It is a film of two contrasting halves: Solange’s warm and fuzzy naivety and her cold coming of age.

The macro result of Free Guy is an innocuous, not-totally-unpleasant time-killer. It doesn’t warrant strong castigation, frankly because of the energy that would require.

At barely feature-length it’s somewhat a wisp of a film, but to good ends, as if the crazed artist at its helm isn’t even totally stopping to think, and like one of his greatest works, New Rose Hotel, channeling the fury of his early art into a different form of aggression.

It will sound like sacrilege, but Days could be the rare case of a Tsai Ming-liang film that doesn’t ever quite connect up and one that might even benefit from some cutting back.

Its setup is elevated, even after it goes from one close call to another, by the dream logic Filomarino instills in the minutiae of his story’s moving parts and John David Washington’s full-bodied performance.

It’s tempting to blame the broadness of Materna on the short runtimes of each segment, Gutnik and his screenwriters having little time to establish and explore each character’s identity.

While there are a few twists and turns to keep things fresh, a low budget forces the action to remain dialogue-heavy and more or less focused on this single necessity. Never redundant, it can get a little bit slow.

499 is often as riveting as it is stunning to consume: a spiritual journey punctuated with inhumane acts of violence intertwined with a certain national identity. Reyes offers an ambitious and unflinching portrait of contemporary Mexico that provides a vague answer regarding the endgame of the violence in the country.

While the concept remains sound as the backdrop for a frustrated public defender choosing the riskier road less traveled to make his mark and a difference when every other version of himself would balk, it has us believing the surreal visual anomalies sprinkled amidst the heist have purpose beyond superficial thematic reinforcement.

The Green Knight is supposed to be a tale about what it means to be human; Lowery’s film is entirely void of that humanity. It’s a dour, bloated experience that not only fundamentally misunderstands the work of art being adapted, but has no interest in exploring or expanding upon what was already there.

Being well-paced, and with the two leads kept at a solid, non-smug register while supporting players like Paul Giamatti and Jesse Plemons do the scenery-chewing with exaggerated accents, it’s easy to appreciate Jungle Cruise for simply being a little more pleasant than the average Disney product.

Is it possible to stand out and disappear at the same time? Matt Damon makes a convincing case study in Stillwater.

In The Divide, everybody is knowingly designed as a caricature, and its political ideas feel all the more shallow for it.

Paris, 13th District wades in the strange, true interconnectedness of life and evokes the banality within, so much that it starts to become banal itself.

Lorelei is nothing if not a story about redemption.

For all its social-realist tendencies, A Chiara is told in a wonderfully fluid and poetic fashion.

Nitram here pulls off the delicate eye of the needle: it has compassion for Nitram’s circumstances without providing an alibi for his actions.

Despite the unrelenting terrors and tragedies, both embodied and existential, Old is a very fun, almost breezy experience.

Our enjoyment of her quest for blood thus hinges more upon how fun we consider the humor Wascha and Wexler provide than the action itself.

If The Year of the Everlasting Storm isn’t exempt from the typical disjointedness of portmanteau films, it yields more coherency than its kin. With so many disparate works included, the experience becomes an intriguing exercise in cinematographic range and creative perspectives on the most globally unifying trauma in human history.

The pile-up of characterizations, melodramatic plot points, time jumps, and the prestigious, overqualified cast gives for some juicy narrative momentum, and Moretti himself approaches this material with absolute conviction––which for some viewers has given the impression of unintentional camp.

Hirsch is good, albeit a bit over-the-top. As is Fox, especially when busting Willis’ balls for being too much of a “coward” to take the risks she’s only too willing to tackle. And Haas is probably the best of them all as the monster hiding in plain sight.

It’s a very well done documentary on a technical level, and those qualities make it quite energizing at times. It’s the pace that truncates some of the details, making Homeroom too brisk to realize all of its moving parts.

Though France holds water as a black comedy and faintly realistic character study, hitting plausible yet predictable satirical targets, what makes it a good, characteristic Dumont film is its sense of experimentation.

It isn’t the most entertaining version of a Velvet Underground documentary, but it’s the truest to the group. Haynes hones in on character and new elements they brought to the table which, like elements of modern art, are best captured through philosophies and conceptual understanding, as they are here.

The thing about withholding plot information is that you must generally divulge that which you’ve held back at some point. To simply ignore that your audience is in the dark as far as the big picture is concerned is a sure-fire way to lose interest.

Since each one of these cousins has led such a distinct life from the others despite coming from the same place, everyone watching will be able to see a bit of themselves in one or more of them too. That’s why culturally relevant stories like Cousins are so crucial to understanding our world. They show us how alike we are no matter our religion, history, or skin color. To see their struggle is to sometimes know your role in its creation. To see their courage is to be inspired.

A Hero is perhaps a touch too sinuous and convoluted to be considered alongside his great early works, but it plays to his strengths and sensibilities—a clear return to form.