Sunfish (& Other Stories on Green Lake) (2025)

Direction: Sierra Falconer
Country: USA 

Executive produced by Joanna Hogg (The Souvenir, 2019), Sunfish (& Other Stories on Green Lake) is a soulful five-vignette anthology directed by newcomer Sierra Falcone. The semi-autobiographical film, built around coming-of-age themes, follows a 14-year-old girl who discovers a love of sailing while staying with her grandparents after her mother’s recent remarriage; a young violinist striving to excel at a summer music camp under the pressure of his ambitious mother; a brief, tragic romance between a dreamy fisherman and a rebellious young woman; and the deep bond between two sisters who run a bed-and-breakfast on Michigan’s Green Lake.

Through carefully framed shots and a cohesive ensemble cast, Falcone tackles mature themes while maintaining a gentle patina of softness across the film. There is a generosity of spirit and a sense of lived experience that lift Sunfish above more conventional indie dramas. The screenplay’s objectivity and simplicity may frustrate viewers seeking denser plotting, but Falcone has an undeniable gift for tuning into deftly tactful wavelengths, rendering each story with a delicate, warm sensibility.

These modest, uncynical tales make space for compassion—occasionally moving, never manipulative. The actors bring nuance and vitality, often adding just when the film seems to risk subtracting from itself.

The Smashing Machine (2025)

Direction: Bennie Safdie
Country: USA 

In his first film without his brother Josh, Bennie Safdie (Daddy Longlegs, 2009; Uncut Gems, 2019) turns to the true story of former wrestler and MMA fighter Mark Kerr, reconstructing key events—between 1997 and 2000—of his professional and personal life with with the relaxed, comfortable posture of an alternative sports biopic. Safdie casts Dwayne Johnson—here boasting an intimidating, Herculean presence—in the lead role, with Emily Blunt as Kerr’s selfish yet intermittently supportive girlfriend. Double-time Bellator MMA champion Ryan Bader appears as Kerr’s best friend Mark Coleman, while Dutch MMA former champion Bas Rutten, who trained Kerr in real life, plays himself.

Buoyed by terrific lead performances, The Smashing Machine avoids pushing the drama into radical territory, instead adopting a mildly superficial stance toward adversity. Although well shot, the fighting scenes lack visceral bite and could have carried more tension. Ultimately, this is a compact, low-key film that resists showiness. Safdie—who also wrote, produced, and edited—doesn’t inject new life into the familiar framework. It’s Johnson, vigorously supported by Blunt, who keeps the film afloat with a ferocious, career-expanding performance, breaking free from his usual screen persona and delivering a convincing portrayal of Kerr in a successful turn toward dramatic acting.

The Smashing Machine, overshadowed by John Hyams’ 2002 documentary of the same name, sometimes feels like a re-enacted documentary, following a classic, predictable narrative path. It’s a minor biopic with a satisfying retro flavor—one we watch without either great enthusiasm or boredom.

The Summer Book (2025)

Direction: Charlie McDowell
Country: UK / USA / Finland

Directed by Charlie McDowell (The One I Love, 2014; Windfall, 2022), written by Robert Jones, and starring and co-produced by Glenn Close (Fatal Attraction, 1987; Dangerous Liaisons, 1988), The Summer Book is a bland adaptation of Tove Jansson’s 1972 novel of the same name. It follows a grandmother (Close) and her six-year-old granddaughter, Sophia (Emily Matthews), as they spend the summer on a small island in the Gulf of Finland. The young girl and her emotionally distant father (Anders Danielsen Lie), a busy yet lonely illustrator, are still grieving the loss of her mother and his wife, respectively.

Emotional fragility and occasional boredom affect Sophia, while her grandmother—deeply connected to nature—shows signs of memory lapses. The Summer Book is a sweet, tender tale, but its development feels sluggish and its resolution predictable. The film lacks gravity, lingering too long on minute details and subdued gestures that make it feel humble yet monotonous. Rania Hani’s somnolent score does little to invigorate the pacing, which often borders on lethargic.

There are lessons to be learned here, but it takes more than a leading star and gentle plotting to make a film truly resonate. Not to mention that the scenery has more definition than the characters. Slight at its core, The Summer Book remains stubbornly stalled between sincere intentions and a weary torpor.

One Battle After Another (2025)

Direction: Paul Thomas Anderson
Country: USA

It’s always a thrill when the virtuosic American helmer Paul Thomas Anderson (Magnolia, 1999; There Will Be Blood, 2007; The Master, 2012) steps behind the camera. His latest work, One Battle After Another, is a provocative, incendiary epic action thriller that grips the viewer from the first frame to the last. Loosely inspired by Thomas Pynchon’s 1990 postmodern novel Vineland, the film follows the turbulent path of Ghetto Pat (Leonardo DiCaprio), an ex-revolutionary, radical activist, and explosive device expert who is forced out of hiding after 16 years to protect his teenage daughter (newcomer Chase Infiniti) from a vile enemy, Colonel Steven Lockjaw (Sean Penn). 

Delivered with heart, precision, and unrelenting momentum, the film never loses its grip, keeping us on the edge of our seats. By portraying a relentless battle against fascism and white supremacists, the film comes as an unexpected breath of life, resonating intensely in a tense, fractured America. 

Depicting chaos with both rigor and dark humor, the film channels a particular strain of madness that feels all too familiar in our times. It also marks a landmark first collaboration between Anderson and DiCaprio, who inhabits his role with startling freedom, intensity, and conviction. Penn, meanwhile, delivers one of his most venomous turns in years—an embodiment of egotism, malice, and hatred.

With the cast in peak form, a notable score by Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood, and Anderson’s masterful writing and direction, the two hours and forty minutes of One Battle After Another fly by. It’s a breathtaking achievement—visceral, intelligent, and electrifying cinema at its finest.

Young Mothers (2025)

Direction: Luc and Jean-Pierre Dardenne
Country: Belgium / France

The Dardenne brothers, Belgian masters of social realism, return with Young Mothers, a poignant chronicle of five teenage single mothers facing economic hardship while temporarily living in a maternal center in Liège. Struggling with anxiety, hope, and fragile illusions about their new reality, these young women each grapple with uncertain futures—whether to return to their families, reconnect with their child’s father, or keep their baby. Functioning as a group portrait, this marks the Dardennes’ first ensemble film, an inspired shift that proves fruitful. They shot it in the very center that initially sparked their idea for the film, grounding the story in authentic detail.

Young Mothers is not without flaws, but it stands as a powerful, emotionally resonant portrayal of young motherhood. The Dardennes’ signature quasi-documentary style brings intimacy and immediacy to the narrative, with each story punctuated by twists and moments of quiet revelation. The suspense lies less in whether these disoriented girls will give up their babies and more in whether they’ll achieve the emotional stability needed to build a full life. It’s a sharply observed and deeply felt drama that—despite its somber themes—glows with empathy and restrained optimism.

Throughout, the need for love, care, and human connection remains constant, while trauma is often met with gentle compassion and flickers of hope. Unraveling the threads with a tone that screams truth, Young Mothers never slips into pathos. It’s a vital, humanistic work that captures the wounds of the past, contradictions of the present, and fears of the future. Not the grandest film of the year, perhaps—but quite possibly the most essential.

Killing Faith (2025)

Direction: Ned Crowley
Country: USA

Killing Faith, a supernatural western written, directed, and co-produced by Ned Crowley (Middle Man, 2016), struggles to convince despite solid performances from Guy Pearce, DeWanda Wise, and Bill Pullman, as well as a moody, intriguing premise. It’s a difficult film to champion.

The story follows Dr. Bender (Pearce), an emotionally torn physician who agrees to escort Sarah Worthington (Wise)—a recently freed slave—and her allegedly possessed white daughter (Emily Ford) across the West to seek a reclusive faith healer (Pullman). Their journey is fraught with peril: outlaws, a bizarre family, and an inscrutable Native American chief all cross their path before the trio reaches their mysterious destination.

Sticking to a solid mainstream moviemaking, Crowley crafts his story with darkly comedic touches and a mild supernatural bend. Yet, the film’s eerie tone goes disastrously wrong, marred by a sluggish plot that promises more than it delivers. 

Entering in psycho-religious mode but obliterating any potential nuances or characterization work in the process, Killing Faith’s intriguing concept dissolves into arrhythmic storytelling and monotonous execution. A frustrating case of a film working against its own best ideas.

Tina (2025)

Direction: Miki Magasiva
Country: New Zealand

This New Zealand drama, written and directed by debut filmmaker Miki Magasiva, follows a Samoan teacher (Anapela Polataivao) who loses her daughter in the 2011 Christchurch earthquake and seeks solace in directing a student choir at an elite, predominantly white private school. There, she confronts racism and social inequities but gradually earns the respect of her students, their families, and the broader community, ultimately finding redemption through music and mentorship.

Tina is a motivational, feel-good story infused with genuine emotion and strong dramatic moments. Its triumphs feel hard-won, and Magasiva—himself born in Samoa—approaches the material with sincerity and craft. He employs a largely traditional filmmaking style, balancing it with a modern sensibility. His camera searches earnestly for emotion, particularly in the climactic musical sequence, where sentimentality hovers. However, he walks that tightrope with passionate devotion, showing he has a way with both actors and sets.

Generic and uncomplicated—which doesn't mean it doesn't work—Tina catches the eye as an admirable tale of resilience and hope.

Lurker (2025)

Direction: Alex Russell
Country: USA

Alex Russell’s debut feature, Lurker, is a sharp, unsettling study of competitive environments, the hunger for attention, obsessive fantasy, and emotional manipulation. Shot in textured 16mm, it unfolds as a psychological drama tinged with darkness and simmering tension, anchored by strong performances from Théodore Pellerin (Genesis, 2018; Never Rarely Sometimes Always, 2020) and Archie Madekwe (Midsommar, 2019). Pellerin plays a lonely, obsessive fan who cunningly insinuates himself into the inner circle of the musician he idolizes—played by Madekwe. Playing a toxic game, he ensconces himself in his idol’s house and pretends to be his best friend. 

Slyly aware of its own absurdity, the film keeps you hooked through its intricate web of relationships and subtle rivalries. It deftly examines the psychology of a narcissistic outsider turned confidant, revealing the corrosion and chaos his presence brings to those around him.

Though Lurker never transcends the confines of traditional storytelling, it retains an alluring spark—serving as a quiet warning against the ever-smiling manipulator desperate for validation. Pellerin is superb, walking the fine line between unhinged stalker and misguided devotee, radiating unease in every glance. It’s a pity that this perspicacious setup never fully detonates, but even without the explosive payoff it hints at, Lurker remains an astute, unnerving character study that lingers.

Kontinental '25 (2025)

Direction: Radu Jude
Country: Romania 

Admired Romanian writer-director Radu Jude, always incisive and corrosive in his observations, continues to nurture a deceptively simple yet striking filmmaking style, favoring long, conversational takes—this time shot entirely on an iPhone 15. His latest feature, Kontinental ’25—both a nod to Rossellini's Europe ’51 (1952) and a sharp social commentary on Romania’s systemic failures and the erosion of individual experience—captures the essence of real neighborhoods (partly drawn from documentary footage on the history of local architecture) while following the story of a guilt-ridden Hungarian bailiff, Orsolya (Eszter Tompa). After evicting a once-celebrated athlete turned destitute alcoholic—who later takes his own life—she becomes haunted by the event.

Vilified by nationalists online and demonized by the xenophobic press, Orsolya cancels her vacation with her detached husband and seeks solace through a series of tense encounters—with a cold friend, her quarrelsome nationalist mother, an Orthodox priest, and her former law student Fred (Adonis Tanta), now a food delivery worker fond of reciting “Zen” parables.

This tragicomic narrative, seemingly small in scope, expands into a broader portrait of Romania’s social, moral, and political condition. Jude fuses absurdism with realism to create something both unpretentiously profound and mordantly funny. There are no thrills in the conventional sense—the real suspense lies in discovering where Jude will ultimately take us. Visually, the film remains modest, yet the director providies just enough terra firma to sustain viewer engagement.

While Kontinental ’25 may not reach the towering resonance of Aferim! (2015) or Do Not Expect Too Much from the End of the World (2023), it achieves a finely tuned balance between structural modesty and thematic depth. Depending on one’s patience for slow cinema, this unabashedly sardonic work will either repel or fascinate—but it unmistakably continues Jude’s bold dismantling of Romanian society from within.

Sirat (2025)

Direction: Oliver Laxe
Country: Spain / France

The fourth feature by French-born Spanish filmmaker Oliver Laxe (Mimosas, 2016; Fire Will Come, 2019), Sirat unfolds as a radical road trip that transforms into a breathtaking survival thriller. Watching it feels like being struck by a seismic wave that grips you from the start. Early on, we’re told that Sirat is a bridge connecting heaven and hell—a fitting metaphor for the journey ahead. 

Co-written with his regular collaborator Santiago Fillol, the film follows a distressed father (Sergi López) and his young son (Bruno Núñez Arjona) as they search for his missing adult daughter in the southern mountains of Morocco. Along the way, they encounter a group of nomadic ravers caught in trippy dance rituals, awash in hallucinogens and the volatile promise of freedom.

Beautifully shot and powerfully acted, this intoxicating work confirms Laxe as a singular filmmaker. His skill in balancing nihilistic, hallucinatory, and spiritual tones is remarkable. Kangding Ray’s hypnotic trance score meshes seamlessly with Mauro Herce’s vivid, sun-scorched cinematography, deepening the film’s immersive atmosphere.

Aside from López, Laxe again directs non-professional actors, maintaining his idiosyncratic style—measured, raw, and far removed from conventional storytelling. Drawing inspiration from Kiarostami’s Taste of Cherry (1997) and produced by Pedro Almodóvar, Sirat is a grave, unsettling meditation on loss and human frailty. It builds on fear and anguish, creating a palpable sense of doom that seeps into your bones—you’ll feel the sweat on your back in its most intense moments.

Sirat is a punchy, excruciating film that shakes things up in a way rarely seen on screen. An audacious leap forward for Laxe, who edges ever closer to becoming one of auteur cinema’s defining voices.

Twinless (2025)

Direction: James Sweeney
Country: USA

Alaskan writer-director and producer James Sweeney stars in his sophomore feature Twinless, a black comedy where he shares the screen with Dylan O’Brien. 

This darkly tinted tale of obsession and guilt kicks off with a funeral and ends up with a renewed relationship. Dennis (Sweeney), a lonely and emotionally wrecked gay man, meets Roman (O’Brien)—not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed—at a supporting group for twinless twins. What starts as a seemingly healing friendship soon spirals into conflict as unsettling secrets come to light.

The film maintains a consistent tone but lacks a compelling point of view. It starts confidently and intriguingly, yet drifts into a meandering bore. There’s no reason Twinless couldn’t have been witty or mordantly funny, but it seems too enamored with its own supposed daring, making an awkward leap from mildly intriguing to tiresomely hysterical. Sweeney, whose intentions may be sincere, ultimately miscalculates, fumbling toward a shallow resolution that dulls whatever spark the premise promised.

By the end, Twinless can’t conceal its shortage of ideas, and its early twists fail to justify the journey. What might have been an incisive exploration of grief and identity instead collapses into triviality, half-serious and half-baked.

Manas (2025)

Direction: Marianna Brennand
Country: Brazil 

Debut filmmaker Marianna Brennand co-wrote and directed Manas, a raw, devastating, and deeply somber drama film that lays bare impaired family ties and cruel, traumatic adolescence in the isolated city of Marajó in Brazil’s Amazon region. The story sheds light on an abominable reality, examining cycles of family dysfunction that give rise to a different kind of horror.

We follow 13-year-old Marcielle (Jamilli Correa), who abruptly loses her innocence and trust after confronting sexual abuse within her own family. What’s most harrowing is the collective silence that surrounds her: relatives, church members, and the broader community are all aware of the crimes yet choose to look away.

The subject matter alone is emotionally shattering, but Brennand amplifies its impact through stark, eloquent imagery that speaks louder than words. The setting’s haunting isolation makes everything feel even more suffocating and real.

Measured in pace but unrelenting in power, this quietly distressing film is revolting, heartbreaking, and profoundly compelling. It’s not an easy watch, but Manas is an essential one—an urgent act of courage by a fearless filmmaker, carried by performances of striking emotional truth.

Splitsville (2025)

Direction: Michael Angelo Covino
Country: USA

As in his directorial debut The Climb (2019), American filmmaker Michael Angelo Covino directs, co-produces, and stars in Splitsville, a screwball-inspired comedy bursting with manic energy. Shot in just 24 days, the film follows the emotional whiplash, romantic chaos, and skeptical musings of two married couples—played by Dakota Johnson, Adria Arjona, Kyle Marvin (in his second collaboration with Covino), and Covino himself. 

At once cruel and silly, Splitsville unfolds as an overwrought carousel of breakups and reconciliations, gradually losing traction in its final act as the narrative grows too chaotic and emotionally volatile to sustain. It only truly sparkles in flashes—the standout being a ferocious, unbroken fight sequence between the two male best friends—yet much of it feels in need of a rougher edge and more air to breathe.

Covino wants to transgress but never finds his way to something convincing and original. The discombobulated love stories are marred by a thin script with nothing particularly interesting to say. I felt no connection with the characters, and none of the leads bring anything special to the film. Believability really goes out the window here, and Splitsville might have been easier to take if it were less infatuated with its own cleverness.

A Little Prayer (2025)

Direction: Angus MacLachlan
Country: USA

From Junebug (2005) writer Angus MacLachlan comes A Little Prayer, a bittersweet meditation on family, faith, and fracture. The film portrays the delicate dynamics within an American family with more seriousness than humor, revealing a humanity so genuine that its imperfections feel wholly forgivable.

The rigorously streamlined scrip follows Bill Brass (David Strathairn), a veteran and successful metal-sheet company owner who is very fond of his kindhearted daughter-in-law, Tammy (Jane Levy). He gets consumed by distress when he finds out that his alcoholic son, David (Will Pullen), is having an affair with one of his employees. His sense of stability unravels when he discovers that his troubled, alcoholic son, David (Will Pullen), is having an affair with one of his employees. At the same time, his emotionally fragile daughter, Patti (Anna Camp), returns home after another quarrel with her drug-dealer husband. Strathairn’s quiet dignity makes Bill’s private anguish palpable, while Celia Weston brings warmth and gentle humor as his wife, Venida.

A Little Prayer is a sincere, heartfelt, and beautifully restrained drama. Its format might feel familiar, but this is an affecting story that brings an emotional specificity to each scene. Balancing heartache and grace, the film captures the tragic and the beautiful facets of family life with rare empathy and control.

Caught Stealing (2025)

Direction: Darren Aronofsky
Country: USA

After three consecutive misfires—Noah (2014), Mother! (2017), and The Whale (2022)—Darren Aronofsky makes a striking comeback with Caught Stealing, a period black-comedy crime thriller of the highest order that leaves you shaken yet utterly captivated. 

Effectively capturing the anxious tribulations of New York’s Lower East Side during the late ’90s, the film adapts Charlie Huston’s 2004 novel with a nod to Scorsese’s After Hours (1985), following Hank Thompson (Austin Butler), a former baseball player turned bartender and die-hard Giants fan who finds himself entangled with Russian mobsters and dirty money. It marks Aronofsky’s ninth feature in 27 years — and the first chapter of a planned trilogy.

Aronofsky’s touch is unmistakable in the kinetic camerawork, gritty atmosphere, and underground allure. A vivid 1990s texture emerges through graffiti-covered walls, seedy bars, punk aesthetics, vintage cars, and worn city façades. The director populates this world with a gallery of characters that are worthy of your time due to their idiosyncrasies. They are the real magic of the film. 

Backed by a stellar cast and razor-sharp script, Caught Stealing is also wickedly funny. Liev Schreiber and Vincent D’Onofrio are uproarious as a pair of Hasidic hitmen, while the ruthless Russian thugs exude genuine menace. Wild Chinatown chases and gunfights in smoky underground bars unfold to the pounding soundtrack of British post-punk band Idles. Longtime collaborator Matthew Libatique once again delivers striking cinematography, capturing the city’s feverish claustrophobia with precision.

Revisiting his recurring themes—addiction, violence, and downcasts—Aronofsky reinvents himself with electrifying confidence. Caught Stealing promises a bloody good time, and it delivers — cerebrally, cinematically, and without compromise.

Suze (2025)

Direction: Dane Clark, Linsey Stewart
Country: Canada

Married couple Dane Clark and Linsey Stewart’s sophomore feature, Suze, is a smartly observed excavation of dependent single parenthood, middle-aged crisis, conflicted choices, and the unfulfilled expectations of youth.

Super-protective single mother Susan (Michaela Watkins), navigating the challenges of perimenopause, finds herself adrift when her daughter Brooke (Sara Waisglass) leaves home to attend university in Montreal. To her dismay, she unexpectedly maintains contact with Brooke’s blunt, unfiltered boyfriend, Gage (Charlie Gillespie), whom she can barely tolerate.

Flawed yet sympathetic, Suze is intimately aligned with its topics, hitting the sweet spot between awkward and affecting. Clark and Stewart’s sharp understanding of their characters’ inner lives makes the film consistently engaging, even when dealing with uncomfortable truths. Watkins delivers one of her most rounded performances, finding humor and heart in Susan’s vulnerability, while the film’s charming attention to small details makes the film easy to watch and like. 

If there’s one minor irritation, it’s how often the title name is repeated throughout — but even that can’t dull the film’s gentle wit and emotional honesty.

Highest 2 Lowest (2025)

Direction: Spike Lee
Country: USA 

Based on Akira Kurosawa’s High and Low (1963), Highest 2 Lowest marks another misguided adaptation from Spike Lee, following his failed take on Oldboy (2013). It reunites him with Denzel Washington after 19 years, their last collaboration being Inside Man (2006), preceded by Mo’ Better Blues (1990), Malcolm X (1992), and He Got Game (1998). 

The story centers on David King (Washington), a Bronx-born music mogul whose life spirals when his teenage son, Trey (Aubrey Joseph), is kidnapped for a ransom of $17.5 million. Screenwriter Alan Fox transplants Kurosawa’s tale into the American music industry, touching on themes of friendship, family, moral dilemma, and career. Yet the staging is so deficient and uninspired that the film never rises above mediocrity.

Undercutting the drama is a faulty score by Howard Drossin and Fergus McCreadie, which consistently fails to heighten tension, alongside an unappealing soundtrack featuring tracks by ASAP Rocky (who also stars) and Jensen McRae. The lone exception is a live performance by the late Latin-jazz pianist Eddie Palmieri, whose rendition of “Puerto Rico” stands out as a poignant posthumous tribute.

Instead of three-dimensional characters, Highest 2 Lowest gives us wax ones with zero chemistry. Nobody is really stepping outside their comfort zones. Therefore, when you should be clenching your fists with emotion, you only end up shrugging as everything seems unnaturally staged. 

Dragged out over two-plus formulaic hours, the film underscores Lee’s vertiginous decline. He has never made films in a predictable way, but here he is once again a hostage of his own misconceptions.

Honey Don't! (2025)

Direction: Ethan Coen
Country: USA

Ethan Coen’s second solo directorial effort, Honey Don’t!, is a pedestrian neo-noir detective comedy weighed down by a basic script and textbook psychology. Co-written with Tricia Cooke, the film never rises above mediocrity, depleted of suspense and rarely funny. Its posture convinces some they’re having a good time, but in reality it offers only sex and murder dressed up as a ridiculous masquerade of mass entertainment.

The plot follows Honey Donohue (Margaret Qualley), a small-town private investigator and self-assured lesbian who takes on the case of a murdered woman linked to a spiteful cult church led by the lustful Reverend Drew Devlin (Chris Evans). Along the way, Honey enters a torrid relationship with police officer MG Falcone (Aubrey Plaza) while juggling unresolved family issues.

Every step in this machinery feels awkwardly glued together; the more one expects, the less it delivers. The film plays like a slapdash first draft masquerading as finished work, a violent comedy that becomes a parody of itself. Like his solo debut Drive-Away Dolls (2024), this effort delays Coen’s affirmation as a strong filmmaker and storyteller apart from his brother. Qualley seems more engaged than the material deserves, while Evans fails to convince.

Dracula: A Love Tale (2025)

Direction: Luc Besson
Country: France

With Dracula: A Love Tale, Luc Besson (Léon: The Professional, 1994; The Fifth Element, 1997) reunites with actor Caleb Landry-Jones—whom he directed in Dogman (2023)—to offer a winsome new angle and deeply personal update on Bram Stoker’s novel. Boasting visceral imagery, the film follows Prince Vlad (Landry-Jones) across four centuries after he renounces God for failing to save his beloved wife (Zoë Bleu). Transformed into Count Dracula, an implacable vampire, his only wish is to reunite with the love of his life. A Paris-based German priest (Christoph Waltz) seems to be the only man capable of converting him back to light, but at a steep price.

Occasionally wild and permanently dark, the film thrusts us into the past with an ambitious script, slick direction, and strong performances from an international cast. Besson shows greater interest in the characters’ emotional entanglements than in rigid narrative fidelity or gothic stereotypes. His hybrid approach even finds room for unexpected sword and gun fights.

Taking bold steps, Besson—whose filmography has often been uneven—feels strikingly at ease in this fantastic-mystical register. His vision is elevated by Danny Elfman’s powerful score, Colin Wandersman’s sumptuous cinematography, and breathtaking sets and costumes. This Dracula surrenders to love with such fervor that the quest itself becomes his true damnation. Managing to rise above similarly themed films, Besson’s take should please almost everyone—except, perhaps, the most devoted Stoker purists.

40 Acres (2025)

Direction: R.T. Thorne
Country: Canada

40 Acres is a gnarly, slightly cynical thriller executed with precision but ultimately short on impact. Co-writer and debut director R.T. Thorne delivers a well-crafted film that nevertheless could have used a few more daring ideas and a sharper edge of imagination to fully succeed.

Set in post-apocalyptic Canada, the story follows the Freemans, a Black farming family determined to defend their fertile land from outsiders and cannibal raiders. Their rule is simple: ‘trust no one, and mercilessly annihilate trespassers. Lurking beneath the blood and grit is a pointed social critique—land ownership and theft—since the Freemans are both African-American and Native, while the marauding invaders are predominantly white men. 

Despite this intriguing layer, everything in 40 Acres feels carefully telegraphed, playing into the familiar rhythms of survivalist cinema we’ve seen countless times. The film raises stakes, develops threats, and maintains its grim tone with consistency, yet rarely ignites with urgency or surprise. In its attempt to flesh out character backstories, it sometimes loses focus, slipping into routines that blunt the tension.