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.

Bird (2024)

Direction: Andrea Arnold
Country: UK 

Bird—a strange, captivating, and sensory coming-of-age drama—marks an extraordinary return for Andrea Arnold, one of the most brilliant independent filmmakers of our time. Known for her raw, direct, and original filmmaking style, Arnold’s work occasionally leans heavily on handheld camera techniques, which may polarize some viewers, but here they deliver stunning results. Her approach thrives in crafting complex environments filled with genuine, idiosyncratic characters.

The film follows a 12-year-old girl, played by the astonishing Nykiya Adams, who delivers a breakout performance as the young protagonist navigating life in a struggling neighborhood in Kent, Southeast England. Bird is not only a testament to Arnold’s command of storytelling but also a deeply satisfying emotional journey. It surprises with its quality and rewards the trust it asks of its audience, presenting a distinct aesthetic that marks another bold step in Arnold’s celebrated career rooted in social realism. This time, however, Arnold enriches the narrative with touches of fantasy that intrigue and captivate. 

The instincts are primitive and euphoric but the humanity is radiant and comforting, infused with a surprising sweetness in moments where harshness might have been expected. If Arnold’s aim was to push buttons and make us feel the environment and the emotions surrounding the protagonist, she's succeeded wildly. Her high-flying fable and observant social chronicle never loses track of its characters and their humanity. Even in its hauntingly poetic and minimalist surrealist interludes, Bird soars with both primal urgency and a tender heart, transcending the hardships it portrays.

Confirmed as an accomplished director of great gifts and passions, Arnold makes the most of her incredible cast of non-professional actors - the exceptions are Barry Keoghan (The Killing of a Sacred Deer, 2017; Dunkirk, 2017; The Banshees of Inisherin, 2022) and Franz Rogowski (Transit, 2018; Great Freedom, 2021; Passages, 2023), who add depth and nuance to the ensemble. The film’s diligent pacing, electrifying British post-punk soundtrack, and dynamic camera work amplify the protagonist’s sense of anxiety and disorientation, making Bird a visceral, radiant, and highly rewarding experience.

A Real Pain (2024)

Direction: Jesse Eisenberg
Country: USA

A Real Pain, the sophomore directorial feature by Jesse Eisenberg, who also stars, focuses on two American Jewish cousins having a hard time to fully reconnect and deal with their feelings during a one-week trip to Poland to honor their late grandmother. David (Eisenberg), a devoted husband and father, is reserved, obsessive-compulsive, sentimental, and occasionally jealous. In contrast, Benji (Kieran Culkin) is a free-spirited, bluntly honest, impulsive, and depressive foil. While both are grateful for the shared journey, their genuine friendship is rife with tension and friction.

This seriocomic slice of life, penned by Eisenberg, feels effortlessly light, even as it navigates a series of awkward situations. However, the narrative structure is so sparse it often feels skeletal. Dramatic moments occasionally fail to reach their emotional apex, and the simplistic character psychology aligns with a script that seems designed more to gently entertain than to provoke or deeply resonate.

The premise dissipates quickly, leaving surface impressions that fluctuate between pleasantly whimsical and mildly moving. The film’s subdued emotional tone is further undercut by its ambiguous and bittersweet ending, which feels stagnant. What raises A Real Pain slightly above the mediocrity is its comic riffs—toggling between annoying and amusing—and the strong chemistry between Culkin and Eisenberg. The quirkiest thing about it is how much it spends in trivial details at the sound of Chopin’s melancholic nocturnes and waltzes. Not being particularly inventive or diverting, A Real Pain remains in tepid waters for most of its duration, and failed to move me in almost every aspect.

The Order (2024)

Direction: Justin Kurzel
Country: USA

In Justin Kurzel’s crime thriller The Order, Robert Matthews (Nicholas Hoult), a staunch neo-nazi affiliated with the Aryan Nations puts words into action, following the method described in the notorious book The Turner Diaries—authored by National Alliance founder William Luther Pierce—turning hateful rhetoric into violent action, and following its blueprint for armed revolution and assassination tactics. Declaring war on the federal government and engaging in domestic terrorism, Matthews faces off against Terry Husk (Jude Law in a muscular performance), a hardened, short-tempered FBI agent determined to dismantle the rise of white supremacy. 

Set in the early 1980s, the fact-based script by Zachary Baylin (King Richard, 2021; Creed III, 2023) combines historical authenticity with narrative urgency. Initially unfolding as a conventional thriller, the film gradually deepens into a darker exploration of extremism in a satisfying combination of genre thrills and real-life implications. It deftly captures the disturbing proximity between extremist ideologies and their violent manifestations, challenging viewers to confront these realities. 

Visually unremarkable and interspersed with bursts of repetitive action, The Order distinguishes itself through its compelling emphasis on character. Hoult and Law deliver intense performances that anchor the narrative, while Kurzel, known for Snowtown (2011) and Nitram (2021), demonstrates a measured approach to the sensitive subject matter. He skillfully balances the film's elements, allowing the actors to discover moments of nuance, rhythm, and vulnerability within the story. 

Equal parts unsettling and candid, The Order doesn’t quite transcend genre expectations, yet some may find curiosity in the way Kurzel explores the themes.

Sujo (2024)

Direction: Astrid Rondero, Fernanda Valadez
Country: Mexico 

Following their debut feature The Darkest Days of Us (2017), Mexican filmmakers Astrid Rondero and Fernanda Valadez reunite for Sujo, a coming-of-age crime drama. The story follows a young boy named Sujo (Juan Jesús Varela), who becomes a target of Mexican cartels due to his lineage. Forced to live in hiding, he eventually leaves the violence-stricken Tierra Caliente of Michoacán for Mexico City, seeking an escape from turmoil and a chance for a dignified and constructive life.

Presented in four uneven chapters, the film offers an innocent perspective on Mexico's drug-related violence. Its narrative fails to evoke a strong emotional connection with the protagonist, never finding deep wells of excitement in a whirlingly divergent romp blending vengeful cartel activity and imminent redemption.This lack of passion makes it difficult to become fully invested in a tale that gives you feelings and impressions, but roundly fails to sell itself as something deeper as its twists are not particularly surprising. Therefore, we ultimately come out of it more numb than fascinated. 

There's a glimmer of interest in the film's narrative contortions, and it's admirable that the directors have taken its subject seriously. However, it's just not thrilling enough. Despite its ambitious themes, Sujo leaves behind a sense of untapped potential.

Small Things Like These (2024)

Direction: Tim Mielants
Country: Ireland / Belgium

Based on Claire Keegan’s best-selling novel, Small Things Like These is a poignant Irish film directed by Belgian filmmaker Tim Mielants (Patrick, 2019), with a screenplay by Enda Walsh, co-writer of Hunger (2008) alongside Steve McQueen. The film stars Cillian Murphy as Bill Furlong, a quiet and diligent coal merchant who uncovers a harrowing secret within his small town’s convent. The mother superior, Sister Mary (Emily Watson), attempts to buy his silence with Christmas gifts, but Bill remains haunted by what he witnesses during his deliveries. As the story unfolds, he confronts unsettling truths about his own past.

The film’s naturalistic treatment—marked by nuanced performances and understated direction—heightens the realism of a story that is quietly profound in its simplicity and austerity. While it lacks a traditional climax and occasionally struggles with languid pacing, the narrative resonates deeply as a restrained yet powerful exploration of Catholic institutional abuses. Unlike more sensationalist approaches, the film opts for a steady, somber tone, subtly gesturing toward the hope of change.

Mielants crafts a sincere, lugubrious historical drama suffused with disenchantment and anguish. It stands as a deeply humanistic work, highlighting the imperative of rescuing young victims from the cruelty of unsupervised religious institutions. However, the film occasionally stumbles upon its understated ambitions, with moments of narrative ennui and a tendency to leave its emotional potential underexplored.

I was touched in the end, but never got hooked during the narrative process. I wanted to feel more, I guess. Yet, the ones who stay with the film may find a quiet reward in its understated power.

Memoir of a Snail (2024)

Direction: Adam Elliot
Country: Australia

Memoir of a Snail, a darkly humorous stop-motion animation loosely inspired by director Adam Elliot’s own life, chronicles the trials and tribulations of lonely Australian misfit Grace Pudel, from childhood to adulthood.

Grace is a hoarder, an obsessive snail collector, and kleptomaniac born prematurely. She narrates her poignant story to Sylvia, her favorite snail, now set free for good. Through her reflections, we learn about her transformative friendship with Pinky—a liberal octogenarian who taught her to see life differently and embrace hope over despair—her strong bond with her twin brother Gilbert, and her complex relationship with her secretive repairman husband, Ken.

Sadness permeates Grace's journey, layering despair upon despair, yet the film offers a final glimmer of hope. Despite its melancholic undertones, Memoir of a Snail stands out as a beautifully crafted tragicomedy for adults, consistently daring in its intellectual and emotional exploration. The story's distinctive tone and bittersweet idiosyncrasies highlight themes of loss, loneliness, and resilience. 

As animated work, it is visually flawless, and as a drama, it achieves an emotional depth that surpasses many live-action films this year. It offers a mature, therapeutic, and unsentimental examination of a singular life, where every element integrates seamlessly. For all its intentionally bizarre qualities, the film retains a dark humor and sharp visual wit, blending hope and heartbreak with devastating emotional impact.

Anora (2024)

Direction: Sean Baker
Country: USA 

With his bittersweet worldview and keen sense of the ridiculous, Sean Baker (Tangerine, 2015; The Florida Project, 2017) delivers a jubilant if cruel indie comedy with Anora, his eighth feature film. A romantic tragicomedy that defies standard conventions, the film centers on Ani (Mikey Madison), a 23-year-old sex worker in New York whose life takes an unexpected turn when she marries Ivan Zhakharov (Mark Eydelshteyn), the spoiled son of a Russian oligarch.

This zany nuptial odyssey masterfully balances hysterical and heartfelt tones, weaving together themes of love, fury, laughter, and tears. Baker crafts anarchic, tension-filled situations that satirize unchecked capitalism and immature love, prompting reflection on two disparate souls seemingly escaping their respective prisons. The open-ended staging challenges its actors, who excel amidst the chaos, as the narrative seamlessly shifts between humor and heartache. The result is a dazzlingly paced love story driven by the electric chemistry between Madison and Eydelshteyn. 

Baker’s risk-taking approach and compelling writing are rewarded with neat images, a frenetic pace, and outstanding performances. The director films more statically than ever before, unafraid to take some time on certain scenes to make his social satire closer to reality. Despite its measured approach, monotony never creeps in, as Anora thrives on its originality and compelling characters who continuously evolve. 

With youthful ardor, audacious storytelling, and interpretive depth, the Palme D’Or winner Anora reaffirms Baker as a standout voice in American independent cinema. It’s a thought-provoking, wildly entertaining work that leaves a lasting impression.

Maria (2024)

Direction: Pablo Larraín
Country: USA / Italy / Germany

With Maria, which depicts the final week in the life of legendary American-born Greek opera singer Maria Callas, Chilean director Pablo Larraín completes his trilogy of biopics spotlighting women who shaped the 20th century. Following Jackie (2016), where Natalie Portman portrayed Jackie Onassis, and Spencer (2021), starring Kristen Stewart as Lady Diana, this film casts Angelina Jolie in a surprising and transformative performance as Callas. Jolie not only embodies the role with grace but also lends her voice to the singing. However, despite its poignancy, the screenplay— penned by Steven Knight (Dirty Pretty Things, 2002; Eastern Promises, 2007)—falters in delivering emotional resonance in pivotal moments. 

At 53, Maria lives in Paris, haunted by a traumatic childhood in Athens and the realization that her voice, once unparalleled, has faltered. Alternating between reality and imagination, she leans on her devoted butler Ferruccio (Pierfrancesco Favino) and housemaid Bruna (Alba Rohrwacher) for support. Flashbacks, rendered in stark black-and-white, vividly illustrate her turbulent teenage years and her fraught relationship with the charismatic but domineering Aristotle Onassis (Haluk Bilginer).

Filmed with grandeur and sophistication, Maria eschews melodramatic artifice but probably could've benefited from a little more energy in its telling. While polished and coherent, the drama feels predictably prepackaged. Larraín and Jolie keep the picture moving, yet struggling to showcase how the diva’s trauma and health decline affected her final artistic aspirations. 

The period details are meticulously crafted, and Ed Lachman’s cinematography is nothing short of stunning, but the staging constantly oscillates between elegant mannerism and calibrated realism. Maria is dispensable, and only Jolie’s masterful performance can make it a worthwhile watch for admirers of the actress and the opera icon alike.

Gladiator II (2024)

Direction: Ridley Scott
Country: USA 

Ridley Scott cements his reputation as a master of epic cinema with Gladiator II, an arguably unnecessary but undeniably entertaining action spectacle that revels in physical clashes and dramatic intensity. Written by David Scarpa, this sequel introduces Paul Mescal as Lucius Verus Aurelius, the son of Maximus (played by Russell Crowe in the original).

Fifteen years after Maximus’ death, Lucius returns to a corrupt Rome after the Roman army's brutal campaign in Numidia, North Africa. Haunted by the murder of his wife, he vows vengeance, reconnects with his mother, Lucilla (Connie Nielsen), and finds himself under the tutelage of Macrinus (Denzel Washington), a former slave with ambitions to rule Rome. 

While it breaks no new ground narratively, this colossal production builds momentum as it unfolds, eventually drawing viewers into its dramatic core. It is a visceral, blood-soaked exploration of power, war, revenge, and emancipation, holding the audience captive with its steamy visuals and audacious premise. The fight sequences erupt with the force of a volcano, and Scott elicits compelling performances from his cast. 

Despite its shortcomings, Gladiator II delivers a full-bodied adventure that skillfully balances responsiveness to its audience’s expectations with a reverence for the epic grandeur of its predecessor.

Black Dog (2024)

Direction: Guan Hu
Country: China

Co-written by versatile Chinese director Guan Hu (Cow, 2009; Mr. Six, 2015), Black Dog is a remarkable and deeply moving drama brimming with soulful and tender moments. Set in a transforming town on the edge of the Gobi Desert in Northwest China, the story follows Lang (Eddie Peng), a former stunt motorcyclist and rock band member who returns to his hometown after being released from prison. Alienated in a world rife with cruelty, Lang finds solace and renewed hope in a wild black dog with a bounty on its head. Along the way, he confronts old enemies, visits his dying alcoholic father, and forms a special bond with a belly dancer employed by a new circus in town.

Hu’s masterfully crafted drama showcases mesmerizing camerawork, with the lens trailing and circling characters intimately, creating an immersive visual experience. The steady pacing allows the emotional weight of the story to unfold organically, while the stunning performances breathe life into the characters. The film’s aesthetic excellence is further elevated by Pink Floyd’s evocative songs, which add depth and resonance to the narrative. With meticulous attention to the intricacies of everyday life, Black Dog shatters the illusion of emptiness, drawing viewers into its rich, observational storytelling.

Defined by Guan Hu’s distinct directorial vision, Black Dog stands as his finest work to date. This profoundly affecting tale of reintegration, loneliness, and human resilience is both a bold sociopolitical critique and an intimate exploration of personal struggles. The film leaves a lasting impression, inviting viewers to reflect long after the credits roll. With a brief but notable cameo by acclaimed director Jia Zhangke, Black Dog is a testament to the resurgence of Chinese cinema on the global stage.

Wicked (2024)

Direction: Jon M. Chu
Country: USA 

Jon M. Chu (Crazy Rich Asians, 2018; In The Heights, 2021) delivers a competent adaptation of the renowned Broadway musical Wicked, inspired by the world of The Wizard of Oz. This is the first installment of a two-part adaptation, written by Winnie Holzman and Dana Fox (Cruella, 2021). 

Selling every scene they’re in, Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande form an amazing duo as Elphaba and Galinda, respectively. The former character was born green with special psychic powers but was rejected by her father, eventually becoming the Wicked Witch of the West after her sorcery tutor, Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh), arranges a fateful meeting with the Wizard of Oz (Jeff Goldblum). In contrast, Galinda is an irritating, self-absorbed, glamorous blonde steeped in vanity and artificiality. Despite their differences—spoiled versus neglected, vain versus humble—the two women form a meaningful friendship and even fall for the same man. 

Chu stays true to the spirit of the musical, amplifying its socio-political themes. The story’s messages of inclusion, acceptance of differences, resistance against oppression, and opposition to animal cruelty resonate powerfully. Despite technically sumptuous, Wicked doesn’t always 'defy gravity’, with some musical numbers feeling overly prolonged. Nevertheless, the film offers solid entertainment, blending the whimsy of Harry Potter with the flair of Barbie. It transports viewers into a vibrant, magical world that balances humor and poignancy with bursts of energy. 

As a mass-market confection, Wicked certainly works well enough, though its greatest strengths lie in its opulent production design and sharp humor rather than its narrative depth.

The Count of Monte Cristo (2024)

Direction: Matthieu Delaporte, Alexandre de La Patellière
Country: France 

For their third feature film, French filmmakers and screenwriters Matthieu Delaporte and Alexandre de La Patellière take on Alexandre Dumas’ classic The Count of Monte Cristo, a sweeping tale of love, tragedy, and revenge.

With its meticulous period details, lush settings, and an old-fashioned approach to storytelling, this grand production delivers visual flair but falls short in generating excitement, suffering from a lack of surprises. While this tame, three-hour adaptation replaces some characters and unfolds with formal, somewhat academic staging, it nonetheless secured a strong position at the French box office.

Pierre Niney (Frantz, 2016; Yves Saint Laurent, 2014) is appropriately earnest as Edmond Dantès. Wrongfully imprisoned and later escaping from a remote island prison, Dantès orchestrates a calculated revenge against the three men—Danglars, Gérard de Villefort, and Fernand de Morcerf—who destroyed his life. 

It’s a constant battle between polished images and undramatic sequences that could be better matured. Still, there's still something to ponder about the vengeful Count tale that's worth pondering. If nothing else, this adaptation serves as a nostalgic reminder that, on occasion, they still make movies like they used to.

My Old Ass (2024)

Direction: Megan Park
Country: Canada

Megan Park’s sophomore directorial feature, My Old Ass, is a refreshingly spontaneous coming-of-age comedy that captures the vibrant, messy tapestry of teenage life with authenticity and warmth. At the heart of the film is a breakout performance by Canadian singer and actress Maisy Stella, making her feature film debut after her time on the musical television series Nashville.

Stella is Elliott, an 18-year-old who, during the course of a mushrooms trip, has contact with her 39-year-old self (Aubrey Plaza). What begins as a quirky exchange of life advice quickly becomes a heartfelt exploration of self-discovery, as Elliott grapples with the rebelliousness of youth and the unpredictable outcomes of love. 

Sweet but not cheesy, the film stands out for its originality and relatable charm. While it may not reinvent the teen rom-com genre, it handles themes like sexual orientation with a light, natural touch, brimming with hopefulness, self-discovery, and a sense of wonder about life and love.

Park, who impressed audiences with The Fallout in 2021, opts for simplicity, focusing on genuine human connection. This approach succeeds largely due to the chemistry of her leads, with Stella’s Elliott beautifully complemented by Percy Hynes White’s performance. My Old Ass is a gutsy and endearing ode to youth, a well-crafted tale of living life to its fullest and confronting the inevitable fear of loss. It’s an enjoyable, life-affirming watch that will leave you smiling, even if its charm is more fleeting than indelible.