When it’s all said and done—the technical marvels elucidated, the stylistic flare appreciated, the wide-eyed self-reflection given a fair shake in retaliation to the all-too-easy critique of self-indulgence—I can’t help but wince a little at the thought of a second watch. If it’ll be great to revisit certain sequences, the thought of stomaching all three hours again so soon is grueling.

It is, above all else, a fascinating window into the personal and creative life of a queer woman constantly rebelling against the restrictive social norms of her time while trying to decipher what kind of person she is herself.

The African Desperate is an electrifying, riveting odyssey, and Stingily—with her deadpan humor and no-nonsense swagger—makes its ending all the more cathartic.

TÁR is an effort of tremendous skill and restraint, beginning with a confidence bordering on arrogance and building to a brilliant crescendo—only after that first act do the best things begin to surface, the compelling energy of ruthless ambition and the unmistakable, delicious hum of dread.

It feels condescending to brand Baumbach’s White Noise a “nice try,” considering how much the director has accomplished in the past, but it’s sadly quite accurate—if also more nuanced than calling it a failure or something that shouldn’t have been pursued.

Guided by stark intertitles and a poetic narration written by scholar Tobi Haslett, the film takes a micro and macro view of the ‘60s as a flashpoint for blatant disregard of American––especially impoverished Black American––social needs.

The film’s simply a bit off-kilter—written with influences blatantly on its sleeves yet uninterested in subverting any assumptions that fact guarantees. I must be missing something.

Where Beast falls a little short is its lacking a great overall set piece. Many effective, small jumpscares and Elba stridently defending his turf at the end (à la The Revenant‘s bear tussle) are undeniably rousing, but not exploring the vast sub-Saharan landscape seems a missed opportunity.

The Immaculate Room isn’t breaking the mold on this type of conceit; if anything it’s purposely embracing a narrow scope of mental fracturing the scenario can ignite and counting on the actors to make it compelling.

The Legend of Molly Johnson never feels like anything but a cinematic experience.

Braun and Martin make some interesting choices and craft a gorgeous-looking film on an obviously shoestring budget, but none of that matters when my one wish was for these characters to never see each other again.

Spin Me Round never reaches classic status, but works as an enjoyable, sometimes uproarious subversion of rom-com tropes. Pull up a chair, and mangia.

It’s empty horror barely skating by on recognizable IP.

That this claustrophobic sci-fi thriller quickly won me over with its early David Cronenberg inspirations only allowed my excitement to increase with each passing minute as I found myself unable to detach from its captivatingly dark, timely pandemic mystery.

By separating this film into two parts we really get to understand how alluring Freegard was.

Beyond its aesthetic and horror lies a poignant message about second chances.

Grashaw’s ability to keep everything moving through that thick air of uncertainty is the film’s best attribute because it does feel like we’ve gone off-track more than once after chapter one (there are three, one for each sibling).

Pitt’s charm can’t save Bullet Train from its inappreciable destiny, even if the film represents a decade-long shift in the genre: a misunderstanding from directors that audiences are more excited by jokes rather than action and depth.

Aside from the sparse bit of wincing fan service (such as odd prominence for what would usually be a mere easter egg), Prey is a nimble bit of carnage via perfect late-summer blockbuster. That such a worthy successor gets relegated not to the cinema but the streaming wars is a brutal slaughter in its own right.

Bodies Bodies Bodies feels like A24 trying to suck up to the cool kids––a vapid, perhaps successful attempt to reel in a contemporary influencer crowd. Enjoying it feels partially dependent on one’s familiarity with celebrity pop culture, the intricacies of tabloid news, and the ever-evolving landscape of political correctness.

Girl Picture is sweet, tender, and frequently amusing: a love letter to that time we ache to leave in the rearview mirror but which shapes who we are and how we love more than anything else.

Directors Ha and Yi craft a compelling and moving tribute to a man who was by no means a perfect person but nevertheless had a remarkable impact on breaking barriers.

We Met In Virtual Reality then is a perfect showcase of how VRChat (and the Internet at large) allows users to transcend the boundaries and limitations of reality to form meaningful connections. As DustBunny & Toaster note, it’s a world where “you can be who you always wanted to be.” Hunting does it justice by highlighting all the beauty and possibility that exists within.

Is the tonal marriage perfect between the over-the-top hijinks about the gross commodification of “wokeness” and melodramatic exposure of the cost those actually fighting must pay as a result? No. In many instances it seems Shephard does want us to pity Danni (Deutch’s performance almost deserves it too once she finds a conscience hiding below her vanity) despite her endgame proving the opposite.

Whether you know the truth going in or not, My Old School is a hugely entertaining charmer.

The only way this play at “bringing a sense of joy and optimism during a time of great fear and loss” (as she states in her brief, platitude-heavy, 68-word director’s statement) could be more tone-deaf is if she waited to reveal it was set during the first few weeks of the pandemic in 2020 for a third-act rug pull.

Ultimately The Gray Man is far from offensive, and for some it’ll scratch that itch for the kind of thing destined for eternal lazy Sunday afternoon play on TBS, but it’s hard not seeing it as representative of a lowering of standards—the content-ization of cinema, if you will.

Mazlo’s graphic design and animation background shines with a sort of elongated montage taking Alice from Beirut’s streets (guided by a woman dressed as the Lebanese flag’s cedar tree) to the diner where she meets Joseph and then through the years of them starting a family.