The Baltimorons (2025)

Direction: Jay Duplass
Country: USA

The Baltimorons is an unremarkable romantic comedy that aims for naturalistic acting and wry observation but never quite delivers enough of either. It follows a familiar path, relying on a type of humor that feels more lowbrow than genuinely engaging. Set in Baltimore, the film follows newly sober comedian Cliff (co-writer Michael Strassner), who inadvertently spends Christmas Eve with his emergency dentist, Didi (Liz Larsen). 

Jay Duplass (The Puffy Chair, 2005; Jeff Who Lives at Home, 2011) directs and co-writes a film whose biggest flaw is its inability to generate real sympathy for its characters. The whole enterprise feels somewhat stagey, if mostly harmless, hinging on a discouraging plot that is neither sharp nor eccentric enough to spark real interest. With narrative ups and downs drifting along to the sound of jazz waltzes, The Baltimorons is occasionally charming but ultimately a rather shallow, low-key rom-com featuring characters who deserve more exploration and depth than they are given. Highly uneven and oddly weighted, this love letter to Baltimore arrives with diminishing returns.

I Swear (2025)

Direction: Kirk Jones
Country: UK

I Swear depicts the true story of John Davidson, a Scottish man first diagnosed with Tourette syndrome—a condition that can cause involuntary swearing, spitting, and gestural tics—at the age of 12. Written and directed by Kirk Jones (Waking Ned Devine, 1998; Everybody’s Fine, 2009), the film follows Davidson’s path from his difficult teenage years into adulthood, when he decides to help others living with this exhausting and often misunderstood neurological disorder.

Sometimes hilarious, sometimes sad—but always with a big heart—I Swear is a noble and worthwhile effort that still struggles with a somewhat heavy-handed script. This mildly likable drama, occasionally frustrating yet equally rewarding, feels more educational and encouraging than truly exciting as a viewing experience. English actor Robert Aramayo immerses himself so completely in the role that his performance feels refreshingly unforced. He is the soul of a film that informs while also managing to please audiences.

Rebuilding (2025)

Direction: Max Walker-Silverman
Country: USA

Rebuilding is a melancholy, heartbreaking neo-western drama marked by deliberate pacing and a hopeful, emotionally resonant conclusion. Simple, sincere, and deeply human, it follows Dusty (Josh O’Connor), a divorced cowboy and father who loses his family ranch to a devastating wildfire in southern Colorado. Temporarily living in a trailer community at a government-run campsite with other dispossessed landowners, Dusty finds support in his neighbors and in his ex-wife Ruby (Meghann Fahy). His once busy days suddenly become heavy with anguish and inertia.

Some films take their time laying out the story and settling over the audience. This is one of them. Yet, thanks to Max Walker-Silverman’s focused and sensitive direction, as well as the impressive naturalness of the gifted and much sought-after Josh O’Connor—who recently stood out in Kelly Reichardt’s The Mastermind—the result is an emotionally charged account that never feels manipulative, transcending the sappier trappings of the genre. There is plenty of aching nuance, but the film remains generous and entirely legible in its sorrow.

This complexity of feeling, paired with formal sumptuousness, translates into deeply ingrained sadness but also genuine uplift as events shift toward cautious hope and new opportunity. Capturing more than just lavish backdrops and romantic sentimentality, Rebuilding is a tolerant, poetic, and realistic work that earns its place in contemporary American cinema.

Pillion (2026)

Direction: Harry Lighton
Country: UK / Ireland 

Harry Lighton’s confident feature debut, Pillion, adapts Adam Mars-Jones’s 2020 novel Box Hill, telling the story of an introverted, openly gay man (Harry Melling) who becomes the submissive companion of a seductive biker (Alexander Skarsgård), who turns him into a servant and sexual object. He accepts this role willingly until, one day, everything shifts. Lighton also draws inspiration from Kenneth Anger’s experimental short film Scorpio Rising (1963).

Relatively simple in concept but complex in detail, Pillion portrays an atypical relationship in which brutality and tenderness coexist. It is a well-written, carefully constructed, shape-shifting work guided by powerful, pitch-perfect performances from Melling and Skarsgård, both of whom excel in the face of demanding material.

Evocatively transgressive and unexpected, the convincing scenes accumulate emotional impact. Some elements are intentionally left unspoken, requiring the viewer to read between the lines of the characters’ behavior. This is neither a conventional crowd-pleaser nor a traditional romance, but something more unusual and less familiar. Lighton’s approach replaces sentimentality with mordancy, while razor-sharp wit appears in measured, well-timed doses. It makes a striking dramatic statement, boldly peculiar in nature, much like its characters.

Although not for everyone, Pillion is determined to be candid, boundary-pushing, and entertaining, weaving a carefully balanced dynamic that is controlled by neither character.

The Voice of Hind Rajab (2025)

Direction: Kaouther Ben Hania
Country: Tunisia / France

The third feature by Tunisian filmmaker Kaouther Ben Hania (Beauty and the Dogs, 2017; The Man Who Sold His Skin, 2020) is a powerful docudrama centered on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It chillingly portrays the assassination of six-year-old Palestinian girl Hind Rajab, who becomes trapped in a bullet-riddled car surrounded by Israeli tanks. Six members of her family died that day, as well as two paramedics who went to her rescue.

With this low-budget, oppressive, adrenaline-filled thriller, you are in for a few surprises. It is an enthralling examination and recreation of a horrific true event to which no one should remain indifferent. The concept is not new, but the horror and claustrophobia are deeply felt, with the film following stressed Red Crescent volunteers at a call center, desperately trying to save the wounded girl while navigating strict and complex protocols that, when they fail, intensify anguish, frustration, and emotional volatility.

Minimalist and focused, The Void of Hind Rajab hooks the viewer until the very last minute. We never leave the call center, we never see the victims, and yet the film sustains terrifying suspense. It is a war film without weapons and, simultaneously, a cry for peace. The real voice of young Rajab is used, amplifying tension and emotion, though some scenes feel overly staged. Ben Hania confronts us with the tragedy of war and our powerlessness in the face of such inhuman brutality.

The Secret Agent (2025)

Direction: Kleber Mendonça Filho
Country: Brazil

Largely written in France and entirely shot in Brazil, The Secret Agent is Kleber Mendonça Filho’s depiction of 1977 Brazil during politically turbulent times. The director of Neighboring Sounds (2012), Aquarius (2016), and Bacurau (2019) had already left a strong impression on me, and now—through an intelligent, absorbing political thriller that plays with genre conventions—confirms his remarkable ability to create memorable cinema.

Hiding under the name Marcelo, widower and former professor Armando Solimões (Wagner Moura) flees a troubled past and a series of death threats by escaping to Recife, where he reconnects with his in-laws and his son. He is welcomed by Dona Sebastiana (Tania Maria) and the circle of political dissidents she shelters in her home. Forbidden from leaving Brazil and placed on a federal blacklist, Armando needs protection from his own country and from the ruthless engineer Enrique Ghirotti (Luciano Chirolli), who hires two hitmen to track him down.

The story embraces a certain opacity, with its pieces unfolding gradually and confidently through a blend of dark and luminous tones. All the answers are eventually revealed, ensuring a clear sense of closure. Even when deliberately fragmented, The Secret Agent imposes its own rhythm, exposing an extraordinary scope and atmosphere with undeniable force. The opening scene—tense and gripping—immediately signals the corruption and unorthodox witch-hunt tactics employed by Brazilian authorities in the 1970s.

With Filho’s razor-sharp direction and actors fully inhabiting their roles, the film illustrates how absolute power and systemic corruption can corrode an entire country through lies, greed, and violence. It becomes less a conventional spy film than an ode to memory and to life’s persistence in the face of fear, despite what the title might suggest. Exquisitely assembled, The Secret Agent looks and sounds authentic to its period, while resonating with the present in many ways through a restrained, unfussy approach.

Marty Supreme (2025)

Direction: Josh Safdie
Country: USA

Writer-director Josh Safdie’s fascination with flawed characters and shady worlds finds a natural outlet in Marty Supreme, a sports drama set in 1950s New York and inspired by a book by Marty Reisman, the city’s table tennis prodigy. After portraying Bob Dylan with distinction in A Complete Unknown (2024), 29-year-old French-American actor Timothée Chalamet—who also produces—stars as ping-pong player Marty Mauser in a wild tale of boundless ambition. Boisterous and relentlessly driven, Mauser, even when financially compromised, is determined to get to Tokyo at any cost to defeat his former Japanese opponent in a tense revenge match.

Boasting an organic structure and lively dialogue, the film is powered by impetuous, effective editing and flows with an ironic tone that occasionally brushes against the absurd. That doesn’t mean Marty Supreme lacks standout moments. It is bolstered by a terrific soundtrack (including New Order, Alphaville, and Tears for Fears) and bursts of visual invention. The film is a genuine cinematic experience, imaginatively told and brimming with striking energy, much of it drawn from ping-pong matches staged with remarkable intensity.

Safdie pushes the pace hard, and the actors keep up. At times, less might have been more, as the relentless intensity can become tiring, but Marty Supreme still delivers a compelling character study rich in unexpected twists, humor, and narrative momentum. It’s a blast to spend time with this rousing film: not Safdie’s most atypical work, but perhaps his most immediately accessible and funny.

Peter Hujar's Day (2025)

Direction: Ira Sachs
Country: USA 

Based on Linda Rosenkrantz’s book drawn from a 1974 interview she conducted with photographer Peter Hujar in her apartment, Peter Hujar’s Day recounts not only his activities during the previous day in New York but also sheds light on his inner life, emotions, and temperament. This chatty, experimental two-hander heightens intimacy between interviewer and subject, buoyed by finely attuned performances from Ben Whishaw and Rebecca Hall. Through dialogue alone, it vividly evokes the energy of New York City’s 1970s art scene.

Ira Sachs—known for films such as Love Is Strange (2014), Little Men (2016), and Passages (2023)—approaches the material with an informal, almost documentary-like directness. Yet, Peter Hujar’s Day doesn’t crackle with overt excitement and often seems content simply to invoke figures like Allen Ginsberg, Fran Lebowitz, Susan Sontag, and Peter Orlovsky. Whether that is enough depends largely on the viewer’s mood and their interest in the subject matter.

Set entirely within a confined space, the film nonetheless allows for a few subtle surprises to emerge from its corners. Ultimately, it is Whishaw and Hall who hold everything together, giving the dialogue its weight, rhythm, and emotional grounding.

Roofman (2025)

Direction: Derek Cianfrance
Country: USA

Roofman tells the true story of Jeffrey Manchester (Channing Tatum), an Army veteran and romantic crook who robbed more than 40 McDonald’s restaurants with the primary intention of providing for his three children. Nicknamed Roofman for his preferred method of entry—drilling through restaurant roofs—Manchester is portrayed as polite and charming, a figure who intrigues more than he repels. While on the run, he lived hidden inside a Toys “R” Us store for six months, during which he fell for Leigh (Kirsten Dunst), a sympathetic employee and single mother.

The film marks the sixth feature by Derek Cianfrance (Blue Valentine, 2010; The Place Beyond the Pines, 2012; The Sound of Metal, 2020), who co-wrote the screenplay with Kirt Gunn. It unfolds with a deliberately goofy posture, shaped as a crowd-pleasing parody. Some scenes linger too long, creating a sense of stagnation, while others are lightly amusing and charmingly clumsy in an offbeat way. Although the crime narrative feels somewhat tired and shallow at its core, Roofman manages to land a handful of mildly funny moments driven by a basic dramatic instinct.

Tatum proves to be a solid casting choice, skillfully balancing Manchester’s gentle intentions with his criminal behavior, always teetering on a razor’s edge. The romantic subplot carries a bittersweet tone, though the stakes never feel particularly high, leaving the overall experience short on memorability.

Even as the narrative settles into a familiar rhythm, Cianfrance’s approach retains a certain artfulness. He and Tatum deliver an acceptable, if not especially original, piece of work.

Urchin (2025)

Direction: Harris Dickinson
Country: UK

Urchin, a pungent and desolate drama written and directed by debutant Harris Dickinson, confronts the trauma of abandonment, homelessness, and the brutal cycles of addiction and relapse with a realistic, sensitive touch. Unpolished by design and deliberately loose in structure, this compelling tale offers a painfully accurate portrait of addiction and failed rehabilitation. It rings true largely thanks to a fearless performance by Frank Dillane, who makes it unmistakably clear that surviving as a homeless junkie is an exhausting, corrosive existence. He carries the film on his back with gritty conviction, anchoring a work that may be rough around the edges but remains intoxicating absorbing.

Dillane plays Michael Wiltshire, a volatile drug abuser drifting through Dalston, East London, who violently assaults a man trying to help him. Following his release from jail, Michael is offered second chances and encounters new people who briefly suggest the possibility of change. But whether he can find happiness, stability, or even a sense of purpose remains painfully uncertain. What makes the character so unsettling is how Michael appears paradoxically both in love with and repelled by his own impulses and self-destructive behavior.

Urchin avoids the trappings of dour social realism, yet it does not flinch from exposing the devastating toll drugs take on individuals and those around them. Merciless and unsettling, it is a tightly focused indie drama perfectly scaled to the towering performance at its center. Dickinson announces himself as a filmmaker worth watching, and Dillane confirms a formidable talent whose future work deserves close attention.

Ballad of a Small Player (2025)

Direction: Edward Berger
Country: USA

From Conclave’s Swiss-Austrian director Edward Berger, Ballad of a Small Player is an adaptation of Lawrence Osborne’s 2014 novel of the same name. Not a groundbreaking work, this oddly psychological gambling drama oscillates between reality and fantasy, carrying a faint but persistent aura of supernatural eeriness.

Colin Farrell stars as Lord Doyle, a ruthless gambler with a battered conscience who heads to the gambling mecca of Macau in a desperate attempt to manage his mounting debts. The situation is increasingly dire, yet the stubbornly optimistic Doyle refuses to surrender, especially after meeting Dao Ming (Fala Chen), a lonely woman working at the casino where he plays. What he cannot escape, however, is Betty Grayson (Tilda Swinton), a private detective and debt collector who knows far too much about his murky past.

Berger is unafraid to take big swings, staging sharp contrasts between moments of crushing despair and others of intoxicating invincibility and ecstasy. Farrell embodies this compulsive risk-taker with such uncompromised honesty that his performance can only be called courageous. Still, some of Doyle’s actions remain deliberately opaque, leaving the viewer suspended in a state of ambiguity that is both intriguing and occasionally exasperating.

Drenched in saturated colors and striking, vivid imagery, and populated by a few characters that verge on the cartoonish, Ballad of a Small Player is far from Berger’s strongest effort. Alongside Conclave (2024), his filmography includes Jack (2014) and All Quiet on the Western Front (2022). Yet this film retains its share of compelling moments. Presented as a nightmarish, old-fashioned character study, it probes the tension-fueled psyche of addiction before drifting toward ideas of redemption and lost love. The film never quite coheres as a whole, and its twists are unlikely to astonish, but Farrell remains a constant source of fascination. Once you surrender to its rhythm, it’s a film that carries you along, unevenly but smoothly.

Dreams (2025)

Direction: Dag Johan Haugerud
Country: Norway

Dreams is the second installment in a film trilogy by Norwegian filmmaker Dag Johan Haugerud. This feminist coming-of-age manifesto follows Sex (2024) and precedes Love (2024), exploring themes of love, sexuality, and family dynamics through a blend of first desire and literary awakening. It offers a refreshingly different perspective on teenage angst, examining the fleeting ecstasies and quiet disillusions of a 17-year-old high school student (Ella Øverbye) who falls in love with her female French teacher (Selome Emnetu). She channels her emotions into vivid writing, which unexpectedly earns the attention and encouragement of her mother (Ane Dahl Torp) and grandmother (Anne Marit Jacobsen).

Although the film carries the lightness one might expect from the genre, Haugerud keeps the material grounded and quietly captivating, shaping characters who display an unusual degree of emotional maturity. His approach to the subject is gentle and thoughtful, and the romantic connection is never overstated. Instead, it unfolds as a recollected experience, mediated by a restrained, almost immobilizing voice-over that preserves its fragility.

At times honest and even sensual, this intimate confession recalls the romantic sensibility of Éric Rohmer’s love tales, generating empathy through the careful plausibility that permeates every scene. Dreams stands as a cohesive and rewarding work, buoyed by the performers’ natural charisma and its willingness to incorporate unexpected elements into a tender meditation on first love, fantasy, and the gradual process of growing up and moving on.

The Mysterious Gaze of the Flamingo (2025)

Direction: Diego Céspedes
Country: Chile / France / other

Chilean writer-director Diego Céspedes’s feature debut, The Mysterious Gaze of the Flamingo, is an anemic blend of turbulent coming-of-age drama, social critique, and revenge tale—a film that may have its heart in the right place but ultimately lacks soul. Inflected with Latin and Western motifs, this well-intentioned yet frequently slippery work leans on scenes that tend to lyricize rather than persuade. While foregrounding the terrifying intersections of love, illness, and prejudice, it follows 12-year-old Lidia (Tamara Cortés), the daughter of Flamingo (Matías Catalán), one of the travestis who live and work at a queer bar run by Mama Boa (Paula Dinamarca) in a desert mining town in northern Chile in 1982. As miners begin falling ill and dying from a mysterious plague—none other than AIDS—the community convinces itself that the disease is transmitted through the travestis’ gaze.

Conceived as an anti-machismo statement and shot in a square frame, the film oscillates between violence and sentimentality, flamboyance and sorrow. It portrays an atrocious reality, yet never fully capitalizes on its creative potential. Even as it veers away from mainstream formulas, Céspedes’s work is too loosely handled, relying on a narrative strategy that exhausts itself prematurely.

Coarse, titillating, and hopelessly uneven, The Mysterious Gaze of the Flamingo finds its strongest asset in its stark desert setting and period atmosphere. The tone—simultaneously campy and off-kilter—ultimately leaves little lasting impression, while the story drags and steadily erodes the film’s overall effectiveness. In the end, one is left more appreciative of what Céspedes is attempting to do than of what he actually achieves on screen.

If I Had Legs I'd Kick You (2025)

Direction: Mary Bronstein
Country: USA 

There is much to admire in If I Had Legs I’d Kick You, a dark comedy steeped in irony about a sleep-deprived psychotherapist spiraling under the weight of alcohol, drugs, and emotional distress. An absent husband who works as a ship captain, a gravely ill daughter undergoing a demanding and complicated treatment, and a gaping hole in her apartment ceiling conspire to make Linda’s life increasingly unmanageable. Played with ferocious commitment by Rose Byrne, Linda is forced to relocate temporarily to a nondescript motel, a move that only sharpens her emotional volatility and neglectful tendencies.

The film’s inventive situations consistently land with force, sustaining an impressive level of engagement throughout. On one hand, the tone is bleak and disconsolate; on the other, it is hyper-tense, wildly unhinged, and unexpectedly fun to watch. There is a fearless energy to this plunge into the abyss, offering moments of audacity that far more expensive productions would envy.

Though the narrative itself is relatively straightforward, the execution is anything but. Writer-director Mary Bronstein’s vision is bleak, provocative, and uncompromising, yet remarkably assured. Through an intelligent and cathartic orchestration of anxieties, she dissects toxic routines, irresponsibility, and emotional neglect, anchoring the film in themes of female rage, psychological unraveling, and the isolating realities of motherhood.

Often associated with lighter, forgettable comedies such as Spy (2015) or Bridesmaids (2011), Rose Byrne seizes the opportunity to reveal a far more daring and commanding range. She is riveting from beginning to end, fully inhabiting a character whose volatility feels both frightening and painfully real. Fueled by a sharp, bubbling script, If I Had Legs I’d Kick You bursts with flavors that unsettle, delight, and excite. It is an ambitious, ultimately fascinating mess that feels raw and authentic, slowly working its way under your skin. Viewers drawn to pungent, psychologically offbeat dramas will find much to savor in this fluid, slightly bruised, irresistibly skewed, and deliciously nightmarish experience.

Nuremberg (2025)

Direction: James Vanderbilt
Country: USA

Written, directed, and co-produced by James Vanderbilt (Truth, 2015), Nuremberg plunges into the aftermath of World War II, dramatizing the historic trial initiated by the Allied forces following the collapse of the Nazi regime in 1945. Adapted from Jack El-Hai’s essay The Nazi and the Psychiatrist, the film draws on the personal archives and writings of Douglas Kelley, the American psychiatrist tasked with evaluating the mental state of the 22 defendants awaiting judgment. 

Kelley is portrayed by Rami Malek, who feels miscast here, lacking the authority and charisma the role demands. By contrast, Russell Crowe delivers a commanding and unsettling performance as Germany official Hermann Göring, capturing the character’s narcissism and manipulative intelligence with chilling precision. Michael Shannon appears in a restrained supporting role as Justice Robert H. Jackson, the chief U.S. prosecutor determined to hold the Nazi leadership accountable for their crimes.

Undermined by uneven pacing and an overly heavy-handed directorial approach, Nuremberg tells an undeniably important chapter of history, but not in a particularly compelling way. The film suffers from a troubling lack of nuance and dramatic tension, never rising beyond a tepid simmer. While competently shot, its methodical assembly of scenes grows monotonous, evoking the feel of a dutiful, moderately polished Hollywood production rather than the urgency and moral weight such subject matter demands. The visual polish contrasts starkly with an emotional core that feels bland and inert, and the narrative rarely ventures beyond what is expected.

At times artificial, at others overtly sentimental, this historical-by-numbers drama never quite finds the path to grandeur or resonance. A a firmer grasp of the material was needed to elevate it beyond respectable mediocrity.

The Mastermind (2025)

Direction: Kelly Reichardt
Country: USA

Directed by the acclaimed Kelly Reichardt (Certain Women, 2016; Showing Up, 2022), whose approach often feels refreshingly removed from convention, The Mastermind is a charming, atmospheric crime thriller infused with subtle humor. Set in Massachusetts in 1970, the story casts Josh O’Connor as an indolent family man turned naive art thief on the run.

Airily layered, the film burns quietly but steadily, exuding a poignant, dark, Robert Altman–esque sensibility. It greatly benefits from Rob Mazurek’s outstanding jazz score—he doubles on piano and trumpet, complemented by tasteful solo drum figures and shimmering cymbal work—and from the gorgeous ’70s texture captured by cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt, who collaborates with Reichardt here for the sixth time. 

The director’s simple, patient, and direct approach once again proves fruitful, resulting in another subtle yet assured film that largely succeeds through the natural, unforced presence of its lead performance.

Simmering without boiling, The Mastermind peels off the surfaces of old-school heist genre, smartly avoiding commonplace, complacency, and demagogy to achieve something truly moody and dusky. While the character's psychology is intriguing, the story and context are subtlety anchored in consistency, rigor, and a deliberate rhythm that catches, almost without words, the sensation of someone who, once lost, seems condemned to the unfathomable pain of permanent solitude. The unforeseeable finale is strikingly ironic in both tone and perspective.

With aesthetics perfectly attuned to its subject, this is another authentic-feeling narrative that further enriches Reichardt’s singular filmography.

Sentimental Value (2025)

Direction: Joachim Trier
Country: Norway

Danish-Norwegian filmmaker Joachim Trier (Oslo, 31 August, 2011; The Worst Person in the World, 2021) returns with another compelling drama, co-written with his regular collaborator Eskil Vogt. Sentimental Value is a film about paternal estrangement that goes well beyond that premise. It unfolds as an accomplished, Bergman-esque portrait of a family in decline, carrying a particular sensitivity toward film and theater as emotional and narrative frameworks.

Absent for far too many years, renowned filmmaker Gustav Borg (Stellan Skarsgård) inadvertently re-enters the lives of his daughters—Nora (Renate Reinsve) and Agnes (Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas)—after their mother’s death. Nora, a theater actress, is deeply scarred by a cruel past, living with feelings of abandonment, depression, and insecurity that stem from her parents’ separation. Agnes, married and with a young son, is calmer and far less confrontational. When Nora refuses to take part in Gustav’s new film—written specifically for her—he turns instead to an American actress, Rachel Kemp (Elle Fanning), who struggles to find her footing within the script.

Sentimental Value achieves a rare blend of art and life, where powerful emotions surface within a crystal-clear mise-en-scène. Trier’s direction is marked by confidence and precision, while the actors’ remarkable presence and naturalness anchor the film, shaping complex relationships rich in nuance. This is family drama at its most quietly devastating, sustaining a strong dramatic integrity as its characters grapple with unresolved pain and buried resentment.

The narrative—thoughtfully built through calibrated dialogue—flows with such ease that its underlying complexity can almost go unnoticed. A single gesture often speaks louder than words, with each frame serving to deepen our understanding of the characters. It stands as a touching, mature work of fiction grounded in reality, driven by the invisible bonds that continue to hold us together, even when fractured.

Die My Love (2025)

Direction: Lynne Ramsay
Country: USA 

This raw, startlingly honest effort by Scottish filmmaker Lynne Ramsay (Ratcatcher, 1999; We Need to Talk About Kevin, 2011; You Were Never Really Here, 2017) comes charged with fury, following a young mother—superbly portrayed by Jennifer Lawrence—grappling with mental health struggles and postnatal depression. Set in rural Montana, the story unfolds across two time frames, incorporating flashbacks that gradually deepen our understanding of the character’s fragile psychological state.

Die My Love, both painful and exquisite, carries nuance and complexity even in its seemingly blunt title. It is a small yet shattering adult drama that plunges the viewer into a suffocating, harrowing psychosis that appears to offer no clear way out. Based on the 2012 novel of the same name by Argentine writer Ariana Harwicz, the film was co-produced by Martin Scorsese and co-stars Robert Pattinson, Sissy Spacek, and Nick Nolte.

Creatively shot, Die My Love demonstrates keen visual intelligence in service of a compelling narrative that foregrounds boredom, loneliness, and pervasive unhappiness. It leaves you powerless and contemplative, drawing the audience into a state of distress that mirrors that of its characters. The emotional impact is profound, offering a compassionate look at the unexplainable intricacies of life that can suddenly unravel everything. This film also stands as a remarkable showcase for Lawrence, who delivers an unparalleled performance. She and the rest of the cast maintain complete control over the material, while Ramsay never condescends to or sentimentalizes the subject.

Jay Kelly (2025)

Direction: Noah Baumbach
Country: USA

Decidedly petty, Jay Kelly is the new feature by Noah Baumbach, who co-wrote it with Emily Mortimer. This comedy-drama follows a famous yet lonely Hollywood actor (George Clooney) who, accompanied by his loyal manager and longtime friend (Adam Sandler), travels through Europe in an attempt to reconnect with himself. Along the way, he visits his indifferent, often rude father (Stacy Keach) and is forced to confront his strained relationships with his two daughters—the traumatized Jessica (Riley Keough) and the more adventurous Daisy (Grace Edwards). If only the film itself didn’t feel so adrift too…

Jay Kelly is built around a series of glittering but hollow exchanges between characters who always look and act like characters. It never seems to have much that is interesting or new to say. Fragile in conception, the film leans heavily on the strength of its cast, which also includes cameo appearances by Laura Dern, Greta Gerwig, and Jim Broadbent.

There are moments of interest when the characters face their own emptiness and limitations, but these are undercut by several irritating, even ridiculous scenes—the train sequence is a complete wreck—that disrupt the pacing and add a sense of frivolous choppiness. For most of its runtime, this uneven Jay Kelly remains diluted in both tension and emotion, while the humor strains for offbeat quirkiness without ever quite getting there.

The film marks the first collaboration between Sandler and Clooney. While Sandler feels confident and grounded, Clooney tends to overact. Still, it’s within their characters’ relationship that the film becomes minimally tolerable. Everything else falls flat, leaving you simply waiting for it to end.

Springsteen: Deliver me From Nowhere (2025)

Direction: Scott Cooper
Country: USA 

Scott Cooper’s adaptation from the book Deliver Me from Nowhere: The Making of Bruce Springteen's Nebraska by Warren Zanes focuses on a very specific period in Springsteen's life, a depressive phase partly motivated by a complicated relationship with an abusive father and a wobbly, reticent romantic affair. Yet, it was a musically creative one, with the musician risking an unorthodox career move that ultimately paid off.

Jeremy Allen White’s much-anticipated turn as Springsteen raises expectations, but neither he nor Cooper ever quite find a rhythm to build upon. The biopic drifts along passively, leaning heavily on Springsteen’s music while failing to draw any real emotional charge from the material. Conventional in approach and stretched well beyond what its thin narrative can sustain, the film remains trapped in bland, repetitive formulas, never daring to push beyond familiar biopic beats.

Cooper’s pacing is leaden, and the film’s narrow focus further limits its scope, sinking into melancholic passages that rarely rise above banality. Enthusiasm is hard to muster, as the overall experience lacks urgency, momentum, and vitality. Despite the suitably retro-flavored cinematography by Cooper’s regular collaborator Masanobu Takayanagi, Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere remains dramatically inert.