Ross McIndoe

Strange Darling is a cunningly devised thriller that wields our assumptions against us like a sharp implement, delighting in making us squirm.

While it isn’t an overt examination of it in the manner of The Moment, the film does feel like a natural cinematic extension of Charli XCX’s melancholy party-girl persona.

While it’s never didactic or heavy-handed about its messaging, Paddington in Peru also offers an idea of Britishness that’s multifaceted and modern.

40 Acres continually finds clever ways to either subvert familiar story beats or to make them land with extra impact.

The film effortlessly melds its sadcom properties with more predictable rom-com traditions.

Charles Williams’s feature-length directorial debut, Inside, centers on a trio of dangerous men who are forced into each other’s orbit, leading to an outcome that’s both violently chaotic and tragically predictable.

Even as the shotgun shells start flying, it makes time for the quiet dramatic moments that carry its family drama forward amid the carnage.

Like a well-executed heist, the film knows how to get in and get out with minimal fuss.

The film is an impressively complicated and compassionate drama about shame and desire.

The film is full of little moments that speak clearly to the particularities of father-son bonds.

The film has the ethereal feel of a half-remembered, mostly pleasant dream.

It’s a film of familiar pleasures, but like Harold Faltermeyer’s still infectiously enjoyable synth-pop theme, they do remain highly pleasurable.

When The Surfer does break out of the sun-addled fugue state that marks its midsection, it delivers a gonzo finale that lets Nicolas Cage rev himself up into his most manic, meme-able self.

The film is lean, mean, and feisty, even if it doesn’t quite stick the landing.

The nimble way that Rachel Sennott hops between the two versions of her character easily makes up for the odd narrative misstep that I Used to Be Funny makes along the way.

It has its very powerful moments, but the oddly linear, untroubled journey of its two main characters robs the film of some of its emotional authenticity.

While it never quite reaches the hilarious heights or existential depths of the Coens’ finest work, it does offer similarly enjoyable mixture of the macabre and the absurd.

McVeigh’s ominous atmosphere is omnipresent, clinging to Timothy like a dog to a bone.

Chevalier doesn’t match the revolutionary spirit of Joseph Bologne’s life, but there’s still a lot of enjoyment to be taken from seeing a towering figure, long forgotten by history, returned to his rightful place at center stage.

Nuisance Bear is at its most powerful when its message has been condensed down into a single image.

The camera, the cuts, the needle drops, and story twists all contribute to the feeling of a machine that’s spinning faster and faster until finally it careens right out of control.

Shot in the Scottish Highlands, Out of Darkness draws on the eerie atmosphere of a place that still feels ancient and steeped in mystery.

The film is far from original, but it successfully translates game logic to the big screen.

The film’s strength is that it knows how to keep things moving.

Like any good fighter film, Cassandro builds to the sort of incredible final bout that makes your hairs stand up and the rest of your body want to.

It might not be quite as incisive a piece of genre dismemberment as Wes Craven’s Scream or Drew Goddard’s Cabin in the Woods, but it has a lot of fun poking at the tricks and tropes of slasher movies all the same.

The first film was divided against itself—half a typically broad Paul Feig comedy, half imitation Gone Girl—and the sequel doesn’t fare much better as a genuine thriller.

The film is most interesting when observing the subtler power dynamics at play within frats.