Forge isn’t perfect, and some of the storylines don’t stick the landing, but Ng has created a space where all of these ideas are at play simultaneously, where we see characters we haven’t seen before, operating in new and surprising contexts.

Though the surrealism and playfulness of the short film have been streamlined for a narrative feature, “Decorado” still feels like a fully fleshed-out, focused work in its own right.

Director Bobby Farrelly’s “Driver’s Ed” may not reinvent the wheel, but by playing squarely to its middle-of-the-road strengths with a young cast clearly aware of the type of movie they’re in (it embodies the spirit of those early 2000s “friends hang out and go on an adventure” films), it’s still a trip worth taking.

It may feel like damning with faint praise, but “LifeHack” is easily one of the more tolerable screenlife thrillers of recent vintage.

Obsession’s biggest blind spot is its inability to reckon with the sexual and psychological violence being inflicted on Nikki during her possession: By telling the story from the perspective of someone who sees her more as a prize to be won than a full human being, the film itself risks sidelining her ordeal. Navarrette’s powerhouse performance helps mitigate this by puncturing Nikki’s bipolar outbursts with moments of heartbreaking clarity, reminding us of the human being trapped inside of this misogynistic caricature.

Guy Ritchie‘s In the Grey offers what fans expect from the director: relentless but nimble editing; breathtaking locations (Spain, Saudi Arabia, the Canary Islands); clothes, shoes, and hair to die for; the self-mocking machismo and playful insults of male bonding; and a character’s verbal summary of a plan intercut with shots of the actions being performed.

The picture sometimes plays as an amalgam of Soderbergh’s “Che” and Scorsese’s “Goodfellas,” only—and this is the crucial point—with the volume turned down from 10, or 11 for that matter, to about 4.

Our favorite slasher movies are often a little rough around the edges, a little unhinged, and a little inconsistent. And very few of them are this wildly entertaining.

Trees, like people, are deeply connected to the world around them. We, like they, pick up on signals, receive and interpret them, and respond in kind. “Silent Friend” offers the gentlest of those signals to us, in the form of its own hypnotic, mesmeric filmmaking. Pick up on those signals, let them rattle around in your head, and you’ll be richly rewarded.

While it’s a bit disheartening to see such a unique performer given such a traditional bio-doc, what comes through in “Life is Short” is the affection for its subject from pretty much everyone he’s ever worked with.

The movie expects you to just roll with all this stuff. Or slither. Sometimes you can’t. But when the film escapes the confinement tank of its numerous hand-me-down cliches, you’re happy to follow the water trail to see where it leads.

The movie is a lot of fun and masters a pleasingly detached yet sardonic tone early on, but unfortunately, it doesn’t have a lot more to offer after that, aside from a growing human menagerie of admittedly lively characters and a philosophical through line that’s pretty worn out—something like, “Humans are the real monsters.”

As a metaphor for the soft coercion of traditional gender roles, it works, although the theme is secondary to the twists in writer-director BT Meza’s sci-fi/horror hybrid.

Blue Film, through its many frank observations, stands as a vulnerable work about one’s past colliding with one’s present, in a bid to make peace with one’s true self.

Throughout her career, Goodman has found a way to keep her eye on the prize, focusing on what matters, cutting through the fat, and making sure to platform the very stories that might otherwise be overlooked. Though didactic, “Steal This Story, Please!” serves as an invitation to embody these values in your own life and work.

The Sheep Detectives brims with charm, wit, and a twisty murder mystery that can only be solved by the most endearing set of farm animals since Farmer Hoggett said “That’ll do” to Babe the pig.

The combo of Eilish’s stagecraft and Cameron’s filmmaking tools makes for a simply electrifying concert experience.

Sure, Mortal Kombat II has enough fight scenes and gore to deliver exactly what fans of the games expect from these movies. Then again, the makers of this new franchise-booster don’t seem to know how to fill the rest of their movie’s 116-minute runtime. They tie up loose ends from the last movie whenever they’re not nudging their new protagonists through the motions of another patchwork action-fantasy that’s too hip to be sincere and too hacky to be moving.

Structural quibbles aside, “Nuestra Tierra” is a powerful work of reclamation and advocacy for native peoples who have long been disenfranchised and dehumanized by systemic forces in colonial Argentina.

Thankfully, some climactic fight scenes, featuring strong action choreography and a clear overall presentation, give “One Spoon of Chocolate” the great emotional release it needs after so much dramatic buildup.

Two Pianos is a melodrama, and damned proud to be one.

An existential story that is a less bleak and more scenic version of Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, a psychological journey about connection, regret, memory, and meaning.

What this Netflix original lacks in narrative originality, it makes up for through a game voice cast, a wonderfully realized world, and a surprisingly dark spin on its story.

You can’t help but wish that this edition of the story was a bit more… groundbreaking.

I found it compelling for its depiction of the mechanics of the current athletic scene and the triumphs and tragedies that occur along the way. It may not leave you cheering in the end, but it will give you something to think about the next time the Olympics come around.

The ignorant and deeply painful misrepresentation of [Davidson's] condition at the BAFTAs shows just how much this film will do to make all of us think twice before judging someone.

It takes a special screen actor to play a character who appears in almost every scene of a movie; is anxious, sad, or irritable in most of them; never talks about his feelings; and makes choices so upsetting that certain viewers might want to quit watching, but somehow leaves you thinking he’s not that bad of a guy. John Magaro is such an actor.

When combined, the diametric halves form a charming diptych whose thematic and emotional profundity make for Miyake’s most accomplished work yet.