leave the theater satisfied.

Subtle and intuitive, this documentary about NYC psychics asks all the right questions.

A rousing, spectacle-filled blockbuster, Godzilla: Minus One takes the king of the monsters back to his roots in post-WWII Japan. The story is character-driven, but the monster scenes are exciting and effective.

Nicolas Cage plays a mediocre stand-in for all 'canceled' men in this provocative cringe comedy, driven by a sharp screenplay and subtly surreal filmmaking.

Weaving’s expressive face and boundless energy make her a compelling heroine, and her will to survive is unstoppable.

Love Lies Bleeding combines intense lesbian sexuality with shocking, graphic violence for a film that really gets the blood pumping. Kristen Stewart embodies her dirtbag character with the jumpy physicality she does so well, and her chemistry with co-star Katy O’Brian is powerful. The film loses focus as it escalates to hysterical heights in its second half, but its pulpy, fetishistic pleasures are potent.

In an age where corporate IP has become a de facto religion in global cinema culture, The People’s Joker is a blasphemous Molotov cocktail of a movie, with a unique and valuable point of view. And it’s hilarious, too.

In spite of the dystopian premise, Kosinski brings a light touch to Spiderhead. Colorful cinematography and spirited editing contrast with the characters’ tragic backstories and bleak living conditions, and highlight the disparity between the chemically induced highs and nightmarish lows of Abnesti’s experiments.

Del Toro’s love for the grotesque and the abject is sincere and passionate, and there are scenes in Frankenstein that play like thesis statements for the director’s entire career.

Pop Aye is a standard, if well-made, indie road trip dramedy. But, you know, with an elephant.

Overall, this is a sophisticated take on over-the-top material, arch but not quite Serial Mom-style campy.

Equally importantly, it shows how much an artist like Mu’min can bring to otherwise well-trod material, and how valuable underrepresented points of view like hers really are.

It’s a little corny at times, but it looks good and has heart—and, let’s be honest, Black cowboys are pretty damn cool.

The film is arguably too long, with a mushy middle section that slows the momentum of its savage first third. But Pike’s performance remains sharp as her character’s blonde bob throughout, and the pleasures of watching her and Dinklage face off are significant.

The film is so self-aware, in fact, that it raises questions about which of its flaws are intentional and which are, well, flaws. The filmmaking here is as polished as one might expect from a Hollywood crowd-pleaser, well lit and only occasionally showy in terms of its camerawork. And the combat and car-crash stunts are great — they better be, given the subject matter.