Sara Clements

It serves as both an exploration of the law and a powerful tribute to a mother, a woman, and a human life tragically cut short.

A beautifully crafted documentary that’s a celebration of the profound ways in which women like Sara Shahverdi can – and do – change the world around them.

In the end, Boys Go to Jupiter may not fully stick the landing, but it’s a bold, vibrant, and unmistakably personal work of animated cinema. It won’t be for everyone, but like any great piece of outsider art, it doesn’t try to be. Glander has created something strange and resonant, a lo-fi lullaby for the anxious and overworked who just want to be a kid again.

A coming-of-age film that feels surprisingly original. It's hilarious and charming and features fantastic performances. Everett Blunck is a brilliant new talent to keep an eye on.

Dragonfly could have been a gem to watch with a cup of tea on a rainy day. It has brilliantly nuanced performances and a heartwarming tone, but it doesn’t seem to trust the quiet power of its story. Instead, it’s ultimately undone by a clumsy, horrific final act. It’s a film that needed more faith in its own heart.

Stephanie Ahn offers an evocative portrait of the immigrant experience, moving beyond surface observation to investigate the visceral, internal world of children raised in the crosshairs of cultural expectation and personal identity.

The film is well written enough to capture the pain of everyone involved and to understand their perspectives. The film also features great camerawork, with close-ups that make the entire experience feel claustrophobic, especially when people make Jimmy doubt himself.

Unidentified uses the familiar framework of a murder mystery to tell a deeply political story about autonomy, visibility, and the high cost of speaking up. Even when the plot stumbles, the message never does.

Even in a flawed film like this, the action remains inventive.

It’s a fitting end to the Warrens’ cinematic journey and a graceful farewell to a franchise that gave us more than we ever expected.

It wants to speak to the hauntings of history, the burden of Black inheritance, and the strange ways guilt manifests. But the film’s ambition often outpaces its clarity. At its best, it captures the surreal pain of being tethered to a past you never asked for. At its worst, it’s a philosophical fog.

Despite its flaws, the cast, while underused, is a powerhouse, especially Knightley, who remains magnetic. It’s just that “The Woman in Cabin 10” never manages to transcend its setup.

L’Aventura is sometimes a messy, repetitive, and frustrating watch. But that may be the point. It tests your patience like a real vacation can, which makes it feel uncannily familiar.

While the film’s messaging isn’t always perfectly nailed down, it remains a powerful exploration of the terrifying fact that we are the architects of our own reality. It is a strong debut that proves Jessica Rothe should be in more things, anchoring a film that is gripping and unsettling.