The Courier (2021)

Direction: Dominic Cooke
Country: UK

I firmly believe that the life of British engineer and businessman Greville Wynne was far more interesting than this political thriller that tells his story. The Courier is a weak account of his involvement with the MI-6 and the warm relationship forged with the Soviet agent Oleg Penkovsky during the Cold War. Both played an important role in the prevention of a nuclear war as well as defusing the Cuban missile crisis of 1962.

The film, written by Tom O’Connor and directed by Dominic Cooke, stars Benedict Cumberbatch (The Imitation Game) as the British courier and Merab Ninidze (My Happy Family) as the Soviet informer. The atmosphere within the family is also addressed here as Wynne’s wife, Sheila (Jessie Buckley), becomes suspicious about her husband having a lover due to the numerous times he's absent in Moscow.

Although boasting a hyper-focused camera work that is pretty effective (the cinematographer is Sean Bobbitt, whose observant lens has been crucial in the works of director Steve McQueen), the film struggles to maintain minimally acceptable dynamics. The cold tone adopted by Cooke makes it stagger toward a half-baked climax, leading to the lamentable conclusion that he’s more interested in informing the audience than really entertaining it.

Honestly, the whole film feels like there’s something off, and because Cooke didn’t invest in thrills and Cumberbatch was not so convincing, the result is a vacuous, low-energy spy thriller that made me exhaustively insensitive.

Nobody (2021)

Direction: Ilya Naishuller
Country: USA

Nobody is a kinetic, action-packed romp smeared with dark comedic touches that create that mood that feels just right. It’s the first directorial effort by Russian Ilya Naishuller, who worked from a familiar yet smart script by Derek Kolstad, the creative brain behind the John Wick franchise.

Perpetually violent, the film follows Hutch Mansell (Bob Odenkirk of Breaking Bad series and Alexander Payne’s Nebraska), a seemingly quiet family man with a mysterious past who gradually became bored, cold and irritated throughout the years. After an armed couple breaks into his house, he decides to go after them, but not before realizing that his daughter’s kitty-cat bracelet is missing. Somehow, this brings a new excitement to his monotonous life, and he even reconnects with his wife, Becca (Connie Nielsen). 

In his fury, he ends up messing with the Russian mob while helping a young woman in distress, becoming the target of Yulian Kuznetsov (Aleksey Serebryakov), a beast of a sociopath and Obshak guardian.

Besides the suitable multi-genre retro soundtrack and the expeditious editing by the team Evan Schiff and William Yeh, the film ramps up with Odenkirk’s breathtaking performance. 

Sometimes, Naishuller toys with cliché and embraces the ridicule, taking a good laugh whenever they occur. And those include most of the scenes involving Hutch’s father, David (remember Christopher Lloyd? Back to the Future’s Dr. Emmet Brown), a former FBI agent with a disturbing craving for guns (where did we see this before?).

Nobody is nothing major, but there’s enough funny and electrifying moments laced through the uneven plot sequences to make us engaged.

Manor House (2021)

Direction: Cristi Puiu
Country: Romania / other

Cristi Puiu is a Romanian director credited with accomplished films such as The Death of Mr. Lazarescu (2005), Aurora (2010) and Sieranevada (2016). Manor House, his sixth feature, however, is an interminable philosophical debate set in the 19th-century Transylvania that doesn’t take us anywhere beyond aristocratic pretentiousness. 

The film, based on a text by Russian philosopher Vladimir Salovyov, denotes a remarkable cinematography by Tudor Vladimir Panduru (My Happy Family; Graduation) and an impeccable, evocative mise en scène that ceases to create an impact as the tedium of the conversation gradually installs.

This plot-less exercise centers on a Christmas gathering hosted by Nikolai (Frédéric Schulz-Richard), an aristocrat landowner, who seems to enjoy the company of his four argumentative guests - the Franco-Russian politician Edouard (Ugo Broussot), the ironic middle-aged Madeleine (Agathe Bosch), the young pious Olga (Marina Palii), and Ingrida (Diana Sakalauskaité), the wife of a Russian general. In their complex examinations, the group addresses war and peace, God and the antichrist, death and sins, Russia and Europe, reason and conscience, politeness and human progress. Puiu also gives us a quick glimpse of the servants’ work and behavior around the house, which is the most interesting part of the film. 

These erudite discussions, sometimes recalling the elegant formalism of Manoel de Oliveira, are captured by excessively long takes where the actors, with more or less theatrical demeanor, vomit their thoughts with no interruption or restraint. Can you imagine a film that you have to wait an entire hour for something to happen - an abrupt faint, in the case - and absolutely nothing comes from that? Puiu was never more obstinate and futile than in Manor House.

To the Ends of the Earth (2020)

Direction: Kiyoshi Kurosawa
Country: Uzbekistan / Japan / other

Written and directed by Kiyoshi Kurosawa (Cure; Tokyo Sonata), To the Ends of The Earth follows Yoko (former J-pop idol Atsuko Maeda), the dissatisfied host of a Japanese travel TV show who dreams of being a singer. Arrived in Uzbekistan to shoot another installment of the series, Yoko only takes pleasure in exploring the capital, Tashkent, by herself. The small crew that flew with her from Japan is not particularly amusing, especially the inconsiderate director, Yoshioka (Shota Sometani); and only a hired local translator, Temur (Adiz Rajabov), sparks off some genuine empathy.

During her staying, Yoko gets involved in many episodes - she's blamed for the non-appearance of a mythical Uzbek fish, forced to eat uncooked rice in a local eatery and pretend it’s delicious, rides multiple times in a giddying pendulum ride, pities a goat in captivity and sets it free (an unconscious projection of her own situation), gets lost in the city at night, visits the beautiful Navoi Theater by chance, and ends up being chased by the police for a frivolous incident. 

This culture-clash drama is rooted in a painful realism but occasionally slips into cloud-land through fabricated musical moments. Although it may get you hooked in its loose narrative sphere and gentle pace, some episodes are peripheral, with Kurosawa showing some indecision about if he wants to explore the austerely dramatic side of a phony travelogue or extract a breezy jocularity from certain situations.

Expect a strong central performance by Maeda, whose character completely transfigures while working in front of a camera, and an interesting shift into the minor key from Kurosawa, who typically embraces a tension-filled style.

Shiva Baby (2021)

Direction: Emma Seligman
Country: USA 

Emma Seligman’s debut feature, Shiva Baby, is a witty comedy expanded from her 2018 short film of the same name, which, despite not entirely new in form and circumstance, still works out pretty well. The writing by the Canadian director is self-aware, while the impressive performance by the young Rachel Sennott in the leading role might open some doors to a promising career. The latter, strongly flanked by a competent supporting cast, is Danielle, a Jewish college senior who goes to a shiva with her pestering parents, Debbie (Polly Draper) and Joel (Fred Melamed), just to find out that her sugar daddy, Max (Danny Deferrari), as well as her self-reliant ex-girlfriend, Maya (Molly Gordon), are also attending.

Personal discomposure, family judgment, emotional consternation, jealousy and petty retaliation are some strong aspects to come up from a feverish day in the life of the messy Danielle. 

Whereas the filmmaking shows some interesting details - I’m remembering a few closeups of grotesque faces during a moment of emotional unbalance - the plot tackles the subject to the point of cringe-worthy. It’s a moderately diverting film with plenty of awkwardness and a gossipy tone that can be occasionally teasing as well.

Atlantis (2021)

Direction: Valentyn Vasyanovych
Country: Ukraine

Atlantis, a product of the creative mind of writer/director/producer/editor/cinematographer Valentyn Vasyanovych, opens with a bird's-eye shot filtered with a thermography effect of a man being killed by three others and buried in a hole they previously dug. This incident happened somewhere within a delimited area in Ukraine that, in 2025, is considered unfit for humans, and dangerous due to water and soil contamination as well as multiple mines spread through former battlegrounds between Ukrainians and Soviets. 

Sergyi (Andriy Rymaruk), a veteran soldier suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, starts to find some peace under the grey skies of that same perimeter, right after the smelting plant where he was employed closes down. Although there’s not much to look at or do there, he volunteers in a program, whose goal is to exhume the bodies of war victims. Yet, the true reason for his rehabilitation isn’t the task itself, but Katya (Liudmyla Bileka), a woman with whom he dreams to live a better life.

At a first glance, this slow-burning indie might be referred to as a contemplation of the wrecked, but the gloomy inertness that haunts and afflicts us for most of its duration becomes ultimately winning. The low dynamics give the story an opaque narrative thread that becomes clearer as the clock keeps ticking, and the film shifts gears from an intriguingly morbid desolation (with scenes involving death, suicide and destructive anger) to a warm, hopeful love story. 

With both the camera work and the atmosphere recalling the works of Nuri Bilge Ceylan and Andrei Tarkovsky, Atlantis is a rough film to sit through, but those who really pay attention to its existentialist musings will be rewarded.

Quo Vadis Aida? (2021)

Direction: Jasmila Zbanic
Country: Bosnia and Herzegovina

Jasmila Zbanic’s Quo Vadis, Aida? is an enthralling, terrifying look at the barbarian 1995 genocide of Srebenica, when the Bosnian Serb Army killed 8,372 innocent Bosnian muslims during the Bosnian War. Rather than a generic account of the events, the film centers on the personal experience of the wife, mother, teacher and UN translator Aida Selmanagic (what a ferocious performance by Jasna Djuricic!), who fights like a true lioness in a desperate attempt to save her family. Although the film has been inspired by true events, its central character was fictionalized.

The treacherous General Ratko Mladic (Boris Isakovic), supreme commander of the Bosnian Serb Army, negotiates with the leader of the blue helmets, Major Franken (Raymond Thiry), who, despite the multiple recent attacks, keeps declaring the besieged enclave of Srebenica as a safe area. 

As the tension escalates, the UN camp, located in the outskirts of the city, becomes the only 'untouchable' place, and it's where 25000 unarmed Bosnians seek shelter as they fear for their lives. Nonetheless, the ominous feeling that a catastrophe is near seems to make both UN soldiers and civilians restless. 

The film, impeccably edited by Jaroslaw Kaminski (he worked with Pawlikowski in Ida and Cold War), unfolds as an effective nightmare that is suitably appalling in its historical context and extremely heartbreaking in terms of the family perspective. 

Sarajevo-born Zbanic, who is best known for the Berlin-winner drama film Grbavica (2006), has here her best film to date; an unforgettable experience capped off by an acerbic finale, and whose unflagging edginess and breathtaking stride will keep you petrified at all times.

Sun Children (2021)

Direction: Majid Majidi
Country: Iran

Majid Majidi, a director of righteous social conviction, returns to his effective screen formula to denounce the struggles of children in contemporary Iran. His latest drama film, Sun Children, is dedicated to the 150 million children forced to illegal labor in order to survive, whether because of some misfortune in life or to comply with the wish of their irresponsible parents. 

The story he wrote with Nima Javidi centers on Ali Zamani (newcomer Rouhollah Zamani), a 12-year-old street-wise who works in a garage since a car accident sent his mother to a public hospital. His boss is a local gangster, Hashem (Ali Nassirian), who assigns him with a complex mission: to find a treasure buried under the town's cemetery. The underground tunnel that leads there has its entrance at the Sun School, located next to it, where Ali and his three companions will have to enroll to gain access.

The charitable yet bankrupted school happens to be more like a blessing than a burden, filled with 280 rebellious yet inseparable street kids in need of care, and fronted by a sympathetic principal (Ali Ghabeshi) who always tries to understand first before educate them accordingly. 

This sad song abounds with sweat and frustration, and its energy is unfluctuating throughout, even at those times when a circumstantial emotional manipulation tries to impose, fortunately, with no major consequences. In fact, the film is ultimately hopeless but never bleak, taking a realistic look at one of the most serious issues in the Iranian society. And speaking of issues, in a parallel incident, the police is not spared for its excess of zeal and lack of tact.

Sun Children might not be among Majidi's best works such as Children of Heaven (1997), The Color of Paradise (1999) and The Song of Sparrows (2008), but its visual acuteness together with the powerful message makes it a ride bound to be taken seriously.

Moffie (2021)

Direction: Oliver Hermanus
Country: South Africa / UK

Moffie is a pejorative Afrikaans term for gay. This closely observed drama film is based on the autobiographical novel of the same name by South African Andre Carl van der Merwe, and pulses with some honesty. However, it struggles to preserve both the focus and the narrative fluidity, ending up being more informative than entertaining. 

The year is 1981, and the young Nicholas Van Der Swart (Kai Luke Brummer) is ready for the compulsory military service of the Apartheid regime. The austere program, which takes place at the belligerent Angolan border, not only toughens their hearts through physical and psychological abuses, but also makes them learn to hate black men, fight the spreading of communism and condemn same-sex relationships. They are also told to forget who they are, which is a big problem for Nicholas, who, being homosexual, can’t really run counter his true nature. 

At the training camp, he instantly befriends the self-assured Michael Sachs (Matthew Vey), but it’s the carefree Dylan Stassen (Ryan de Villiers) who steals his heart one night in the trenches. Combating his most intimate desires, Nicholas tries to avoid the humiliation and punishment that an ‘illegal’ relationship puts him through. 

The director and co-writer Oliver Hermanus makes an effort to push things into a sensitive corner but rarely the film goes there because every aspect surrounding the story is cold and unfeeling. Suicide is frequent among the soldiers, the military training is exhaustingly repetitive, and even a flashback to a traumatic episode in Nicholas’ adolescence feel so lugubrious that I almost wanted the film to end.

The young Brummer delivers a top-drawer performance, giving the character the reserved posture, emotional complexity and subdued charm that allows us to connect. Thus, whatever didn’t work here, it wasn't his fault.

Fire Will Come (2020)

Direction: Oliver Laxe
Country: Spain

Ambiguity and judgmental behavior mark Fire Will Come, the third feature film of French-born Spanish cineaste Oliver Laxe (You All Are Captains, 2010; Mimosas, 2016), who co-wrote it with Santiago Fillol.

The story follows Amador Coro (Amador Arias), a convicted arsonist, as he returns to his house in the Galician mountain range of Los Ancares, after doing time for setting a whole mountain on fire. At a first glance he seems welcomed with a certain coldness by his elderly mother, Benedicta (Benedicta Sánchez), but after a while she rejoices in having him in the house and helping her with the few cows she still keeps.

Quiet, aimless and isolated, Amador dismisses the company of the locals and even refuses to work for his neighbor Inazio (Inazio Brao), who is rebuilding a decrepit house and the surrounding area in order to attract tourism. The exception to the rule is Elena (Elena Fernández), a vet who seems to like him but subtly changes posture after hearing about his conviction by the same provocative men who sometimes upset him with questions like: “Amador, do you have a light?”

Advocating 100% of great-looking realism, Laxe drives this caravan of non-professional actors from Sierra de Ancares with unobtrusive rigor and delivers a powerful, if poignant, finale that really gets to you in a strange way.

Purists of the cinema will be in heaven with this unflinching portrait of an inscrutable man who whether looks for a recovery path or to satisfy his most evil inclinations. Some might find the subject too grim and the uncertainties frustrating, in a film that sets its mood through a permanent human melancholy and the natural misty atmosphere that characterizes this part of the Galician landscape. Even if they have a point, I can’t help recommending it for the profound impression it leaves.

Lux Aeterna (2020)

Direction: Gaspar Noé
Country: France

The Argentine-born Paris-based helmer Gaspar Noé is a known shocker who likes to draw attention to himself through a so called ‘originality’ that never truly convinced me. If his early work - I Stand Alone (1998); Irreversible (2002); Enter the Void (2009) - was marked with a painful grittiness that got me involved, then the last two features - Love (2015) and Climax (2018) - were exhaustingly egotist and too ridiculous to deserve any merit. His new outing, Lux Aeterna, is a 51-minute ride into the backstage of a film about witches, in which actresses Charlotte Gainsbourg (Antichrist; Melancholia) and Béatrice Dalle (Betty Blue; Time of the Wolf) play bizarre versions of themselves. The more relaxed posture and discreet demeanors of the former contrasts with the off-center, confrontational and emotionally fake personality of the latter.

The film, funded and co-produced by Saint Laurent’s creative designer Anthony Vaccarello, starts with a droll, casual conversation between the protagonists before slips into a frantic work environment presented with busy split screens and populated by misguided and unsatisfied extras, a treacherous producer, an irritable director, a presumptuous cinematographer, and obnoxious outsiders who don’t respect anyone in the set. At this point, I was very much amused with the unprofessional, tense and maniacal ambiance depicted, as well as the set decoration by Samantha Benne.

Unfortunately, Noé resolved to explore a nihilistic avant-garde territory in the film’s last section, which culminates with pointless neon-soaked flashing visuals, an ominous score, and a general sense of cheap paranoia.

Lux Aeterna is a shamefully underdeveloped charade whose  uncomfortable viewing says absolutely nothing relevant in the end, apart from those quotations from directors such as Dreyer, Fassbinder and Godard.

Lapsis (2020)

Direction: Noah Hutton
Country: USA

Noah Hutton’s Lapsis may be catalogued as an independent sci-fi mystery-drama film set in a relatively near future, but all its satirized topics have considerable relevance in the present. 

The story follows Ray (Dean Imperial), a truck delivery man from Queens, New York, who despite unfamiliar with the tech world, is allured into the lucrative quantum computing business. Although suspicious of the safety within this environment, he starts cabling pre-defined routes in a forested upstate zone, not only to alleviate his own financial burden but also to provide an adequate, if expensive, treatment for his half brother, Jamie (Babe Howard), who struggles with a chronic fatigue disease.

Visibly out of shape, Ray has to compete with the relentless automated cars that patrol the forest, eventually learning how to slow them down with the help of Anna (Madeline Wise), an experienced, tech-savvy cabler. Through her, he will also find out why his work ID prompts his colleagues to act with such hostility toward him.

Rawly shot, Lapsis is far from any sort of visually attractive filmmaking, but that’s not the point here. The priority is to feed a spiral wave of shady mystery with moody atmospherics at the same time that unleashes observant social commentary about tech conspiracies, deficient health systems, and companies that increase the passive income of greedy CEOs by exploiting its employees. 

This fantasy is intimately linked to a painful reality, and leaves its mark. It’s likable, with tiny imperfections and a constant rhythmic beat of its own. Although not investing in any sort of climax, it provides unwavering entertainment throughout.

Enforcement (2021)

Direction: Frederik Louis Hviid, Anders Ølholm
Country: Denmark

The first feature film from the pair of Danish directors Frederik Louis Hviid and Anders Ølholm bring two police officers - the competent Jens Høyer (Simon Sears) and the antagonistic Mike Andersen (Jacob Lohmann) - into a labyrinthine ghetto ravaged by wild riots, looting and general chaos. The reason for this altercation is the death of an Arabic teen while in police custody. With distinct personalities and approaches clashing along the way, these cops in distress have a go at finding their way out, which would be impossible without the help of a young Arab, Amos (Tarek Zayat), whom they have previously stopped and frisked and then arrested. 

Enforcement relies on tense situations of conflict arranged at a furious pace, as well as a heavy dollop of fierce action that manages to create a good impact during its gripping first half. Unfortunately, the plot becomes weaker and the course of events too coincidental in a dissonant latter phase where the two agents see some generous former ‘enemies’ as their saviors. 

The moral ambiguities experienced by the policemen end up in an opportunistic cynicism that brings the film down, revealing an implausible game changer. 

Provocative yet unconvincing, Enforcement will serve more the interests of unconditional enthusiasts of the action genre than actually entertain those looking for a well-calibrated story.

Rose Plays Julie (2020)

Direction: Joe Lawlor, Christine Molloy
Country: Ireland / UK

The third feature film from the team of directors Joe Lawlor and Christine Molloy (Helen, 2008; Mister John, 2013) is a stone cold rape-revenge tale delivered with a deliberate resolve and languid pace. 

Rose Plays Julie is a subtle film of nuances that never really burns at the surface, rather adopting a deceptively passive posture while making calculated moves that lead us, unhurriedly yet assuredly, toward an unimaginable finale. 

The story, mostly set in Dublin, begins as Rose (Ann Skelly), a student of veterinary science who was given for adoption at birth, attempts to contact her biological mother, Ellen (Orla Brady), a celebrated actress. After knowing the motives that made her mother give up on her, she starts tracking down her father, Peter Doyle (Aidan Gillen), a successful archeologist who happens to be a noxious misogynist with a past stained by rape.

The stimulation comes from not knowing what are Rose’s real intentions, in this unremittingly hopeless tale with no room for forgiveness. In the end, it’s the darkness that prevails.

If you’re a fan of fast-paced, violent drama-thrillers, then this is not your dish. See it only if you want this genre to be served with prolonged sharp-tasting notes.

José (2020)

Direction: Li Cheng
Country: Guatemala / USA

The 19-year-old José (Enrique Salanic), who provides curbside meal services working for a restaurant, experiences a special, passionate, and ultimately unfulfilled homosexual relationship in the ultra-catholic yet violent contemporary Guatemala. Tangled up in the obstructive emotional manipulation of his mother (Ana Cecilia Mota), Jose renounces to an unprecedented chance to leave the country and pursue a better life in the company of Luis (Manolo Herrera), an adventurous Caribbean migrant he fell in love with. Instead, he prolongs the tortuous path that leads to frivolous sex liaisons.

Chinese-born writer/director Li Cheng populates the film with fine establishing shots and captures the dynamics of the city with raw authenticity. On the other hand, he exaggerates the frequency of the languid, repetitive sex scenes.

The minimal script is marginally extended by a side-plot focusing on Jose’s female co-worker, Monica (Jhakelyn Gonzalez), who becomes disheartened with the outcome of her short-lived straight relationship. All is played in a controlled minor key.

Anything but commercial, and featuring a cast of non-professional actors, this portrayal of romantic disillusion still resonates with a good slice of honesty in defiance to an imperfect editing and some forgivable structural irregularities.

Dead Pigs (2020)

Direction: Cathy Yan
Country: China / USA

Signaling a remarkable debut feature for the Chinese writer/director Cathy Yan (she is best known for her sophomore film, Birds of Prey), Dead Pigs is a caustic, dynamic and often hilarious comedy with a strong social bite. Its story, inspired by the real 2013 Huangpu River dead pigs incident, races with high energy and oozes a delicious humor that satisfies throughout.

At the center of the action, we have Old Wang (Haoyu Yang), an unfortunate pig farmer who desperately needs money to pay his mob creditors. His fearless and intractable sister, Candy (Vivian Wu is magnificent), is a beauty salon owner who stubbornly refuses to leave the old family house where she was born, which is being targeted by an insatiable Chinese real estate corporation. This company boasts an enthusiastic American architect, Sean Landry (David Rysdahl), as the champion of its  financial interests. 

Old Wang’s son, Wang Zhen (Mason Lee), is a busboy who sends every penny earned to his father, pretending he’s a successful businessman. He falls in love with Xia Xia (Meng Li), a wealthy young woman who finds out that her father is dating with her best friend.

Economic inequality and critical social gaps, modernization and gentrification, emotional dilemmas and complex family relationships, all these aspects are funneled into a system of satirical criticism, in a fluid, funny film that also plays with visual flamboyance, a relevant soundtrack, and cunning acting to make its point.

Night of the Kings (2020)

Direction: Philippe Lacôte
Country: Ivory Coast

Regardless if you’re in the mood or not for this type of fantasy thrillers, no one can accuse Ivorian writer/director Philippe Lacôte from not using his imagination in his third feature, Night of the Kings. The film chronicles the weirdest night in the life of a young pickpocket (Bakary Koné) recently admitted to the unparalleled Ivory Coast MACA prison, the only one in the world ruled by an inmate.

The prison’s master, Blackbeard (Steve Tientcheu), is sick and soon has to take his own life according to the rules of this remote prison located in the middle of the jungle. While his throne is highly disputed by the covetous inmates, Lass (Abdoul Karim Konaté) and Half-Mad (Jean Cyrille Digbeu), he welcomes the fresher into his cell and gives him the name Roman, the prince without kingdom whom he was expecting to appear any minute. Roman, the storyteller, is compelled to entertain the detainees during the special ‘red moon night' but is advised not to conclude his half-real, half-fantasized story about a legendary criminal called Zama King. In order to protect his own life, the story should be told until the next morning.

Lacôte seduces us into a confined web and then drops us into a cryptic world of fantasy often adorned by visual amazement. Although the prison life itself never feels authentic, there’s something deeply haunting here that gives the fable a spectral dimension. This nightmarish vibe is periodically eased by chants and choreography that, from my perspective, could have been less artistically elaborated. Nonetheless, there’s an undeniable originality in the making of this film, an entrancing prison drama centered around never-before-seen codes and rituals, and with a sharp political bite amidst the chimerical fragments.

Ammonite (2020)

Direction: Francis Lee
Country: UK

Ammonite is the sophomore feature from British director Francis Lee, who squeezes in a good portion of authenticity as a result of the symbiotic performances by Kate Winslet (Titanic; Sense and Sensibility) and Saoirse Ronan (Lady Bird; Little Women). Just like in his previous drama, God’s Own Country (2017), Lee addresses the topic of homosexuality, employing a specific backdrop marked by prejudice and conservatism. Even so, he manages to give the story a hopeful ending.

Set in the mid-19th-century England, the film was loosely inspired by the independent British paleontologist and fossil collector Mary Anning (Winslet), chronicling a hypothetical romance between the latter and Charlotte Murchison (Ronan), the quiet spouse of a wealthy visitor (James McArdle) with an interest in fossils. Convalescing from the loss of a baby, the melancholy Charlotte remains in the little seashore village of Lyme Regis for a few more weeks while her husband takes part in an expedition. During this period, she develops a special bond with Mary that will change their lives forever.

Combining the realism of the unpolished milieu and the sensitivity of a quietly passionate romance, the film gives a fine perspective to the changing role of women at a particularly difficult time for intimate same-sex relationships. 

Although exuding a pleasing old-fashioned appeal, the film owes less to the course of its plot than to the authentic performances. In the absence of surprise, it’s precisely the decorous acting of the leads and the peculiar luminosity in the work of French cinematographer Stéphane Fontaine, who worked with Jacques Audiard, Paul Verhoeven and Pablo Larraín, that make the film worth seeing.

The Wild Goose Lake (2020)

Direction: Diao Yinan
Country: China

The most attractive aspect of The Wild Goose Lake, Diao Yinan’s fourth directorial feature, is the raw and miserable backdrop where the story takes place. The film depicts a particular crime world that incorporates Jia Zhangke’s raw aesthetics, Wong Kar-wai’s dreamy-yet-tense ambiance, and the violent gangster ways that go with the taste of directors like John Woo and Andrew Lau. All this is wrapped in an uncanny aura. 

The story centers on a doomed gangster (Ge Hu) and the woman (Gwei Lun-Mei) who will help him put the hefty bounty on his head in the hands of his estranged wife (Regina Wan). Compellingly shot but sluggishly mounted, the film denotes a brutal intensity in its opposite extremities but remains in a morose, torpid state in a middle part where everyone is watching everyone with barely no development coming from there.

Given that the film lingers too much in such trivial scenes, patience is required, yet the obscure cinematography by Jingsong Dong (Long Day's Journey Into Night, 2018) is a factor that definitely deserves attention. 

More entrancing than unsettling, this thriller is sort of dismissive of its audience, promulgating style over substance while apparently unaware of the emotional shallowness that emanates from the observant dispassion of Yinan’s lens. There’s an undercurrent of anxiety navigating the calm waters, sometimes so subtle that we get the feeling that some scenes are missing and others are purposely stretched out to fill those gaps. Unquestionably, a peculiar experience.

Fourteen (2020)

Direction: Dan Sallitt
Country: USA

A good friendship is certainly a life-enhancing blessing, especially when the people involved contribute selflessly. Well, that’s not exactly the case with the two well-built female characters in Fourteen, a modern-day drama set in New York. Here, a childhood bond deteriorates over the course of a decade and the reasons behind that transformation, which gradually shifts from closeness to estrangement, are subtler than just having distinct personalities and approaches to life, as well as opposite states of mind and ambitions.

Contrasting with Mara (Tallie Medel), a teacher’s aide, who is very generous, unfailing, and down-to-earth, Jo (Norma Kuhling), a social worker, emerges as a volatile, irresponsible and needy person, struggling with a more serious problem than temporary alcohol and drug addictions. The painful emotional conflicts she goes through and the frequent selfish posture adopted keep away partners and friends, undermining her chances to be happy.

The American writer/director Dan Sallitt (The Unspeakable Act, 2012) finds the right narrative pulse for this slight tale, which develops with emotional insight and cerebral pragmatism. The filmmaking is simple and focused (with Maurice Pialat as a major influence); the performances engage in naturalistic intensities; and the New York background provides it a special touch that, together with the dramatic stimuli of the story, are enough to warrant a more than satisfactory viewing. 

Contradicting a recent tendency in the independent drama genre, Fourteen has a darker edge to it, but refuses to fall into immoderately lugubrious places, often plunging the inner disquietness of each character into an apparent tranquility and dissolving it in the daily life routines.