Norwegian filmmaker Emilie Blichfeldt’s horror dramedy is largely entertaining on its own terms, even for viewers unwilling to dig deeper. Its modernist meta-textual caustic sting? You can take it or leave it. But it will richly reward those in tune with Blichfeldt’s gleeful bastardization of fairytale tropes.

Despite a committed performance from Benedict Cumberbatch, the end result truly doesn’t coalesce either from an artistic or cinematic perspective.

An incredibly ambitious film that, at times, astounds and then somehow can’t completely stick the landing.

Two Women is a titillating, vibrant send-up of societal expectations that goes down easy despite its brashness. (See: Violette’s farcical misinterpretation of the #MeToo hashtag.) It’s strongest when leaning hard into hedonism, but even a distracted narrative can’t bring this frothy flick down.

It’s hard to recall a movie that leaves you with this feeling of genuine hope.

What truly elevates Plainclothes in this genre are the contributions from Tovey and Blyth.

While this send-up might not pass the scrutiny for a rewatch or cult classic, it’s at least good for one fun and unexpected go-round.

It’s a unique profile of Matlin, and by incorporating a wealth of her similarly deaf friends, the film sits in stark contrast to its contemporaries; when any interviewee uses sign language, and the sound drops to near zero, it’s hard not to feel all the more engaged.

It’s still a hilarious adventure, but Ulman loses some of her magic within a more diffuse narrative framework.

Lurker is the sort of film that lingers with you for days.

Without all of the performers being completely at the top of their game, none of this would work, and it could grow tiresome rather quickly. Luckily, all of them give such refreshingly vulnerable, funny, and lived-in performances that make you more than happy to spend time with all of them.

The film has no answers because Lin plays it more like a heist film—where the bounty is the purity of the unexposed North Sentinelese—than a sincere human drama about faith and identity. Lin entertains as a result but struggles to enlighten.

It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley doesn’t do much of anything new with the documentary form, though still excavates plenty of interesting details within a familiar package.

Uneven pacing and an anemic plot hamstring the film, which has a couple of interesting ideas yet precious few about how to convey them to its audience.

When the laughs fade, the tone feels all too familiar. Despite superb work behind the camera and some picturesque Estonian locations, “Bubble” is less original than it wants to be.

The most remarkable aspect of Victor’s accomplishment with Sorry, Baby isn’t her wry sense of humor and deft observations about the inherent awkwardness of human social interactions (although it consistently pops). Instead, it’s how she emphasizes the seriousness of the events while staying true to Agnes’ unique personality.

As a filmmaker, Walker-Silverman’s talents are letting a narrative unfold without pretense or melodrama. When the events are this powerful you don’t need to ratchet up the stakes.

Despite a talented cast, the comedic aspect of the movie is tepid at best. Outside of Ariel’s character (Edebiri saves a lot of it), the jokes are obvious and predictable. Moreover, Ariel is the only well-rounded character in the movie despite, maybe, the ego-driven Moretti.

These recollections might be captivating on paper, but they become somewhat monotonous and uninteresting on screen.

Along with some truly breathtaking visuals, the pint-size Ochi is the best part of Saxon’s long-in-the-works opus.

Liza: A Truly Terrific Absolutely True Story serves as an introduction to the entertainment legend or a reminder of all that happened to cement her status as more than a mere performer, this film deserves to take a bow.

In Webley’s empathetic rendering of a family’s dire dilemma, no one is absolved or blamed – yet everyone pays.

Gandbhir could have arranged all of this like a book report with a foregone conclusion, yet she trusts in the truth of this story and the intelligence of her audience to pull apart the necessary history and sociopolitical context of it all.

At its heart, Twinless is a movie about loneliness. About finding someone to fill that emptiness, soothing life’s inherent anxiety. Whether a lover or a friend, they are often hard to find.

What keeps “Jimpa” from collapsing on itself is Colman’s steady turn (don’t forget, she’s so talented she was the only compelling aspect of Marvel Studios’ disastrous “Secret Invasion”) and Matthew Chuang’s wonderfully lush cinematography.

Bornstein has fashioned a cinematic anxiety-fueled experience whether you can relate to having children or not.

No one can fault the cast for giving it what might be seen as a decent shot, but if Star Trek: Section 31 leaves you with one thing, it’s that the final frontier, which is future spinoffs, might be best left alone.