Wes Greene

The Nature of Love engages with the stylings and bubbly tonality of the classic rom-com in ironic fashion, along the way exploring complex aspects of human behavior.

Ironically for a film that unfolds almost entirely in a single, contained location, The Seeding is all over the place.

Via the film’s juxtaposition between footage of Jones performing in front of fawning crowds with the dark personal stories of those who knew him best, Nick Broomfield bitingly undercuts the rock star’s veneer of public adoration.

Seemingly channeling the spirit of Claude Chabrol, Antoine Barraud’s Madeleine Collins is a decidedly classy throwback thriller about a seemingly humdrum character committing perverse acts of subterfuge against others.

The elegantly underplayed performances ensure that the film never succumbs to melodrama.

The filmmakers never effectively detail the characters’ relation to the various cultural, psychological, or historical intricacies of their milieu.

The film’s triumph is keeping us on our toes by sending us into an ether where fear and wonder live hand in hand.

The inadvertent effect of the oppressive, almost overbearing gloom that shrouds Falcon Lake is that it manages to sap the life out of its initially carefree depiction of young people’s emotional lives.

Monica is an unsentimental exploration of its main character’s search for personal fulfillment through human connection.

The film surprises by revealing deeper layers to both its subjects and social commentary.

Sansón and Me has a way of frustratingly pulling focus away from its ostensible subject.

The film is a sensitive character study disguised as an unnerving exercise in body horror.

The film’s depiction of the fear and uncertainty of motherhood gives in to monotony.

For as potent as the film’s shocks can be in the moment, it’s difficult to shake off that the screenplay lacks for the breadth of variety that’s necessary to make more than just a restaurant’s tasting menu take flight.

In simplistic and self-congratulatory fashion, the film renders its main character as a sort of feminist crusader who undermines the sexist traditions of her time.

The film may not suffer from didacticism, but it’s at its most volcanic when it promises to blossom into a study of a generation’s financial difficulties.

David Leitch’s film pulls off the notable feat of making human beings out of cartoonishly violent psychopaths.

The film’s ominous atmosphere derives less from the mystery of a disappearance and more from the scary business of getting older.

The film abounds in honest and at times disarmingly off-the-cuff moments that are borne out of character contrasts.

The film loses its satiric edge as it begins to melodramatically detail how Maurice Flitcroft inherited the mantle of folk hero.

Despite the mystery of the home invasion becoming increasingly tangential, Human Factors remains a compelling puzzle-box.

The Innocents adopts a slasher-esque vibe that, however airlessly aestheticized, feels lurid for the sake of being lurid.

The film is at its most effective and engaging when simply capturing the vibrancy of a world onto its own.

Not only does Infinite Storm lack for a complete vision, it’s all too comfortable in settling for mawkishness.

Formally, Huda’s Salon is nothing if not effective, sustaining the unrelenting tension of its opening scene for the duration of its runtime.

Dog cannily smuggles a nuanced inquiry of a social issue under the guise of popular entertainment.

Throughout Last Looks, the filmmakers tend to a conventional mystery that could have benefited from more satiric intention.

The film’s quietly uncanny narrative wondrously depicts not only a dying man’s reflection on his life, but also the very nature of Hawaii itself.