Nikola Grozdanovic

While it makes its point half-way into its running time and you start getting the anxious jitters of a film that overstays its welcome, A Ciambra serves the fundamental cinematic purpose of transporting you to another world.

Amalric puts all of the esoteric artistic tendencies that are part and parcel of the creative process into “Barbara” and comes up with an incoherent mess of a docu-drama. The entire film feels like a playful experiment that never evolves beyond a concept, like an unlit cigarette, never getting the spark it needs to fulfill its purpose.

This outer space oddity is destined for the cult-classic section of some future camp horror and sci-fi B-movie aisle.

It’s one of the director’s worst films, if not the worst.

It’s all fun and games and one big, great joke as we watch the cantankerous Jean-Luc dismiss his admirers and spit on contemporary cinema, but it’s hard to praise Redoubtable as a great film once its final act comes around

As visually arresting as Kornél Mundruczó’s latest film Jupiter’s Moon undoubtedly is, it remains too intellectually imprisoned within its own allegorical confines to make a truly positive impact.

As an austere and darkly comic family drama, and a scathing commentary about the kind of world our children are living in, Happy End is stunning cinema

Sadly, the core of ‘Fade’ is essentially banal, and the narrative is too blunt and inert to make any kind of lasting impression.

The cinematic trickery on display – lurid dissolves, off-kilter juxtapositions, and bizarre dance numbers bouncing around Chloe’s brittle mindscape – compensates for the skin-deep thematics, and keep the rhythm of the film popping.

In systematic and cinematically dazzling fashion, Loznitsa’s nihilistic riff will drag you to a circle of hell that makes Dante’s “Inferno” look like a love sonnet, and you’ll walk out of the film feeling woozy, defeated and utterly destroyed, in that order.

The film delves deep into the soul of a fundamentally important cause, with a slice-of-life look at a time in history that feels incredible urgent in today’s torn-up world.

Infidelity has long been one of Hong’s central subjects, but The Day After might just be his greatest film about the ails of mixing business with pleasure.

This is an exquisitely shot suburban tale of trauma, stretching the “show-don’t-tell” golden rule of filmmaking to the furthest reaches.

By pointing their camera at the Red Mosque, Trivedi and Naqvi add surprisingly little to the conversation.

As aesthetically dazzling as this picture is, with hypnotic compositions carved through meticulous mise-en-scene, there are certain conventional lines which — when crossed — must warrant good reason. In this case, the activity on the screen must be immersive and interesting enough to balance out the physical endurance asked of the viewer by the creator.

Haemoo is a picture worth seeing for its thrills, scrupulous tension-building and mischievous genre twists that will have you gasping one second, and laughing the next.

The film is a bullet train of laughs, gore, frights and folklore, making the two-and-a-half hour runtime feel like a couple of minutes. Blink and you might miss the whole thing.

Once it ends, you may be panting from exhaustion while still appreciating that Endless Poetry is greater than the sum of its parts as it feels naturally necessary and appropriately organic to the series.

Fumbling between broad comedic strokes you’d find in a Disney film and the kind of darkness that usually creeps out of heavy Danish dramas, “Two Lovers And A Bear” is tonally off-kilter on top of failing to engage on any deeper level.

From the performances to the repetitive jokes and bizarre actions that have little bearing on anything, Slack Bay exhausts you with its intense spirit.

Laura Poitras has done it again. Much like the celebrated Edward Snowden documentary Citizenfour, “Risk” is instilled with a sense of immediate urgency as an apprehensive cloud hovers over every action, every word, every wayward glance.

It’s, all told, a preposterous and pretentious mess of a film, and all the good intentions in the world don’t mean anything when the execution is as ham-fisted as it is here.

Purposefully joyless and bereft of any kind of aesthetic gratification other than the one found in Mendoza’s use of cinema verite and non-sentimental approach, Ma’ Rosa is tough-as-nails, and leaves you with a heaviness and a pulsating sympathy that’s impossible to ignore.

The biggest lesson to take away from I, Daniel Blake is how a movie doesn’t have to be psychologically complex or cinematically dazzling to dig beyond its surface. It’s rudimentary in terms of technique, but how the film generates its power is through the themes of humanity and kindness at its center.

Even if you don’t agree with Jarmusch’s introductory claim that The Stooges are the greatest rock and roll band ever, there’s still a lot of pleasure to be gleaned from Gimme Danger; most of it coming from Iggy’s love of the band, the music, and inability to be anyone but his incomparable and uncompromising self.

Your time would be better spent staring at a postcard for two hours. No, not even the presence of the usually magnetic Marion Cotillard will stave off the boredom of Garcia and Jacques Fieschi‘s screenplay.

Hell or High Water might walk over familiar ground with second-hand boots in terms of character development and structural beats, but it does so with great personality and zero pretension of wanting to be anything more.

The BFG exceeds expectations thanks to Rylance’s performance, and joyously expounds the essence of a cherished children’s tale in all of its imaginative glory.

With a bare minimum amount of suspense, and a screenplay that needs too much work for one that has so many long stretches of silence, this film leaves you with too many reasons not to care about it.

It’s a profoundly vague piece of filmmaking that hides an undeniable magnetism beneath its bare-boned narrative.

The documentary struggles to remain relevant throughout its short run time, and wobbles between glorification and reflection until it completely tilts over.

There's a tangible sensitivity to Kate Plays Christine that is constantly present as the project explores two personas and a gamut of topics (gender politics, gun control, and depression among them).

There's vision here, clearly, and through the use of eye-catching frames and a standout score, "The Fits" works like magic as an experimental performance piece. As an engaging work of well-rounded cinema, however, there are more than a few missteps.

Elemental in construct and narrative, the picture breathes through the screen during Theeb's moments of quiet reflection at his surroundings and all the cruelty the vast, all-encompassing desert has to offer.

Steeped in a culture rarely observed on screen, Bustamante's film has the airs of a documentary. Its ensemble cast of local actors have zero trace of affectation in their performances.

Too many times, Trash asks the audience to trust its characters and their words unconditionally by throwing around terms like "change," "hope," and "rights" with no basis whatsoever.

Under The Influence is ultimately much more of a listening pleasure than a viewing one. Neville's by-the-book direction makes sure of that. That said, Richards is an undeniably magnetic force of nature that keeps the attention span reined in for the swift 80-minute runtime.

Relentlessly paced, with the volatile ferocity of a rabid pitbull, Schneider vs. Bax is, above all else, pretty damn funny. That's if you're into Alex van Warmerdam's distinctive brand of humor.

Buried underneath the glop are interesting notions on reality, creation, and the nature of death. And thanks to its aesthetic, it's at least a very beautiful catastrophe.

Thanks to deplorable direction by Paco Cabezas, and a childishly broad screenplay by Max Landis, Mr. Right ends up all wrong.

With his monumental control of the camera —at times staying with characters during quiet moments of anticipation, at others panning slowly 360 degrees to envelop us in the entirety of the environment— Davies directs the most refined coming-of-age story cinema has seen in recent years.

Cloaked in a mystifying atmosphere and possessed by a transfixing, amorphous mood, Lucile Hadzihalilovic's Evolution is a beautifully strange hybrid of innocence and disturbance.

The force of originality felt in the narrative is only matched by Bellocchio's execution.

The film's MVPs are Bryan Cranston's dedicated performance as the title character, and, appropriately, John McNamara's jocular screenplay, with a terrific ensemble of supporters also along for the ride back to Hollywood's notorious past

A couple of exhilarating cycling scenes, and a pretty solid lead performance, does not a good movie make.

A dysfunctional structure and some bizarre plotting stop the film from reaching greatness, but never from being endearingly satisfying.

Trying something different and playing around with convention is always commendable, but if The Reflektor Tapes proves anything, it's that the result can sometimes fail miserably.

It has all the makings for Green to find that sweet-spot between drama and comedy, and make something special. Instead, we're left with something exasperatingly bland and almost claustrophobically generic.

It’s a narrative vacuum big enough to make you mad at this melancholy werewolf drama for not being, at the very least, good.

Ultimately, the main source of power behind The Second Mother is found in its effortless skips between character study, family drama, and silent socioeconomic warfare. The final result is a gleaming cinematic treasure as heartwarming as the film's final reassuring smile.

It's a wonderful thing to experience a film unshackled from Hollywood conventionality and unburdened by the necessity for simplistic storytelling.

Cary Bell’s Butterfly Girl is no reality TV show segment, it’s painstaking reality itself, told in confident style.

The silent scenes, which hold so much power in the first act, feel emptier and emptier, as the conclusion nears. Moments where Halpern’s score felt like it was adding to what was on screen, turn to moments where it’s compensating for the lack of interest.

Hayek's passion project is a stimulating success for the senses.

The Kindergarten Teacher is too lackadaisical in its execution to be as profound as it thinks it is.

Without the performances and splash of style as support, the film would collapse, because the story is indisputably boxed inside a square of standard dimensions.

It’s a love story set in a contemporary world brimming with immigration issues, but it manages to be neither political drama, nor bubbly romance, somehow getting away with being labeled as a comedy.

Despite the valiant efforts from the two leads, the only thing of value that gets robbed in American Heist is our time.

Twinsters is an enjoyable ride, made with vigorous love and creativity, which is more than enough reason to recommend it. Especially to siblings.

Two actors. Two locations. Two laptops. One bittersweet movie.

This is Brando on Brando, and it's scintillating stuff.

John McNaughton’s return after too many years of absence is a dark look at the nature of overprotective parenthood, and how volatile it can become under particularly difficult circumstances. With that said, you’d do well not to take The Harvest too seriously but more, like its deliciously simple and 70s B-movie horror title suggests, as a wickedly fun time.

Katz, with the help of an inspired cast and an emotionally intelligent and mature screenplay, has succeeded in depicting the trials and tribulations of adults who, all for respectfully different yet equally weighty reasons, often make a three-year-old the most mature person in the room.

Dior And I succeeds in bringing this exclusive world down to earth, knitting the viewer with its needles and threads and making a highly relatable story, no matter where you come from or how you feel about fashion.

Though Manos Sucias, like the compelling local songs used to supplement the melancholic mood, often feels like fragments of a picture glued together by a temporary adhesive, the experience will leave you believing that you've just witnessed something very real and, even with its all-too-short running time, still manages to pack quite a punch.

What makes Amour Fou a fascinating, if at times frustratingly idle experience, is that it seems to be saying so much with its upfront style, injections of black humor, and focus on stifled feminine disposition, yet still feels disappointingly unresponsive when mulling it over in your head.

Uninspired films utilizing cinematic devices that felt old decades ago are a regrettable part of the cinematic viewing experience, and The Forger squarely falls into this category.

None of this would be as funny if it was done by anyone other than Wiig, who has never been funnier. Her crass, narcissistic, capricious Alice is her greatest creation.

Thanks to a few exemplary moments of monumental acting from Hoffman, truly harmonious singing from the boys, and a graceful score by Brian Byrne, Boychoir is, at its best, a comfortable viewing and listening pleasure.

Once it becomes clear that this is no mere murder mystery, and the bizarre turns into the ludicrous and into the depraved, Dumont’s analysis of life’s toughest questions (reaching for an understanding of the very essence of evil) as told through the simplest of ways becomes tremendously captivating. And it’s worth noting, again, just how laugh-out-loud funny this is.

If it were funnier, perhaps the trite action and insipid characters could be excused, but it isn’t nearly funny enough for that.

It’s a searing series of accounts from dignified patriots, weary politicians, and desperate civilians stuck in a frantic situation, and a remarkable piece of work that should be seen by everyone who thinks they know everything about the Vietnam War.

As compelling as R100 is in spurts, it's ultimately an exercise in excessiveness that only a niche audience will be able to fully stomach.

This is a film that should, at the very least, make one appreciate the all-encompassing breadth of cinema, and, at most, provoke deeper thought of transcendental existence in correlation with nature and The Idea of Man.

If you have the patience to play the role of silent witness for the full two hours, Maidan is a rewarding experience and an alarmingly important wake-up call for those still in the dark about one of today's most critical situations.

Ullmann’s version of Miss Julie exists in a special cinematic category; it’s toxic, it’s hypnotic, and passionately translates Strindberg’s genius instinct for enlightening the multi-layered psychological spectrums of human desire for lust and power. It’s unforgettable in every sense of the word.

Tremendously evocative and inherently enchanting, Horse Money is one of the year’s most profound films and an essential step forward for both Ventura the Cape Verdean, and Pedro Costa the artist.

With her underdeveloped, dismissive, screenplay and myopic direction, Rondòn is as delicate with her theme as Michael Bay is with his American flag shots or Tim Burton with his kitschy quirkiness. That hers is a serious context makes it that much more disappointing.

While zooming in and out of Burre’s life, Greene foregoes true insight in favor of a stylistic approach, using the kind of cinematic language that’s often reserved for fiction and feature films, and the result leaves you admiring Actress greatly, but from a distance.

Loo and Lau’s Dragons is too busy reveling in tilted angles, music video editing, mind-numbingly clichéd dialogue, wooden acting and a one-dimensional story about brotherhood.

Camp X-Ray is as transparent in its message as the title suggests, and the scan shows a malignant tumor in the very bones of the film’s structure. An on-the-nose approach smothers all subtext into submission and leaves nothing of interest alive.

While the execution may be somewhat of a misfire, the obvious effort and thought put into making the concept work is worthy.

You’ll walk away almost certain that you’ve seen a decent thriller, but your thoughts may stumble on the word “thrill.”

The film is a boilerplate biopic, but with stunning cinematography and a couple of fierce performances, The Theory of Everything is nothing if not an accomplished and emotional work of cinema.

All of that star-making and directorial grace Scherfig possesses is substituted for a bludgeoning attempt at provoking the British elite into taking a long hard look at themselves through a cracked mirror. She retains her confrontational sensibilities with none of the subtlety, and hammers a single message to mind-numbing effect.

Petzold distills a familiar atmosphere to create a work veiled in vibrant, cohesive, sensitively stimulating power.

Some intriguing dialogue, and a closet full of fantastic frocks, can’t help an impressive ensemble cast save A Little Chaos from being a lackadaisical picture, far removed from anything remotely exciting as chaos.

With a unique blend of style and content, an escalating discomfort in atmosphere, a score that sounds like it was spawned from the nether regions of hell, and three ferocious performances, Hungry Hearts is this year’s most unique horror film.

This isn’t a story of success and fortune, but a slice of life with a personal rhythm and a universal beat.

A work of immense and intense emotional vigor, sprinkled with fun-loving traits and intellectually stimulating prowess, The Duke of Burgundy is the stuff dreams are made of.

There are moments when the fabrication behind Claire’s arc breaks to reveal a real person, and the filmmaker’s have Aniston to thank for this, because it’s certainly not the bland dialogue or unremarkable events.

As far as the spy genre goes, Pierce Brosnan’s The November Man is more filler than thriller.

The theories in Level Five simultaneously thrive in realms of computer science, ethnography, and cognitive psychology, while the picture remains cloaked by the emotional weight of a historical tragedy that marked an entire nation.

Metro Manila is a horror story in its own unflinching way.

So the story is relentlessly rudimentary and it’s directed in an expected, uncomplicated, formulaic manner.

By the time the curtains draw to a bittersweet close, you’ll walk out feeling rejuvenated, satisfied, well replenished in humor and culture, and already planning your own trip to Italy.

It’s a finely tuned and tenderly detailed love story of two people told on a cosmic scale.

This is advertisement masquerading as a story, pretending to be a movie, but at the very least, it’s for a good cause.