If some things could perhaps be narratively tightened, you always get the gist of what Fessenden is going for while knowing those moments which might be lacking aren’t a product of intent. And if you somehow find yourself unable to get past them, it’s impossible not to enjoy the stellar cast of supporting players.

Despite its darkly supernatural package, however, Louis-Seize’s film adheres to its idiosyncratic tone of purposeful excitement for a future that’s hardly assured––death can be a beginning too. Rather than adhere to the status quo by taking people’s lives, maybe Sasha can somehow take their deaths instead.

Bryon deserves the focus, yet the film never paints any broader strokes. Transition works because of that one person, but it cannot climb any further under these limitations.

While putting attractive stars onscreen in lavish locations isn’t new, here’s a film that does it well and isn’t afraid of showcasing authentic, character-driven humor that nowadays almost seems old-fashioned.

The suddenness with which it races to a disappointingly conventional resolution is the only misstep among a bold, remarkably assured debut feature.

With two wonderful performances by Barbie Ferreira and John Leguizamo––playing two strangers who share the same last name but are otherwise unrelated––the film progresses into a moving yet somewhat predictable affair. And that’s okay.

Eschewing self-righteousness, Free Time merely presents a collection of observations on how modern life often plays out like an absurdist comedy. Burgess then steps in to provide the inarticulate mouthpiece for a generation of people who are mad as hell and not going to take it anymore, but unsure what the step beyond yelling about it entails.

There are a host of avenues the film could’ve explored that might have given audiences more to chew on and make Cecilia’s journey more engaging; Immaculate opts for a straightforward approach that delivers the violent ending it seeks but squanders the potential of its promising setup in the process.

Through their concentrated and pared-down survey of institutional power, Asgari and Khatami show foremost how no behavior and social practice is spared the state’s gaze, and personal autonomy––especially for those outside the elites––remains only a myth.

The Greatest Hits might not inspire thoughtful essays, as a cinematic pop album it satisfies with a few somber notes, some lesser tracks, and a few terrific moments where it all just works.

Whatever you take out of this Rorschach test, Oppenheim’s lens elucidates the organic nature of relationships and how no one can force life. Time is your friend to fully experience the process.

Gyllenhaal manages to hold this tonally inconsistent film together, but he’s the only person involved who has some clear handle on how this story should be told from beginning to end.

Tonal shifts will have some dismissing Uproar as slight, but I think its motives are strong enough to succeed regardless.

While bound to spark hundreds of think pieces, Alex Garland’s stirring Civil War will undoubtedly go down, too, as one of the most provocative films of the year. It’s also an early contender for one of the best, offering a stunning warning: no matter what the cause, war is hell.

While the romantic comedy and set-bound gags work, the hunt for Ryder––and the cartoonishly inept gangsters and drug dealers that populate his underworld––compel less.

While the show that ends the film might overstay its welcome a bit, Ghostlight is a profound work about a tough family made tougher by unimaginable grief.

With a premise that is as simple or as complex as you’d like it to be, Monkey Man anoints Dev Patel as a new action director and star.

Vibrant and often hilarious––with a surprise appearance by Fred Durst, who becomes a spirit guide to help the kids “break stuff” and save humanity––Y2K is far from perfect, but it does try harder than most comedies in its densely accurate portrait of an era of angst awaiting the nightmares of the 9/11 era.

Glitter & Doom feels like a beautiful, energetic half-measure.

High & Low: John Galliano feels like half a movie––plenty of questions, no answers. It’s the beginning of an intriguing conversation and not much else.

Along with these first-hand accounts––and there are some spicy ones, considering the semi-final match between Italy and Mexico needed to be called ten minutes early after all hell breaks loose––the footage of the games themselves amaze too.

Truthful in its depictions of gender constraints, Yuni is more than a major leap forward for Kamila Andini; it’s also one for Indonesian cinema. Here’s a rare teen drama that shines a light on how dated social and gender norms often force young girls in the country to “bloom” before they are ready.

The result, written by Julia Lederer (from her play) and directed by Kim Albright, is a film loaded with metaphors and similes where fragile hearts are made of paper and nothing is left to chance.

Like the film’s many predecessors, Spaceman is a story of how far a person might go to escape their traumas––a journey outward that leads to one within––yet even if Renck is out to give us his Solaris, the director knows better than to take this conceit too seriously.

Dahomey begins where Statues Also Die ended, wondering what remains of our identities when the things those cling onto suddenly disappear––then resurface from oblivion. To this, Diop offers no clear answers. But in the heart-shaking passion of that university debate, in those students’ resolute commitment to reappropriate their own narratives, she finds something rarer still: a snapshot of a generation for whom this isn’t just the story of a restitution. It’s a resurrection.

Dumont’s space oddity might not always land on the right side of its jokes and provocations, but every now and then it takes the breath away.

A Traveller’s Needs is just the tonic: a film that passes through you like a breath of fresh air.

It is a story about power and it needs to be told.