Zhuo-Ning Su

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.

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.

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.

It’s tonally and thematically so fragmented, the context simply isn’t there.

The genius and creative dexterity of Maoz are on full display here.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

The most crucial thing that Ozon’s film gets right are the moral, indeed philosophical considerations that build its central character.

Designed and choreographed with stupendous pizzazz, it’s an explosion of colors, noises, and murderous zest that floods the senses, reminding you in a (skipped) heartbeat how frightfully entertaining these supposedly artless horror flicks can be.

Cunningly ambivalent and stickily atmospheric, Neon Bull is an impressive exercise in style that further broadens the possibility of queer filmmaking. One only wishes it could have embedded such daring and verve in a more fully realized context.

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.

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.

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

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.

Clear-eyed, tightly wound, and cinematically and psychologically immersive, it’s a furious ride of a movie that actually has something to say.

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.

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.

Through it all, Vigas’ writing remains non-judgmental and keenly observant. He doesn’t attempt to explain everything with words, but the raw honesty of his voice compels every step along the way.

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.

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.

It’s true that none of this is particularly groundbreaking and that, as hinted above, the limitations of a biographical film are still palpable towards the end, but the pure, visceral satisfaction of seeing an exciting story expertly told cannot be denied either.

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.

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.

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.

For Tsai’s numbered but avid fans everywhere, it offers a highly informative, almost voyeuristic peek behind the creation of such masterpieces of urban loneliness as Vive L’Amour or Stray Dogs.