William Repass

More than effective in visualizing its protagonist’s disorientated state of mind, the camerawork may leave viewers feeling like they just stepped off of a merry-go-round.

Christopher Smith’s film applies the haunted house trope in unfamiliar ways.

The film goes to show that humanism and absurdism are often two expressions of the same face.

Offering visceral immediacy over meticulous construction, Padre Pio bristles with arresting images.

Beneath its perfectly entertaining surface, the film is a mess of contradictions that fails to live up to its own potential.

The film raises pertinent questions about Mexico’s mixed cultural heritage and the contested representation of reality.

Mariam Ghani’s documentary spurs audiences to consider the politics that underlies any artistic activity.

Writer-director Kiro Rosso’s sociological, pseudo-documentary film suggests a mosaic resolving out of innumerable shards.

Consisting largely of long takes sans music or commentary, the film uncovers the paradox that trash, so apparently devoid of meaning or use-value, needs little commentary.

The film’s naïve utopianism is infectious, demanding that we live as though life were worth it in spite of all evidence to the contrary.

Whereas films like Halloween and Blue Velvet expose the violence and perversion that underlies the manicured artifice of so many suburban environs, Happer’s Comet, by means of a simple temporal displacement, gestures above all at their arbitrariness.

The film proposes that, in the search for viable alternatives to techno-fascism and climate apocalypse, we might look to the margins of our world, to unfulfilled experiments (including those of cinema) and cultures supposedly left behind by history.

Matías Piñeiro’s film is an intimate, impressionistic meditation on love and desire, death and memory, silence and expression.

The film reveals—and urges on—a historical shift in how we relate to other living beings.