Although not as strong as “Plan 75,” Hayakawa draws from her personal experiences to craft a deliberately paced, nostalgic story that warmly touches upon universal themes of grief, childhood imagination, and the bonds of family from this life and beyond.

Jude forces us into discomfort, looping cultural critique into grotesque comedy. If he intended to hold a mirror to the digital age’s self-destructive behaviors, sucking identity, myth, even creativity into an algorithmic blender, “Dracula” surely succeeds. It’s rattling, ridiculous, and in its own way, wholly necessary, though not always sustainable over its nearly three hours of absurdity.

While not quite at his satirical best, The Diary of a Chambermaid has a more muted tone that helps foreground the maturity of Jude’s form and continues the quieter tension he began exploring after the balls-to-the-wall “Dracula.” Not a story of unrest, but rather one of rest against the friction of your surroundings.

Powered by excellent performances from Sophie Okonedo and India Amarteifio, who convey the multitudes of a fascinating titular character, “Clarissa” shines as a unique perspective on Woolf and exemplifies the Esiri brothers’ compelling vision as filmmakers.

It’s short, but this is a well-made sports documentary that explores a complex figure with insight and candor. It’s also sufficiently well-balanced to ensure that there is something here for football fans and non-football fans alike.

It’s an respectful portrait that will captivate those interested in Avedon’s life.

Atonement is a powerful human drama about the often elusive nature of forgiveness.

Above all, it’s a sensitive piece of storytelling that reaches a place of hopefulness, not in light of the tough subject matter of war, but in spite of it.

It’s a brilliant concept for an historical film, but the way Marre tells his relatives’ unheroic story would’ve been better served by a more discerning eye on the film’s runtime.

It’s an honest, melancholy tale that pushes against the typical idea of the saintlike sufferer, instead portraying the central character as a credibly flawed individual. And just as he always does, Ira Sachs rejects stereotypes and expectations to deliver something that feels candidly close to life.

As a work of historical fiction, the film strikes a resonant chord. Bleak in its relevance today, it’s an intense watch made compelling by an extraordinary lead performance at the center.

Bitter Christmas falls into the category of Almodóvar films that feature the vibrant touchstones of his style, but lack the bite that makes you want to revisit the story and characters.

While Øvredal’s direction and the lead performances carry the film through any rough patches, it can get quite rough. Burgess and Donohue have plenty of great ideas, but don’t seem to have edited any of them, resulting in a story that can be frustrating.

All in all, Propeller One-Way Night Coach may be slightly more interesting from a meta perspective than a strictly cinematic one. Still, the sincerity that permeates every frame makes up for a lot of its shortcomings. It’s unlikely to cater to many people outside of Travolta’s most ardent fanbase, but even on those terms, it’s an enjoyable way to spend an hour in the sky.

The film seems disinterested in carrying on any discussion itself, even in an obtuse way. Perhaps that’s the idea: that we’re meant to completely project our assessment onto the film rather than follow nonexistent leads from Harari as to his intention. But ultimately, the film is too vacant, too aimless, and worst of all, too dull to inspire much worthwhile discussion.

Minotaur is another unmistakably political, bleak, and methodical work from one of our best storytellers.

Even though there are still endless possibilities to discuss the aftermath of these great conflicts spread throughout history, this one’s execution is too flawed to be entirely riveting, despite some components being still worthy of praise.

It’s a mean, nasty neo-giallo, filled with the genre’s standards: gorgeously odd visuals, colorful lighting, disparate performance qualities, questionable morals, and brutal moments of sudden violence. To those who are prepared for it and willing to go hand in hand with Refn on his colorful, nonsensical journey, it’s an adventure to be remembered, like a nightmare that leaves an indelible mark on the psyche.

What’s present here is one of the most visually horrid and banal “Star Wars” creations to date. Is the allure of getting children in a theater to see Grogu enough to keep this franchise afloat and, more importantly, on the big screen? Who’s to say, but if it’s any indication of what the next decade of storytelling for the “Star Wars” universe will be, then we’re in deep trouble.

It’s not an easy watch, intentionally so, but Herry delivers a shockingly buoyant, propulsive film about the perils and pitfalls of addiction.

Mungiu trusts the audience to arrive at their own conclusions as he casts the film out into dark, uncertain waters, with us unsure where exactly it is headed next, yet continuing forward all the same, much like people and society themselves, regardless of whether we are ready for it or not.

It all makes one wonder why any of the original team returned for a sequel that not only undoes some of the far more impactful emotional beats of the final season but also leaves audiences in limbo about whether they even want to see Jack Ryan suit up for another disaster to solve.

A non-stop spectacle unlike any other. I hoped it would be awesome, and somehow, against all odds, I’m ready for more.

Sorogoyen’s film meanders, and some of his visual flourishes are more puzzling than profound. Still, the two lead performances and one superb scene later in the film elevate the entire affair.

There are luminous glimmers of promise scattered throughout “Sheep in the Box,” and each speaks to a filmmaker of immense creativity and thoughtful sensibilities—unfortunately, those glimmers amount to a disappointingly disorienting feature.

There are flashes throughout of the filmmaker at his absolute best, enough to remind audiences why Gray remains one of America’s most compelling storytellers, but taken as a whole, Paper Tiger ultimately feels like a lesser entry in his filmography, let alone the crime genre, which he has dabbled in on more than one occasion.

Seydoux’s gut-wrenching performance at the center of Gentle Monster, combined with a sensitive approach to horrifying subject matter, makes a tough watch equally compelling.

It’s a heartwarming film about queer nightlife, fatherhood, self-worth, and growing up long after society says you should have already done so. More than anything, it understands that redemption isn’t about becoming perfect. Sometimes it’s simply about finally permitting yourself to change, one step at a time.