Alejandro Landes’s film depicts amorality with minimal curiosity and a surplus of numbing stylistic verve.
Corneliu Porumboiu’s film is very much a genre exercise, and a particularly Soderberghian one at that.
Mati Diop’s film is work of disparate influences and even genres that pulses on its own oblique wavelength.
What’s most stirring about Céline Sciamma’s film is the lack of artifice in Héloïse and Marianne’s feelings for one another.
The film is an intimate portrait of a nation terminally anxious about who will see fit to rule it next.
Much like its subject, Avi Belkin’s documentary knows how to start an argument.
The film elides politics in order to earnestly consider whether love is necessarily an act of possession.
The film is firmly grounded in the lives of low-wage workers looking for nothing more than a reliable paycheck.
Rather than a slice-of-life documentary, The Raft becomes a rather moving political parable.
Even after the film (quite entertainingly) explains itself, it never feels like more than a howl of frustration and cynicism.
The documentary shrewdly illustrates how media savvy can turn a fledgling protest into an international cause célèbre.
The portrait it paints of its Marines is redolent of the twitchy frustration caused by a long stint in a sparse landscape with a hazy mission.
The film’s gritty, mundane agonies come to feel like a series of moral tests with genuinely unpredictable outcomes.
The documentary is uniquely attuned to the fickle whims of history, politics, and biographical circumstance.
Sandi Tan’s view of what the original Shirkers represented, and what her new film should be, is surprisingly expansive.
The intimacy of writer-director Mia Hansen-Løve’s Maya is as precise as its intellect is vague.
A lovely Blu-ray transfer, but those hoping for any contextual supplements about the film’s complex politics or adaptation will be left wanting.
Writer-director Andrew Haigh’s Lean on Pete exudes a quiet but self-evident sense of struggle.
RaMell Ross’s documentary is more powerful when its imagery more obliquely subverts historical totems.
Black Mother finds director Khalik Allah doubling down on his established aesthetic to bold, hypnotic ends.