The Line is unable to bring its disparate elements into a convincing totality.
We begin, as we always do, with the categories that are actually fun to predict.
Twisting the Knife collects four taut late-period exercises in ambiguity from the great Claude Chabrol.
To paraphrase the Sex Pistols, the title character of Anaïs In Love doesn’t know what she wants, but she knows how to get it.
François Ozon’s paean to nostalgia wraps tragedy and obsession in a whimsical bow.
Criterion gives one of last year’s most deeply felt and beautifully shot films a rich transfer and a respectable set of extras.
Claire Denis finds the inexorable beauty (and sadness) in that most corrosive and fugacious of feelings.
Restless, at times even chaotic, the film often seems to be replicating the experience of having a manic episode.
Bruno Dumont’s formalism is charged with a spark of simultaneously controlled and spontaneous mystery.
My King might have been more resonant had Maïwenn allowed more time and space for her characterizations to organically develop.
It ultimately lacks the vision and conviction to honestly and meaningfully dissect a contemporary political movement’s deep-seated structural malaise.
Paolo Virzì’s Human Capital gives the tired trope of cutting between overlapping stories a welcome shot of adrenaline.
Following the left turn that was Red Lights, Regrets seems closer to familiar territory.
The film meditates on the myriad permutations of love and sensuality, from familial longings to food fetishes.
Perhaps Denis’s most approachable mix of humanism and erotic meditation.
Though lighter on her feet than Jacques Rivette, Valeria Bruni-Tedeschi does not recognize the abstract in the real.
The film suggests not so much the stirring of a soul as Sir Ridley grinding his teeth behind the camera.
With Olmi, Kiarostami, and Loach aboard, this is a train certainly worth hopping.
Tickets offers a triptych of slender yet genuine delights.
Melvil Poupaud is a great crier but his character’s bratty attitude feels groundless.