Orla Smith

I appreciated Superior’s exploration of two characters who have crafted their identity as a reflection of other people (heightened by the fact that Marian and Vivian are literally mirror images of each other). But these ideas remain relatively surface level, and they aren’t paid off in the bungled final act.

Memory Box is at its strongest in its first half, when Alex steals objects from the box that she’s been forbidden to look at, and her imaginings about her mother’s youth are visualized on screen through mixed media animation.

It’s tempting to blame the broadness of Materna on the short runtimes of each segment, Gutnik and his screenwriters having little time to establish and explore each character’s identity.

No Ordinary Man is ultimately a melancholy look at how far things have or have not come for trans people since Billy Tipton’s death.

With a more patient script that’s richer in character detail, Scales could have been breathtaking. As it stands, it’s a slight visual feast.

What we get is a lot of good material presented in a rather straightforward manner.

What might not be apparent yet from my description of this explicitly political, nuanced, and angry film is that The Perfect Candidate is also a lot of fun. This is that rare, miraculous thing: a political crowdpleaser that doesn’t sand off its edges in an effort to be palatable.

While the gloss of studio thrillers allow enough distance that we can sit back and be entertained by what’s on screen, Profile’s desktop setting makes Amy’s situation all the more immediate, because it feels so authentic. The film is proof that ScreenLife isn’t just a gimmick, but a cinematic tool we ought to be taking seriously.

More than a romance, or a fairy tale about sentient security cameras, What Do We See When We Look at the Sky? is an ode to living in the moment and finding beauty in the familiar. It’s an endurance test of a film, but one rich with detail, if you have the patience to look for it.

Petite Maman is, amongst other things, a beautiful ode to mother-daughter love and a melancholy acknowledgment of the distance that always exists in that relationship, when both parties are separated by age and responsibility.

Despite Gashi’s strong, stoic performance, it feels like the film is more interested in inspiring its audience than it is in gleaning insight into Fahrije’s psychology.

Simply because you have an idea that could be a film, that doesn’t mean that it should be a film; that’s a mantra that should be considered long and hard by any filmmaker attempting to ‘modernize’ Shakespeare. R#J stands as a warning of how wrong it can go when you try.

Malcolm & Marie is surprisingly accomplished given the speed and unprecedented circumstances under which it was produced, although I can’t help but imagine how a few extra weeks—or months—of development on the script could have elevated it. The central relationship, which is so compelling in the moment, suffers from a lack of context.

The lynchpin that holds I Blame Society together is Wallace Horvat, not just with her writing and direction, but with her deadpan performance.

Possessor Uncut indeed looks beautiful––in a fucked up kind of way––but despite my visceral enjoyment of its visuals I couldn’t help but wonder what purpose they served.

Although Come Away purports to be a new take on old tales, it tediously goes through the motions of a story that’s been told a thousand times.

If it is possible to make a good David Bowie film without any David Bowie music—and without the blessing of Bowie’s family—then this certainly isn’t it.

We’ve seen this story from the husband’s point of view a million times, women like Jean relegated to the sidelines and rarely revisited once they’re sent away. It’s a welcome perspective shift; unfortunately, Hart’s slow burn doesn’t have enough fuel to grab your attention beyond an intriguing premise.

Great rom-coms can circumvent flaws if they deliver on the joy, the cosiness, and the chemistry, and DuVall’s film offers a generous helping of all three.

Ammonite will make you feel as if you’re right there in Lyme with Mary, sharing her loneliness and delighting in the small moments of joy she allows herself, all the while breathing in the crisp sea air.

One’s mileage may vary with Never Gonna Snow Again, depending on whether a rich and intriguing atmosphere alone can sustain your attention.