An Unfinished Film (2024)

Direction: Lou Ye
Country: China

From Lou Ye, the Chinese filmmaker behind Suzhou River (2000) and Summer Palace (2006), An Unfinished Film is a COVID-era docu-fiction arriving at a time when audiences are weary of the topic. Blending outtakes and behind-the-scenes footage from Ye’s previous works, the film follows a film crew that reunites in a Wuhan hotel to resume a project interrupted a decade ago. However, their plans are derailed as they find themselves trapped under strict government lockdown measures, separated from their families on New Year’s Eve.

At its best, the film effectively conveys the terror and helplessness felt by an entire population. Yet, its overall impact is underwhelming, struggling to develop a compelling narrative with its sluggish pacing. While frustration, paranoia, and isolation are palpable themes, the film never quite taps into their full psychological horror. Additionally, the reliance on mobile phone footage detracts from the experience, contributing to a bland drama that ultimately tests our patience with its predictability and absence of surprises. 

Companion (2025)

Direction: Drew Hancock
Country: USA 

By fusing elements of Ex-Machina, Black Mirror, and M3gan, Companion—a muddled sci-fi comedy thriller with a splash of gore—operates on artificial dramatic energies. Written and directed by Drew Hancock, the film follows a couple—insensitive and tactless Josh (Jack Quaid) and devoted, deeply-in-love Iris (Sophia Thatcher)—on a wild weekend getaway with friends at a remote cabin. Things take a dark turn when it’s revealed that one of them is a companion robot that can shift from vulnerable and needy to intoxicatingly confident and violent.

While Companion isn't a complete misfire, it delivers a middling cinematic experience, favoring familiar concepts over genuine wit and substance. The wobbly and misguided final acts fail to disguise the fact that the film doesn’t live up to its hype, even as it explores the horrors of toxic relationships and the looming ethical dilemmas of AI.

The biggest issue is the relentless sequence of twists, which attempts to keep the film engaging but ultimately feels exhausting. Though there are weird and amusing moments, the predictability and lack of originality reduce them to choppy, repetitive sequences. Despite Thatcher’s committed performance and the film’s fluctuating emotional beats, Companion remains a shaky, average effort devoid of real suspense—an interesting idea bogged down by a literal-minded, mechanical, and somewhat draggy execution.

Souleymane's Story (2024)

Direction: Boris Lojkine
Country: France 

Souleymane’s Story is a well-observed, heartbreaking drama that details an individual human experience with tension. Beautiful in its modesty, the film serves as a wonderful tribute to honest, hard-working migrants striving for a better life beyond their homelands.

At just 93 minutes, Souleymane’s Story builds its emotional power without overstaying its welcome. It pulls all the right strings without ever feeling manipulative, delivering a compelling socio-political message while allowing its characters and situations to unfold naturally.

Souleymane (Abou Sangare) is a former mechanic from Guinea working illegally in Paris as a delivery man. Like many African asylum seekers, he’s completely aware that his upcoming interview—where he will try to convince French authorities of his sad story—will determine his fate. Meanwhile, he’s confronted with many pressures and setbacks coming from different directions. 

Sangare, making his acting debut, is himself an undocumented migrant, mirroring his character’s journey with a rare and heartbreaking authenticity. Captured through raw, handheld camera, his performance radiates intensity, anchoring a film whose aesthetic choices  transcend documentary realism to become something even more urgent and profound. 
Triumphant in every aspect, Boris Lojkine’s third fictional feature is a slap in the face—tense as a thriller and searing in its social commentary. It is a work of rare power and honesty, masterfully blending content and form.

Hypnotically shot by Belgian cinematographer Tristan Galand—whose experience spans both fiction and documentary filmmaking—Souleyman’s Story is a film everyone needs to see. It serves as a powerful reminder of our shared humanity and the need for solidarity. So simple yet so genuine and captivating in all its essence.

I'm Still Here (2024)

Direction: Walter Salles
Country: Brazil

Walter Salles’ I’m Still Here straddles the line between political thriller and family drama, recounting a real-life story set during Brazil’s military dictatorship in the early 1970s. Engineer and former congressman Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello) is arrested at his home by regime enforcers and subsequently vanishes without a trace. His wife, Eunice (Fernanda Torres), is detained and interrogated for several days before being released—only to face the devastating reality that she will never see her husband again. This gripping narrative, brought to life through exceptional filmmaking and deeply committed performances, is all the more chilling because it is true. 

Salles chooses to tell the story from Eunice’s perspective, mirroring the book her son Marcelo wrote about her. The film is not only an exploration of the psychological torture inflicted by a ‘disappearance’ within a family but also an examination of the profound and irreversible changes it triggers in the lives of those left behind. It is difficult not to be moved by the shattering of a once-happy family. Yet, despite its emotional weight, the film could have been more effectively executed.

There is little suspense, even in moments that demand it, and while the story carries undeniable gravitas, it struggles with pacing. Some dragging sequences disrupt what should be a fluid narrative, and it becomes clear early on that I’m Still Here is unlikely to fully take off. The film leans into resilience and emotion but hesitates to push beyond that safe zone.

Torres, an actress of exquisite sensitivity who previously collaborated with Salles in Foreign Land (1995) and Midnight (1998), delivers a formidable performance as Eunice—a woman who transforms into a late-life lawyer and activist. She embodies Eunice’s moral integrity and quiet resistance, shielding her children while enduring immense pressure. Torres’ real-life mother, the legendary Fernanda Montenegro, portrays Eunice in her later years, reuniting with Salles after his acclaimed Central Station (1998).

The film reflects a dark page in Brazilian history, but because it’s too tidy and airtight, it fails to leave much of an impression by remaining in a passive state of subtlety.

Hard Truths (2025)

Direction: Mike Leigh
Country: UK

Written and directed by the great Mike Leigh (Naked, 1993; Vera Drake, 2004), Hard Truths is an acrid contemporary drama that explores depression and bitterness within an African-American family in England. Marked by the pragmatic, unflinching realism that defines much of Leigh’s work, the film centers on Pansy Deacon (Marianne Jean-Baptiste), an unsympathetic, deeply unhappy woman whose life is weighed down by trauma, extreme control, antagonism, and emotional isolation. Lonely, exhausted, and fearful, she makes life unbearable for her hardworking husband, Curtley (David Webber), and their indolent 22-year-old son, Moses (Tuwaine Barrett). The only person who can tolerate Pansy’s abrasive nature is her sister, Chantelle (Michele Austin).

Reuniting with Jean-Baptiste 28 years after Secrets & Lies—Leigh’s Palme d’Or-winning drama—the director presents a toxic home environment with no easy resolution. It’s an intense, at times overwhelming experience, more humiliating than humorous, and grappling with Leigh’s recurring theme: the sheer difficulty of living. Emotional suffocation, unrelenting tension, and pervasive sadness dominate the atmosphere, yet if ever a performance could redeem such bleakness, it is Jean-Baptiste’s.

At times, while carrying his love-it-or-hate-it penchant for directness, Leigh risks alienating the audience from his intent. However, he ensures that every emotional wound is laid bare with sharp clarity, granting his actors the freedom to improvise in a way that heightens the film’s authenticity. The good part is that he’s not afraid to show the ugliest moments of life, doing it without passing judgment.

September 5 (2024)

Direction: Tim Fehlbaum
Country: USA

In September 5, Swiss director Tim Fehlbaum (Tides, 2021) turns his lens to a harrowing event that shook the world of sports in 1972. During the 20th Summer Olympics in Munich, Palestinian terrorists known as Black September took a team of Israeli athletes hostage. Simultaneously, journalists and executives from ABC Sports were forced to interrupt their coverage of the competitions to broadcast the crisis live—a historic moment witnessed by 900 million people worldwide. 

This informative inside-room thriller borders on documentary, meticulously recreating a pivotal moment in television journalism. The film’s attention to detail is striking, particularly in its reconstruction of a fast-paced 1970s TV studio. Yet, it lacks dramatic punch, favoring simmering tension over raw emotion, and appearing slightly below its potential. 

That said, Fehlbaum effectively channels the spirit of 1970s American cinema in a classic way, raising questions about the media’s responsibility in real-time crisis reporting. While the story had the potential for grander impact, it remained somewhat unthrilling, especially for those familiar with the events.

The ensemble cast—including John Magaro, Peter Sarsgaard, Leonie Benesch, and Ben Chaplin—delivers solid performances, though no one truly stands out. Still, the film successfully explores journalistic ethics, weaving moral dilemmas and personal ambitions into its narrative with nuance and objectivity.

Nickel Boys (2024)

Direction: RaMell Ross
Country: USA

Based on Colson Whitehead’s 2019 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, Nickel Boys, is a poignant historical drama directed and co-written by RaMell Ross in his narrative feature debut. The film follows two young Black men struggling to survive the brutal realities of a Florida reformatory school in the 1960s. Inspired by the real-life Nickel Academy—a segregationist institution notorious for its systemic abuse—the story unfolds with a raw, unflinching perspective. 

Presented from a first-person point of view, this tough-minded film thrives on exquisitely composed imagery that both stimulates the senses and piques curiosity. Ross employs a distinct filmmaking intensity, one that encourages viewers not just to watch, but to observe and feel deeply. Echoing the works of Terrence Malick, Charles Burnett, and Barry Jenkins, he approaches youth incarceration with a fiercely personal and devastating lens. 

Not being an easy watch, Nickel Boys offers an impressionistic view of a tragic experience, covering predictable ground with an admirable sense of artistry and a fair dose of sincerity.

A Complete Unknown (2024)

Direction: James Mangold
Country: USA 

James Mangold’s biographical drama A Complete Unknown delves into the early rise of American singer-songwriter Bob Dylan, capturing the transformative years between 1961 and 1966. This pivotal period in Dylan’s ever-evolving career sees him transition from a struggling nomad to a folk hero and ultimately to a groundbreaking rock icon. Co-written by Mangold and Joe Cocks, the film is based on Dylan Goes Electric! by musician and music journalist Elijah Wald. 

French actor Thimothee Chalamet skillfully slips into the shoes of the genius, transmitting Dylan’s spirit in his twenties and conveying not only his elusive personality but also his enigmatic charm. Singing, playing guitar, and embodying the artist’s restless spirit, his portrayal borders on perfection. 

The film traces Dylan’s meteoric rise, his tumultuous relationships with Suze Rotolo (Elle Fanning) and folk singer Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), and the seismic shockwaves of his controversial Newport Folk Festival performance, where he defied expectations by picking up an electric guitar. This moment, a turning point in his career, signified his determination to forge his own path beyond the confines of traditional folk music.

Mangold and cinematographer Phedon Papamichael, a frequent collaborator since 2003, vividly reconstruct the atmosphere of New York’s Greenwich Village in the 1960s, painting a visually rich and immersive portrait of the era. There is careful craftsmanship in Mangold’s direction—nothing feels cheap or inauthentic. Having already demonstrated his prowess in biopics with Walk the Line (about country-folk and rockabilly singer Johnny Cash) and Ford vs. Ferrari, he ensures that the film not only tells Dylan’s story but also reflects the broader political and cultural influence of American folk music at the time. 

What sets A Complete Unknown apart is its deep admiration and respect for both Dylan and the artists who surrounded him. The dry, academic biography that many might have feared turned out a rich and fascinating work. Not a moment is wasted in a film that runs fluidly, with historical significance.

Sing Sing (2025)

Direction: Greg Kwedar
Country: USA

Sing Sing tells the story of Divine G (Colman Domingo), an inmate at the infamous high-security prison who finds solace and purpose in a theater program while serving time for a crime he didn’t commit. Inspired by true events, the film is directed by Greg Kwedar (Transpecos, 2016; Jockey, 2021), who once again collaborates with Clint Bentley on the script. Notably, several former prisoners who benefited from this artistic rehabilitation program appear in the cast, adding an extra layer of authenticity.

Sometimes heavy-handed, sometimes surprisingly fluid, the documentary-like drama is carried by Domingo, who portrays a man reclaiming a fragment of his lost humanity by daring to dream of a new life. Shot primarily with a shoulder camera, the film favors close-ups, capturing expressions steeped in regret and pain. Presented without artifice, Sing Sing follows a slow-burning script in which characters gradually reveal themselves—though the emotional impact doesn’t always land as powerfully as intended. 

A sort of Dead Poets Society within Shawshank, the film’s message of hope and friendship is intertwined with a stripped-down, minimalist theatricality that sometimes borders on the academic. While not particularly surprising in its execution, Sing Sing maintains a genuine human tone, packed with disillusion, frustration, and hope. It’s a serious work, though one that may be challenging to engage with as pure entertainment.

Exhibiting Forgiveness (2024)

Direction: Titus Kaphar
Country: USA

Exhibiting Forgiveness marks the directorial feature film debut of Titus Kaphar, an American contemporary painter who draws from his own life, deconstructing personal experiences to craft a thoughtful, if imperfect, drama. The film stars André Holland as Tarell, a talented Black painter haunted by the past. His beloved mother, Joyce (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor), is terminally ill, and urges him to reconcile with and forgive his estranged father, La’Ron (John Earl Jelks), a former drug addict whose neglect and cruelty made Tarell’s childhood a nightmare. Together, father and son grapple with the painful truth that forgetting is often harder than forgiving.

With family trauma at its core, the film is ultimately about healing and finding a path forward. While occasionally tentative, it remains an honest and heartfelt melodrama that flickers with emotional depth, even if it never fully ignites. It is a small film in the best sense—intimate, personal, and rooted in the everyday struggles of ordinary people. However, the slow, restrained performances sometimes add more mannerism than poetry to this pursuit of happiness.

Kaphar’s screenplay, not being thin, is on the verge of collapsing on several occasions, leaving emotions in an embryonic state. However, a simmering tension is maintained, and the actors ultimately hold it together. Exhibiting Forgiveness is a movie at odds with itself, but that internal struggle is also its greatest strength.

Queer (2024)

Direction: Luca Guadagnino
Country: USA

Queer is an unimaginative adaptation of William S. Burrough’s 1985 novella, tracing the peculiar journey of his literary alter ego. In 1950s Mexico City, William Lee (Daniel Craig), an American expat in his late forties, leads a solitary life amidst a small American community. However, the arrival in town of Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey), a charming young student recently discharged from the U.S. Navy, stirs William into finally establishing a meaningful connection with someone. Directed by Luca Guadagnino (Call Me By Your Name, 2017; Suspiria, 2018; Challengers, 2024), with a screenplay by Justin Kuritzkes, the film focuses on a strong character but fails to explore his emotional complexities. 

The film is built on an uneven collection of episodes and intensities that never takes us anywhere despite a feverish final act. The director is true to form, yet the film’s sterile, overly polished approach never truly engages the heart or mind. The climactic descent into spiritual reckoning feels heavy-handed, offering no real payoff.

Craig delivers an impressive performance portraying a man of self-sufficiency and excesses, but Guadagino's approach bothered me as he unoriginally tries to shape the couple’s bonding as revelatory. There’s no need for wider social and cultural context, but in terms of romance, emotions struggle to pop up. The film’s strongest assets are its evocative cinematography by Sayombhu Mukdeeprom—whose lighting draws inspiration from Flemish painters—and a powerful contemporary soundtrack featuring Nirvana, Prince, and Sinéad O’Connor. However, these flourishes aren’t enough to elevate an otherwise hollow experience.

The Girl With the Needle (2025)

Direction: Magnus von Horn 
Country: Denmark / Poland / Sweden

The Girl With the Needle is a stark and unflinching period drama, imbued with immense emotional heft. It marks another impressive achievement from acclaimed Swedish filmmaker Magnus von Horn (The Here After, 2015; Sweat, 2020), in his first venture into black-and-white cinema. Inspired by Denmark’s most notorious criminal case—the life of serial killer Dagmar Overbye, who murdered 25 infants—the screenplay, co-written with Line Langebek Knudsen, deliberately avoids a direct biopic. Instead, they introduce Karoline, a fictional young factory worker who becomes pregnant and, through her fateful encounters with the criminal, reflects society’s perception of women in her position. 

The film unfolds with haunting beauty, capturing the profound isolation of its protagonist through restrained yet deeply affecting storytelling. Von Horn constructs a chilling, nightmarish world where loss and despair seep into every frame, leaving little room for hope. His approach, evocative of classic European arthouse cinema, is both subtly exasperating and hypnotically compelling.

The Girl With the Needle is raw, unrelenting, and unforgettable—its emotional and visual impact heightened by masterful staging and an ever-present sense of suffocating tension. Lushly photographed in monochrome, the film is elevated by outstanding performances from Vic Carmen Sonne and Trine Dyrholm, whose portrayals add to its harrowing intensity.

The Brutalist (2025)

Direction: Brady Corbet
Country: USA

The Brutalist, the fourth feature from Brady Corbet, co-written with his wife Mona Fastvold, is a riveting epic drama starring Adrien Brody, Guy Pearce, and Felicity Jones. The film’s title references both the stark architectural style that emerged in the 1950s—marked by raw materials like concrete and brick—and the underlying brutality of human nature. 

At its core, it tells the story of László Toth (Brody), a visionary Hungarian architect who escapes war-ravaged Europe to rebuild his life in America after surviving the concentration camps. His dreams take shape when wealthy tycoon Harrison Van Buren (Pearce) recognizes his talent and commissions him for an ambitious project. However, the opportunity comes at a steep cost, forcing László to navigate a world of power, ambition, and disillusionment.

Embracing a style that evokes the cinema of Paul Thomas Anderson and Orson Welles, The Brutalist explores the intersection of the immigrant experience and the artist’s journey, as well as the corrosive effects of human dominance. Over its sweeping 3-hour-and-35-minute runtime, the film presents both breathtaking visuals and an unflinching portrayal of an artist’s struggle, leaving the viewer bracingly unsettled.

The Brutalist is breathtakingly cruel and merciless in its essence, served by masterful performances, a punchy dialogue, and bravura staging. As a film of remarkable dramatic and formal magnitude, the more you think about it, the better and more qualified the film seems. A monumental work that firmly establishes itself as an instant classic.
Brody, an actor in state of grace, embraced another tailor-made role for him, making The Brutalist one of the standout films of the year.

Vermiglio (2024)

Direction: Maura Delpero
Country: Italy / Frane / Belgium

Vermiglio is a slow-burning yet largely compelling drama that thrives on its brooding atmosphere and tonal consistency. The title refers to a mountainous region where the harsh wintry landscape and limited resources underscore the hardships of wartime life.

Set in 1944, the film follows Pietro Riso (Giuseppe De Domenico), a deserting soldier who arrives in the village and falls in love with Lucia (Martina Scrinzi), the eldest daughter of the schoolteacher. Their love culminates in marriage, but fate, as often, proves unkind. Simultaneously, we witness the teacher's (Tommaso Ragno) personal struggles and the tribulations of two of his other children: Ada (Roberta Rovelli), tormented by guilt over impure thoughts and resorting to self-punishment, and Dino (Patrick Gardner), a wine-drinking boy who struggles academically.

Desolation and inertia permeate this powerful, well-acted tale, brought to life by Maura Delpero’s assured direction and elegantly composed visuals. Her meticulous gaze channels echoes of Anton Chekhov and Nuri Bilge Ceylan, prompting reflection on life’s quiet sorrows and joys. Despite the film’s languid pace and contemplative storytelling, Delpero persistently seeks and captures moments of humanity in her second foray into fictional filmmaking. The bittersweet Vermiglio earned the Grand Jury Prize at Venice.

All We Imagine as Light (2024)

Direction: Payal Kapadia
Country: India

All We Imagine as Light is a heartfelt love letter to Mumbai — a poetic, tender, and thoughtful portrait of contemporary India that follows the lives of two nurses and a cook working at a bustling Mumbai hospital. 

Prabha (Kani Kusruti), an experienced nurse, struggles with loneliness, haunted by an arranged marriage to a stranger who quickly immigrated to Germany and hasn't contacted her for over a year. Her vivacious younger roommate, Anu (Divya Prabha), challenges societal norms by dating a Muslim man, stirring a quiet jealousy in Prabha, who feels stagnant despite the subtle advances of Dr. Manoj (Azees Nedumangad). Meanwhile, their friend Parvathy (Chhaya Kadam), a widowed cook, faces displacement as a greedy landlord threatens her with eviction, forcing her to return to her hometown of Ratnagari.

Powered by three exquisite performances, this nuanced Indian tale unfolds in two distinct parts, each marked by its own landscape and emotional cadence. The film presents diverse forms of resistance against life's adversities, with writer-director Payal Kapadia, who has a background in documentary, wrapping every scene in grace and quiet revelations. Rather than seeking dramatic excesses, she adheres to a composed subtlety that works better than a river of tears. 

All We Imagine as Light is a soothing balm amidst the chaotic rhythms of modern Mumbai, offering a gentle meditation on life's complexities. Its lingering tenderness leaves a profound impression long after the credits roll.

Armand (2024)

Direction: Halfdan Ullmann Tøndel
Country: Norway 

Norwegian writer/director Halfdan Ullmann Tøndel, the grandson of actress Liv Ullmann and director Ingmar Bergman, makes his feature debut with Armand, a film steeped in secrets, lies, suspicions, and the complexities of troubled adult lives. Drawing inspiration from the works of Luis Buñuel, Tøndel crafts a tense narrative centered on Elisabeth (Renate Reinsve), an emotionally complex actor with a troubled past. She is summoned to an emergency meeting at her son's school, where allegations of potential inappropriate behavior by her 6-year-old son, Armand, toward his cousin are under investigation. Previous incidents compound the suspicions. 

The film's intrigue lies in deciphering whether Elisabeth, both neurotic and resilient, is genuinely vulnerable or merely playing a role. While the characters on screen may disappoint us in various ways, the film keeps a firm grip on its audience, pulling viewers into an emotional maelstrom reminiscent of a heavy Bergman-esque drama. 

A succession of uncomfortable and oppressive situations blurs boundaries and emphasizes moral ambiguities. However, the outcome lacks genuine surprise as the initial puzzle gradually falls neatly into place. Though the film is grounded in striking realism, dreamlike interludes choreographed with artistic intent periodically interrupt the narrative. Unfortunately, these sequences come off as ineffectual.

With dashes of dark humor, unnerving cynicism, and a striking lead performance, Armand grapples with superficiality without ever abandoning tension. Tøndel’s diligent filmmaking style captures the unsettling, but fails to deliver something more profound.

Nosferatu (2024)

Direction: Robert Eggers
Country: USA

Gothic morbidity saturates Nosferatu, a fable of supernatural torment and human sacrifice that’s reasonably chilling, offering a sumptuous engorgement of the senses. This latest adaptation, written and directed by Robert Eggers (The Witch, 2015; The Lighthouse, 2019; The Northman, 2022), is a remake of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 horror gem Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror. More monstrous and barbaric than its previous incarnations, Nosferatu is true to Eggers’ singular style, who made it darker and dirtier but still imbued with the essence of German expressionist cinema. 

Eggers' Nosferatu sheds the trappings of traditional horror to embrace a lavish yet unsettling modern interpretation of vampirism. Though bleak and brutal, it lacks sustained suspense but introduces intriguing new elements that captivate. Lily-Rose Depp, stepping in for Anya Taylor-Joy, delivers a commendable performance as Ellen, bringing depth and nuance to the role. Willem Dafoe, in his third collaboration with Eggers, portrays Professor Von Franz, an authority on alchemy, mysticism, and the occult who aids Ellen as her dreams grow more sinister and possessions intensify. Bill Skarsgård embodies the ominous Count Orlok, a vampire consumed by an obsessive desire for Ellen since her youth.

Jarin Blaschke’s impeccable cinematography masterfully captures the brooding atmosphere, while the period-appropriate costumes enrich the film’s dread-laden 19th-century ambiance. Despite a few unnecessary stretches, Nosferatu may not reach the pinnacle of vampire cinema, but it remains a taut and eerie spectacle anchored by strong, compelling performances.

The Room Next Door (2024)

Direction: Pedro Almodovar
Country: USA 

The Room Next Door proves to be a far better book than a movie. Celebrated Spanish director Pedro Almodóvar adapts Sigrid Nunez’s What Are You Going Through with conventional dialogue and a calm, polished dramatization that feels too cerebral to evoke powerful emotions.

Despite its heavy central theme, the film isn't a painful watch. It's poignant, occasionally depressing, yet also comforting as it portrays a touching relationship between two captivating characters who admire one another deeply. Ingrid (Julianne Moore), a celebrated author, unexpectedly reconnects with Martha (Tilda Swinton), a retired New York Times war journalist battling stage-three cervical cancer and undergoing experimental treatment. After a failed round of treatment, Martha makes a disconcerting request, asking Ingrid to be present in "the room next door" when she takes an euthanasia pill. Though troubled by the request, Ingrid agrees out of compassion and loyalty. 

The film boasts top-tier performances, though they cannot completely overshadow script oscillations and a certain stiffness in the dialogue. Almodóvar orchestrates the story with elegance, presenting a sober, aesthetically refined depiction that acknowledges the fragile beauty of life while delicately studying suffering. Themes of death, forgiveness, friendship, and regret unfold in a series of contemplations that often feel superfluous. The absence of surprising twists, dramatic friction, or even subdued intensity reveals a more restrained and simplistic Almodóvar, lacking the emotional weight of his past masterpieces. 

The weight of the film rests entirely on the shoulders of its exceptional actors, with Moore and Swinton—the latter delivering another remarkable double role—holding the film together with a genuine friendship supported in honesty and compassion. 
Failing to make a lasting, thought-provoking impression, The Room Next Door still has power, but not as much as it should. Blame the restrained aesthetics, light approach, and occasional conversational inelasticity.

Babygirl (2024)

Direction: Halina Reijn
Country: USA

Babygirl, an erotic psychological drama written, directed and produced by actress turned director Halina Reijn (Bodies Bodies Bodies, 2022), feels pedestrian and unexciting. The film follows Rory Mathis (Nicole Kidman), a powerful CEO of a New York robotics company specialized in logistics innovation. Frustrated by the lack of sexual stimulation in her marriage to filmmaker Jacob (Antonio Banderas), Rory embarks on an illicit affair with her much younger intern, Samuel (Harris Dickinson), who seems uncannily attuned to her desires. As their relationship deepens, Rory's vulnerability takes over, leading to chaos and loss of control.

Babygirl vacillates in a sexual game, which, not being new, can be fetishistically real. However, the story winds down as it develops, being pushed into ridiculousness in its final segment and ultimately failing to create a positive impact. Reijn seems uncertain about the film’s direction—wavering between drama, thriller, eroticism, and the bizarre—while her characters remain similarly unsure of whether they seek dominance or submission. 

Visually, the film offers little of note aside from a vividly trippy nightclub scene. The poorly crafted dialogue and inconsequential details further cloud a story already plagued by repetition and artificiality. Performances are uneven: Kidman commands the screen with intensity, Banderas delivers a weak and often laughable portrayal, and Dickinson strikes an awkward middle ground, exuding misplaced confidence without leaving a lasting impact. 

Despite its provocative premise, Babygirl never delivers the emotional payoff it seems to promise, leaving viewers waiting in vain for something truly gripping or transformative.

The New Year That Never Came (2024)

Direction: Bogdan Muresanu
Country: Romania

Bogdan Muresanu’s debut feature, The New Year That Never Came, is a political Romanian tragicomedy expanding on his 2018 short film The Christmas Gift. Set against the tumultuous backdrop of the Romanian revolution, the story unfolds over a single day in Bucharest, just before the fall of Nicolae Ceaușescu’s regime.

Filmed in a restrained 4:3 format, the film relies on a skilled ensemble cast to deliver a stripped-down exercise in social realism. While Mureșanu’s simmering narrative never fully boils over, it serves as a poignant meditation on oppression and fear. Carefully structured and tightly measured, it maintains a controlled tension that keeps the audience engaged.

The characters are far from preoccupied with trivial matters. Among them, we meet a disillusioned young student contemplating an illegal escape from the country, a group of men desperately trying to manipulate a politically damning video, a middle-aged woman emotionally torn as she faces losing her home, and a father thrust into jeopardy because of an innocent letter written by his son.

Through its pointed surface, The New Year That Never Came manages to tell us a great deal, capturing both the gravity and absurdity of life under a collapsing regime and offering viewers an evocative and thought-provoking experience. The film’s resonance and craftsmanship earned it the Orizzonti Award and the FIPRESCI Prize at Venice Film Festival.