Zhuo-Ning Su

If there’s still any doubt that this is a Lanthimos joint, the final montage to wrap up the unpredictable misadventure observes our world with such loving, bleak honesty it can hardly be mistaken for anyone else.

The style-substance ratio here is still not ideal, but the film offers enough of both for an appealing, intellectually, and emotionally tickling experience.

This up-tempo comedic murder mystery is a breezy, fun means of showcasing delicious chemistry between legendary actors.

With The Mysterious Gaze of the Flamingo, Céspedes has proven both the skills to assemble a film and an understanding of his story’s significance––you can feel the hot-blooded indignation behind every frame.

Narratively and stylistically chameleonic, it’s a sci-fi-flavored, century-spanning cinematic collage and profound invitation to dream. Bi Hive, rejoice: this is Palme material.

There’s no question that this sweet, nostalgia-laced ode to life in the countryside has its heart in the right place, but a lack of nuance and creative risk-taking greatly hampered the delivery of its message.

If anything, it suffers from being a bit too lightweight and gives a somewhat unfocused impression initially, until a beautiful third act reveals the mystery and pain of a boy seeking his place in the world.

Lighton has made a truly provocative anti-romance that’s funny, honest, strangely touching. It’s an exceptional balance act that makes Pillion the unlikeliest crowd-pleaser.

This highly experimental, deeply unsettling tale about the fates of women and their echoes down history plays like a psychosexual fever dream of epic scope. While it will confound and upset plenty, hardcore cinephiles can mark this down as their next film to obsess over. It’s quite a feast.

Long movies are not necessarily good or even ambitious; Trenque Lauquen is both. Notwithstanding a few minutes that could be shed here and there, everything from its sweet, intriguing Part I, the strategically placed and electrifying title sequence, and deliciously ominous Part II feel purposeful, organic.

Long movies are not necessarily good or even ambitious; Trenque Lauquen is both. Notwithstanding a few minutes that could be shed here and there, everything from its sweet, intriguing Part I, the strategically placed and electrifying title sequence, and deliciously ominous Part II feel purposeful, organic.

Rheingold is a smooth watch that coasts on the fun, eclectic nature of its source material. If this may not be the return to form for a Cannes- and Berlin-winning filmmaker some anticipated, it’s a rousing good time nonetheless.

Great Freedom asks a lot of its viewer and offers no rousing Hollywood ending. It’s not a film you see on a whim, but lovers of truthful, humanistic cinema should take note. This one is the real deal, surely to be given a chance. Or two.

While often amusing, Belfast‘s script only succeeds on an anecdotal level. It’s a string of well-written moments that don’t necessarily add up to tell a good story.

If there’s one complaint to be made about the tender and wise Suk Suk, it’s that it could actually benefit from going a bit longer. The film leaves us in a semi-cliffhanger, which is effective and evocative in its own right. But I think in this instance the great character development warrants a next step, and audiences probably wouldn’t mind spending some minutes more with their new favorite guncles.

Even at its least convincing, The Road to Mandalay is a film firmly grounded in humanity and the many unpleasant truths about our world. Neither topically nor technically does it aim for the populist or fantastical.

Both Pellerin and Abita are tremendous, each fiercely charismatic in a way that doesn’t compromise the vulnerability of their characters.

Unmissable for anyone craving the gritty realism and independent spirit of pre-00’s Chinese cinema. Fair warning: this is decidedly not the feel-good movie of the year.

There’s no denying the level of craft and performance involved that probes human depravity so compellingly, you’re left with much more than just rattled nerves and a taste of bile.

Holland keeps things going at a reasonable pace but, caught by a TV-esque practical blandness, seldom achieves something distinctly cinematic in terms of scale or style.

On Body and Soul seduces, distracts, intrigues, but ultimately doesn’t pack the visceral, spiritual impact that one might expect.

An overlong mid-section stagnates after the novelty of the premise wears off, but a couple of plot twists late in the game raise the stakes again and Xiaogang Feng, with his signature dry humor and newfound creative juices, hits too many marks on this one for it to disappoint.

Crosscurrent represents quite a remarkable blunder considering how much effort and noble aspirations go to waste because its maker forgot to tell a good story first.

It’s a heady hall of mirrors that keeps revealing, or at least suggesting new depths and angles. But while this kind of intense creative exercise no doubt deserves respect, ultimately one has the uneasy sense that things don’t really add up.

How Kim and his formidable technical team compose, frame and edit what could have been the most ordinary of shootouts to instantly, violently communicate peril shows not just unmistakable filmmaking prowess but a delightful, connoisseuristic appreciation of the game.

Unhurried, mood-driven, pregnant with a transcendent reflection on life and death, The Assassin is a singular vision realized with absolute mastery of style and a lightness of touch that’s to die for.

Considering it tells such a singular and important story, one only wishes The Danish Girl could have been made with a lot more edge and not the usual Academy-friendly faux-progressiveness.

Realized with extraordinary craft and verve even if insufficiently contextualized, A Bigger Splash might not have achieved the desired impact, but the wicked spell it casts remains a bona-fide stunner.