Michael Frank

Chen’s film doesn’t contain the care needed for this story, wasting the talent of Erivo in a role that underserves her already-known abilities. The script holds much of that fault for attempting to capture the totality of West African politics and the entirety of the refugee experience into a single distant, empty character. It’s ill-advised and unconsidered, forgetting to add a semblance of thoughtfulness.

Though the film might be reminiscent of other walk-about-town rom-coms that came before, Rye Lane carries a sense of freshness.

Jamojaya has the bones to be a good film, possibly even a great one. Its director’s insistence on style turns that potential into mediocrity, ending with a film that’s passable at best. It leaves audiences with indifference––nothing more.

More than just misunderstood, his characters are underwritten and underserved. Thus the expected emotion never arrives. The gut punch never comes, even as music swells. All of this fear fizzles; message, story, and figures become transient. It starts with so much promise, only to end as a letdown–like waiting for the end of the world only for the storm to pass.

Fairyland is McNairy’s film. He ripped my heart out. He’ll likely do the same to the majority of viewers, leaving wet eyes and sniffling nose. Fairyland is McNairy’s to care for, to love, to let go. In return, he gives his greatest performance.

Brewster and Stephenson struggle to penetrate the armor of this famous poet, focusing instead on her career, her health, and the way that others look at her. Most often they do so with deep admiration, a longing to be fixed by Giovanni.

Capturing a portion of that contrast, due to the closeness and interest of its subjects, The Mission moves beyond an optimistic portrait and into murkier territory, making for a more valuable document. If only Anderson went even further and muddied up the glassy waters.

Zlotowski’s fifth feature excels thanks to a compelling lead performance from Efira, giving insight into one woman’s relationship to motherhood. Her wants, her love, and her losses are all on display, built up only to be let down. Baked in a stern reality, the drama never loses that central, necessary thread.

Englert’s first feature isn’t low on creativity, but visibly lacks cohesion. It’s difficult to connect to, disparate in its own storytelling, mood, and tone. It’s an audacious script and directorial vision, falling short.

There’s not necessarily anything new in Parmet’s script, despite her care towards this character of Jem. The film lacks surprise, and in this case, is missing a level of engagement.

For Forster and his leading man, the drama is a step down from previous work, an emotionally telegraphed, near-manipulative adaptation of a better book already adapted in Sweden to far greater results.

If obviously silly, it represents an obsession with cutting-edge tech, the shininess of something new, and making our lives easier, lazier, and less connected. Although this commentary is blatant, the film—with all its insanity—remains highly enjoyable: real good, real fun, real simple cinema.

The film plays as one extended memory—sometimes more bitter, sometimes more sweet, always a combination of both.

The built narrative struggles against the facts of its plot, unable to find rhythm in a fictionalized version of events. But none of it matters—Brown remains a remarkable figure, a complicated character to study, and impossible not to root for.

Johansen is a force despite this film’s flaws, undeniable in both charms and quirks. His talent remains emphatic, and his stage presence is enough for the camera to sit back and appreciate him. Being enigmatic yet accessible, Scorsese and Tedeschi must capture his substantial coolness. They succeed in spades.

Sr. is sweet and tender, never playing as a dolled-up version of this relationship; it instead depicts a trueness in this bond, a warmth that has existed all of their lives. The sounds that echo after the film ends are the Downeys laughing together––about dumb stuff, about film references, about the past, about their present, about anything and everything.

It gives time, credence, and a stage to Mamie, a woman immortalized through her motherhood and 50 years of advocacy overlooked that has become overlooked. It’s a timely, essential piece of filmmaking.

For a Lynch diehard, Lynch/Oz will be catnip. For any average moviegoer, it digs into the well of American cinema history with enough fascination that it’s worth a watch.

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.

A moving, devastating piece of filmmaking.

Cho, Isaac, and a cameo from Jemaine Clement become bright spots in a film trying too hard to buck trends of other road-trip journeys while ultimately falling into similar traps. Life lessons and karaoke songs go to waste with the talent of a cast too good for this story.

Brian and Charles didn’t need to be a feature. It could have continued to peacefully and joyfully exist as a short, and its material stretches the story thin as a sheet in this extended form. But the charm and fun of its story outweighs a scrawny narrative.

Sharp Stick is nothing short of singular. If it’s unlikely this project will gain the director any new fans, it represents another step into bold territory—even as quality dips and swerves, this is a project where it seems no notes were given, the kind of freedom that’s refreshing in today’s landscape.

Lucy and Desi won’t provide many surprises for those with a general understanding of Ball and Arnaz. It can look and sound like a paint-by-numbers documentary, with the trappings of any streamable film being churned out at major studios. Technically, it’s standard fare. Emotionally, it’s a beating heart—Poehler’s beating heart.

A genre film committed and receptive to the melted minds of its characters and the equally melted minds of its audience

Clint Bentley’s Jockey sources its strength from its casting. Led by a career-best Clifton Collins Jr. and supported by more-than-solid performances from Molly Parker and Moisés Arias, the film leans on these three actors to tell a tried-and-true story.

Unflinching in her questioning of the abandonment and how it affected each individual party, the film moves throughout Jin’s life with persistence and without rush. The result is an affecting, brutal look at the real-life trauma of the One-Child Policy for one economically struggling family in a rural area of China.

A simple, yet beautiful film due to this sense of place, Luzzu highlights a story that’s rooted in tradition and particularity. At times, rushed in its quest to find a central conflict, the film finds Camilleri crafting a coarse story, one void of laughs, jokes, or levity.