Daddio (2024)

Direction: Christy Hall
Country: USA

Christy Hall's feature debut, Daddio, is a lackluster two-character drama that desperately seeks attention but fails to capture any. Set during a long cab ride from JFK airport to midtown Manhattan, the film—originally conceived as a stage play—stars Sean Penn as a chatty, self-important cab driver and Dakota Johnson as his passenger, a seemingly confident yet emotionally fragile woman returning to New York after visiting her estranged half-sister in Oklahoma. 

Visually dull and conversationally uninspired, Daddio lacks depth, maturity, and emotional resonance. The dialogue, filled with shallow confessions, unearned conclusions, and awkward laughs, does little to develop the characters beyond superficial traits. Penn's occasional watery eyes never feel authentic, and it's hard to believe Johnson's forced nonchalance and sudden curiosity about a stranger who seems to read and understand her. 

At its core, Daddio is void of any spark or substance. The film trudges along without ever offering anything fresh or meaningful, leaving the audience to wonder: why should we care? It feels like watching paint dry—only less captivating. 

The Substance (2024)

Direction: Coralie Fargeat
Country: USA

Coralie Fargeat’s sophomore feature, The Substance, is set to be hailed as the shock film of the year. A grotesque blend of body horror with sharp satirical overtones, it escalates in bizarre intensity until it reaches the brink of madness.

The film stars Demi Moore as Elisabeth Sparkle, an aging TV star who injects a miraculous substance designed to unlock her DNA, creating a younger, more beautiful version of herself. That version is played with mischievous charm by Margaret Qualley. However, Sparkle fails to adhere to the crucial condition—switch bodies every seven days—and struggles to comprehend the delicate balance needed for both versions to coexist.

The pumped up narrative swirls us up in this woman's obsession, invoking the transgressive and visceral visual traits reminiscent of David Cronenberg and John Carpenter. At its best, the film maintains a tense and unnerving atmosphere, but just as it has you on the edge of your seat, it spirals into gratuitous violence and excessive gore.

Fargeat's creation is undeniably horrific, but she pushes it too far, especially in the final act. The relentless gore feels less like a narrative necessity and more like a transgressive indulgence, ultimately undermining the careful creepiness that initially made it gripping. The last section is so filthy and exaggerated that it risks alienating viewers, leaving one to wonder why the director chose to tarnish what could have been a chillingly effective film.

The Substance is nauseating but undeniably powerful, shocking yet audacious. It’s an outrageously bloodthirsty dark fantasy that demands a strong stomach. Had Fargeat reined in the excess, it could have been a standout horror. Nevertheless, both Moore and Qualley deliver striking performances.

Kneecap (2024)

Direction: Rich Peppiatt
Country: Ireland / UK

Kneecap is an ebullient, schizophrenic biopic about the Belfast-based hip-hop trio of the same name, which unexpectedly became the symbol of a civil rights movement dedicated to preserving their native language. Written and directed by Rich Peppiatt, the film thrives on the impetuosity of the rappers—Liam, Naoise, and JJ—their energetic music, anarchic irreverence, and the politically charged atmosphere of Northern Ireland. Though the film occasionally wavers between authenticity and promotional flair, it delivers enough sharp moments and humor to keep audiences engaged. 

While the true story is refreshingly original, the film’s sensationalist execution—marked by a fast editing and bouncing rhythm—feels like a pastiche of Trainspotting (1996) and 8 Mile (2002), with a dash of Guy Ritchie’s gangster flair thrown in the mix. Despite leaning on a familiar formula and evoking a sense of déjà vu, there’s a palpable passion driving the project. This gritty urban narrative brashly entertains, capturing the rebellious spirit of a trio criticized for glorifying drug use, anti-social behavior, and violence in their lyrics. As they pursue success, they must navigate opposition from Ulster-loyal police, politicians, and dangerous paramilitary groups. Without breaking new ground, Kneecap effectively captures the spark and controversy surrounding the group.

How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies (2024)

Direction: Pat Boonnitipat
Country: Thailand 

The intergenerational comedy drama How To Make Millions Before Grandma Dies is a temperate charmer, though it wrestles with some predictability in its plot. Directed and co-written by 34-year-old filmmaker Pat Boonnitipat in his feature debut, the film manages to strike an emotional chord while maintaining a light touch. The narrative centers on M (Putthipong "Billkin" Assaratanakul), a college dropout and compulsive gamer with a tendency to squander money. He volunteers to care for his 79-year-old grandmother (Usha "Taew" Seamkhum), who is dying from stomach cancer, but his motives are questionable from the start.

Despite uneven, the film delivers a feel-good experience, offering a sober and bittersweet reflection on family relationships. It can be quite mellow in spots but definitely not choppy, celebrating cranky grandmothers with big hearts and fierce independence. Even in its most painful moments, How to Make Millions retains a sense of gentleness, thanks to an accumulation of small details—both sad and funny—that make the characters relatable and endearing. Seamkhum, in particular, delivers a standout performance, grounding the film in authenticity. 

It’s not hard to guess where the story goes, but this Asian neo-realist effort sincerely acknowledges the sadness of being near death with both heartbreaking and heartwarming gestures. Boonnitipat makes an unabashedly sentimental move with an irresistible sweetness.

Close Your Eyes (2024)

Direction: Victor Erice
Country: Spain

Victor Erice, the masterful Spanish writer-director known for iconic films such as The Spirit of the Beehive (1973), El Sur (1983), and Dream of Light (1992), returns after more than three decades with another cinematic gem, Close Your Eyes. Set in 2012 Madrid, the film follows Miguel Garay (Manolo Solo), a filmmaker who is invited by a TV show to share his testimony about his best friend, famous actor Julio Arenas (José Coronado), who mysteriously disappeared 22 years earlier without a trace.. 

Close Your Eyes is a masterclass in structure, meticulously shot with intimate close-ups and an engrossing three-hour narrative. It restores faith in cinema, serving as a haunting tribute to both the medium's history and the endurance of deep friendships. Erice wields a radical simplicity and purity of gaze that only a true cinematic master can command. Every scene is given exactly the time it needs, every camera movement is intentional, and the dialogue captivates as it weaves a relatable tale of mystery, nostalgia, and the search for meaning. 

I also found curious how Erice, without being conservative, shows the changes of time with an elegant subtlety. At 83 years old, and with only four feature films to his name, Erice has an unparalleled ability to evoke mood, time, and place with a light, yet poignant, touch. Beautiful moments like the reunion between Garay and his former girlfriend (Soledad Villamil) radiate warmth and nostalgia, with melancholy lingering just beneath the surface, triggering immediate emotions and fleeting intuitions.

While quiet in tone, Close Your Eyes is rich in character and atmosphere, offering an immersive experience with the timeless quality of a classic.

Eureka (2024)

Direction: Lisandro Alonso
Country: Argentina / France / other

Lisandro Alonso, the Argentine director of the picturesque neo-western Jauja (2014), returns with Eureka, an ambitious triptych that explores the fate of Indigenous communities in the Americas through a time-lapsing narrative.The film begins as a black-and-white Western set on the U.S.-Mexico border in 1870, shifts to a contemporary Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota, and concludes in the Brazilian Amazon rainforest. Each segment is marked by distinct tones and moods, yet they are bound together by a common thread and a quirky migratory bird that traverses time.

Presented with long, static shots and a meditative pace, Eureka demands patience, offering an interplay of feverish dreams and esotericism that contrast with the underlying sadness, depression, and frustration that make everything so human. What is fascinating here is how Alonso is unafraid to shoulder the full weight of a tragic past on a defiantly uncertain future. Yet, you can expect opacity and tedium in a minute, and sharp clarity in the next. The result is a film that oscillates between sensuous beauty and mounting discomfort.

While the first story features well-known actors Viggo Mortensen and Chiara Mastroianni, much of the film relies on non-professional actors, lending an authenticity to the raw, earthy experiences depicted. Nonetheless, the inexplicability of the immaterial can also be found, creating mystery. Eureka is visually stunning, bolstered by the work of cinematographers Mauro Herce (Fire Will Come, 2019) and Timo Salminen (Aki Kaurismaki’s frequent collaborator). Alonso’s influences are felt throughout, evoking shades of Howard Hawks, Werner Herzog, and Ciro Guerra in his profound meditation on time, history, and the enduring struggles of Indigenous peoples.

Crossing (2024)

Direction: Levan Akin
Country: Georgia / Turkey / other

Crossing is a poignant drama about identity, regret, and resilience. For his fourth feature, director Levan Akin (And Then We Danced, 2019) draws inspiration from a real-life story—a Georgian grandfather who chose to support his transgender granddaughter, defying the rest of the family. The film, rooted in heartbreak and sadness, offers us a different perspective though, presenting a heartfelt plea for acceptance while offering a narrative grounded in love and hope. 

Akin, of Georgian origin but born in Sweden, shapes his characters with remarkable accuracy and decisive detail. Surprisingly centered and measured, he avoids exploiting the emotional weight of the story or shying away from its depth, offering valuable insight into the challenges faced by trans communities. 
The storyline revolves around Lia (Mzia Arabuli), a retired history teacher from Batumi, Georgia, who embarks on a journey to Istanbul in search of her long-lost niece. Her companionship with a young man, Anchi (Lucas Kankava), who is also searching for his mother and a better life, makes the trip feel less lonely. 

Crossing is crafted with some rough, heartbreaking moments but also with a level of intimacy that makes it engrossing and profound. The lead performances are phenomenal, with the chemistry between Arabuli and Kankava imbuing the narrative with authenticity. Together, they elevate the film into powerful, earthy drama likely to captivate hearts and minds.

My First Film (2024)

Direction: Zia Anger
Country: USA

In My First Film, filmmaker Zia Anger, known for her music videos for alternative singer/songwriter Mitski, ventures into meta-cinema by reflecting on the failure of her first feature attempt. The story starts off pleasurably introspective with an indie vibe, but gradually burns our patience with redundant scenes that go around in circles. At 100 minutes, it feels much longer, and for good reason—the narrative gradually loses its grip, spiraling into a disappointing, self-indulgent conclusion. 

While some experimentalism is welcomed, and Australian actress Odessa Young does the best she can, the film becomes so taken with itself, that we have no option but disconnect from it. Is this a personal diary, a therapeutic hallucination, a fictional whim, or a cry for help? Perhaps all of the above. And it’s not incoherence that drags the film down but rather its exhausting execution, which ultimately fails to make us care about the characters. 

Anger, who briefly appears in the movie to thank her actress (or herself), showcases boldness that could bear fruit in future projects. But for now, I’ll have to pass on these supposedly dovetailed ideas about artistic creation and gestation as sometimes sitting through this film feels like chewing on cardboard—bland and disengaging, with both joy and sorrow strangely out of reach.

Rebel Ridge (2024)

Direction: Jeremy Saulnier
Country: USA

Rebel Ridge is a gripping crime thriller written and directed by Jeremy Saulnier, who, despite exploring new tones, remains true to the spirit of his filmmaking style. In his fifth directorial effort, Saulnier delivers a taut, intense film that keeps viewers hooked from start to finish, brimming with a sticky, vicious atmosphere and a relentless sense of unease. At its core, the film tells the story of a man doing what’s right in the face of injustice. 

The director has an ace up his sleeve in the form of Aaron Pierre, who, making use of an impressive restraint, gives a convincing performance as Terry Richmond, a former Marine who tries to bail his cousin out of jail in a broke, small American town where police corruption reigns. To confront the provocations of Chief Sandy Burnne (Don Johnson) and his racist crew, Richmond, who silently boasts a particular set of skills, welcomes the assistance of a young lawyer (AnnaSophia Robb) marked by a troubled past. 

Though the script may not dive deep into complex layers, Pierre’s portrayal of a decent man, disrespected and pushed to his limits, lends emotional weight and authenticity to the film. Saulnier, known for the brutality and darkness of Blue Ruin (2013) and Green Room (2015), opts for a more measured approach here. He crafts a thrilling ride filled with suspense, permanent tension, and tight action sequences. Rebel Ridge moves with confidence, combining raw intensity with a streamlined narrative that evokes a modern Rambo. It’s a well-executed crime thriller that positions Saulnier as a rising master of the genre, offering a dynamite-packed summer hit.

Didi (2024)

Direction: Sean Wang
Country: USA

Didi is a thoughtful and heartwarming coming-of-age comedy-drama that offers a slice of Asian-American life, marking the debut of Taiwanese filmmaker Sean Wang, who also wrote and produced. The film draws on his personal experiences growing up in the Bay Area, delivering an authentic and emotionally rich narrative.

Set in Fremont, California, the story follows 13-year-old Chris (Izaac Wang) who grapples with family tensions, the awkwardness and insecurities of first love, and guilt over past mischief. At the same time, he navigates the complexities of friendship, discovering a passion for videography and skateboarding. An introspective posture mixed with inopportune words creates challenges in expressing his true self.

Chris’ struggles are presented with realism and relatability, immersing viewers in the embarrassment and cringe-worthy moments of adolescence as he tries to carve out his own identity. Didi delivers both funny laughs and meaningful moments. It’s an understatedly charming little movie that hits the mark; a debut with a real heart that radiates vulnerability, resilience, and authenticity, offering plenty of pleasurable rewards.

The performances are the heart of this observant film bolstered by a sharp-witted script that explores and examines teenage angst and frustration. Wang is certainly someone with a promising future, layering all the dramatic elements with poise and weaving together humor and drama into an engaging story that feels both personal and universal. The competent cast, which includes Joan Chen as Chris’ single mother, gives us reasons to care about the characters in this gratifying contribution to on-screen cross-cultural teen environment.

Red Island (2024)

Direction: Robin Campillo
Country: France 

After a six-year hiatus, Robin Campillo—known for Eastern Boys (2013) and 120 BPM (2017)— returns with Red Island, a semi-autobiographical drama inspired by his childhood in Madagascar in the early ‘70s. While the film aims to portray a personal story and a broader reflection of a wounded nation still under French rule, it often feels more like a diffuse dream than a compelling coming-of-age tale. 

The narrative centers around Thomas (Charlie Vauselle), a sensitive eight-year-old boy who is obsessed with female superhero Fantomette, a fascination he shares with his observant friend, Suzanne (Cathy Pham). Thomas is the youngest son of Colette (Nadia Tereszkiewicz), a disenchanted housewife, and Robert Lopez (Quim Gutiérrez), a French Army officer stationed at Madagascar’s military base 181, awaiting orders to leave the country. While Thomas finds solace in the fantasy worlds suggested by his comic books, he has a hard time understanding the bored adults around him. 

Despite its personal significance, Red Island suffers from a lack of clear narrative direction. Campillo’s well-intentioned but largely meandering approach succumbs to a melancholic tone and a lack of ambition. While the film is intimate and deeply political, it often feels too skeletal, failing to fully flesh out its themes. The final act, which abruptly shifts focus from the family dynamic to the Malagasy people’s struggle for freedom after twelve years of forged independence, feels underdeveloped and incomplete. 

Though there are moments of emotional depth and strong performances—Nadia Tereszkiewicz is phenomenal—Red Island ultimately doesn’t live up to expectations, becoming a film that is more fragmented than fully realized.

Strange Darling (2024)

Direction: JT Mollner
Country: USA 

JT Mollner delivers a sledgehammer blow to the audience with his sophomore feature, Strange Darling, a violent, electrifying, and psychologically twisted thriller designed to shock and unsettle. Shot in 35mm and presented in six non-linear chapters that subvert conventional thriller narratives, the film unfolds in rural Oregon in the 1970s, carving a bloody path while generating palpable suspense and a constant sense of dread. 

Darkly humorous and perversely amusing, the film provokes queasiness and anxiety, ensnaring viewers in a tangled web of questions about motivations and personality disorders. The vicious game is rendered with sharp close-ups, unexpected twists, and appropriate use of light, sound, and editing. Mollner reveals this routine inclination to extract poetic resonance from moments of pain and bloodshed—an artfully conceived exercise in disturbance, but not particularly cerebral. Still, the film succeeds by refusing to let the audience catch their breath, compelling them to accept it on its own, wild terms.

Without revealing the serial killer’s past, Strange Darling would form a compelling triptych with Coralie Fargeat’s Revenge (2017) and Ti West’s MaXXXine (2024). It’s a visceral, provocative, darkly feminist thriller that occasionally laces its brutality with humor. Willa Fitzgerald (The Goldfinch, 2019) seizes her moment to shine, but it’s Kyle Gallner (Dinner in America, 2020) who truly stands out. A special mention goes to Giovanni Ribisi, the former actor and first-time cinematographer, for his impressive work behind the camera.

Kinds of Kindnes (2024)

Direction: Yorgos Lanthimos
Country: USA

Collaborating once again with screenwriter Efthimis Filippou, Greek filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos offers a cruel absurdist triptych that is too zany to be taken seriously. The film features a recurring A-list ensemble cast—including Emma Stone, Willem Defoe, Jesse Plemons, Hong Chau, and Margaret Qualley—in three dark stories about empowerment, where controllers/abusers humiliate those under their control. It is illogic, extreme, sexually daring, and obsessively moody, embodying a contemporary exploitation of relationships whose levels of darkness are deeply unfamiliar.

Visually neat, the film is filled with farces and traps, embracing a stylized approach that often succumbs to its more nonsensical ideas. If Poor Things (2023) was irreverent and magically astute, Kinds of Kindness feels tiresome in its fixation on provocation and shock, dwelling in gloomy places for 164 minutes. While it occasionally achieves a hypnotic intensity, the experience ultimately feels aggressively unsatisfying. 

Frustrating in its irrational depictions of life, this anthology film feels more like an indulgent exercise in Lanthimos and Filippou’s signature weirdness and attention-grabbing writing. Potentially interesting ideas simply can't fill the emotional void at the film's core—a disappointment, given that Lanthimos has demonstrated inventive brilliance in films like Dogtooth (2009), The Favourite (2018), The Lobster (2015), and the aforementioned Poor Things. Viewers seeking more substance than mere shock value may find themselves infuriated by this latest offering.

Oddity (2024)

Direction: Damian McCarthy
Country: Ireland

Oddity, a slow-blooming portrait of doomed love, immediately thrusts its audience into a realm of disquiet and discomfort. With a Hitchcockian mood and tone, the film itself is a cinematic oddity, playing well with symbolism and emotions but failing at cohere completely.  

Surreally mounted and beautifully shot, Oddity follows Darcy Odello (Carolyn Bracken), a blind token-objet reader woman and antique shop owner who decides to investigate her twin sister’s murder one year after it happened. Armed with a mysterious wooden figure, she stays at the country house where her sister was killed, allegedly by a former patient of her psychiatrist husband, Ted Timmis (Gwilym Lee). 

Without straining to make an obvious point, the director Damian McCarthy (Caveat, 2020) builds tension as we keep gaining interest, teasing before delivering a few well-placed chills. His proclivity for the horror genre is no fluke, but his sophomore feature is one to be savored for its atmosphere than remembered for its impact. Oddity unfortunately culminates in a bland, disappointing finale, one that is more amusing than spooky. While the film doesn't totally click on all fronts, there is enough darkness in its DNA to satisfy enthusiasts of the genre.

The Goldman Case (2024)

Direction: Cédric Kahn
Country: France

The Goldman Case is an insightful, raw, and nervy courtroom drama set in the mid-‘70s that fascinates as much for its portrayal of an era as for its exploration of justice. Directed by Cédric Kahn (Red Lights, 2004; The Prayer, 2018), it’s a semi-autobiographical work based on the second trial of Pierre Goldman (masterfully portrayed by Arieh Worthalter), a far-left militant accused of four armed robberies and the murder of two women. Facing life imprisonment, Goldman is defended by a passionate young lawyer, Georges Kiejman (Arthur Harari), who, like him, is a Polish Jew born in France to a modest background. The accused concedes to the label of “gangster” but vehemently denies being a murderer, asserting his innocence in the ambiguous killings. 

The film begins discreetly, almost academically, but gradually imposes its rigor and style. Goldman’s case hinges on a shaky alibi, conflicting witnesses, and affecting testimonies from his girlfriend and father. Justice is explored in its very human giddiness when no scientific proof comes to its rescue, and aspects such as racism, anti-Semitism, xenophobic police, and more, emerge in its complex societal forms. 

Kahn collaborated with Nathalie Hertzberg in the screenplay, choosing to fictionalize elements by blending Goldman’s two trials and drawing from his book. Yet, the film is so well directed and intensely acted that it's hard not to take it. It values speech without grandiloquence and avoids dramatic flourishes while exposing the fragility of truth and the difficulty of judging. It's a pleasure to get wrapped up in such a thoughtfully conceived and stirringly executed reconstruction, one delivered with gripping rhythm, fervent passion, and a clear form. With The Goldman Case, Kahn signs his most memorable film to date.

Alien: Romulus (2024)

Direction: Fede Alvarez
Country: USA 

Set chronologically between the first two films of the saga, Alien: Romulus marks a return to the basics, reviving the franchise with a blend of old and new elements. Without Sigourney Weaver, this visually captivating, energetic, and intense science-fiction horror flick is enhanced by magnificent sets and thrilling action sequences. It relies on a rejuvenated cast that delivers, even if most of the characters lack full definition. The standout exception is Rain (Cailee Spaeny), a young space colonizer who, along with her friends and humanoid brother, explores an abandoned space station named Romulus, only to face the most terrifying life forms in the universe.

Directed by Fede Alvarez (Evil Dead, 2013; Don’t Breathe, 2016), who co-wrote with frequent collaborator Rodo Sayagues, the film is invested with awe-inspiring ingenuity in some sequences and details for the sake of a deliriously entertaining experience. While it borrows elements from its predecessors, it still manages to find originality in its design and tone, delivering impactful moments. The beast’s drool still causes some frisson; the velocious, creepy Facehuggers inject new excitement; and the humanoids makes us feel the coldness and indifference of machines. 

Alvarez directs with a blend of technique and artistry, crafting a visually arresting experience. He knows how to create suspense in confined, claustrophobic places and pumps this new chapter with nauseating fluids and relentless adrenaline. Alien: Romulus never reaches the potential of Ridley Scott’s original or James Cameron’s sequel, but it’s terrifically executed and, just the same, viscerally monstrous.

In Our Day (2024)

Direction: Hong Sang-soo
Country: South Korea

Korean director Hong Sang-soo's 30th feature, In Our Day, is a breezy, minor effort that may not be particularly thought-provoking but is deeply explorative of life and art. With his trademark understated style, Hong once again embraces simplicity, allowing the melancholy undertones of the film to ebb and flow without pointing toward any specific destination.

In Our Day seems to carry an autobiographical touch, presenting two parallel stories that involve established artists and their younger admirers, who are curious about their careers and perspectives. The film’s naturalistic staging, dialogue, and human interactions lean toward minimalism, yet there are subtle but significant details woven throughout. It’s a double moral tale that gets the form of a plotless slow burn, stripped of complexity and anchored by serene performances from an ensemble cast that makes it as breezy as a stroll in Central Park. 

Hong himself frames the film with meticulous attention to image composition, adding a layer of visual care that compensates for the film’s modest ambitions. In Our Day may not be mind-blowing in its ideas, but it radiates warmth and gentle humor. It's a human and occasionally touching film, though it demands patience from viewers, asking them to find pleasure in the small moments and connect with its characters, a task that may not always come easily. 

Janet Planet (2024)

Direction: Annie Baker
Country: USA

The feature debut of filmmaker Annie Baker, Janet Planet, is an absorbing drama that deserves your attention. Set in rural Massachusetts in 1991, the film poignantly captures the emotional complexities and uncertainty of a volatile single mother (Julianne Nicholson), who works as an acupuncturist, and her lonely, highly dependent 11-year-old daughter (Zoe Ziegler). Their lives are momentarily altered by the arrival of three different people, leading to a story that is both patiently observant and ultimately caustic. The film provides an unnervingly naturalistic look at a teen's life, anchored by convincing central performances, with the potent chemistry between the mother and daughter being crucial to the film’s success.

Janet Planet earns its dramatic moments through strong writing, unexpected outcomes, and a nice restraint. The film effectively contrasts the maturity found in some of the conversations between mother and daughter with the imbalance of some of the mother’s choices. Despite being presented in an unhurried, episodic manner, the nearly two-hour runtime never feels sluggish. The screenplay's subtlety and quality stand out, maintaining a steady yet delightfully quirky tone throughout. 

It’s safe to say that Baker has a promising career as a filmmaker and storyteller ahead of her, as all the elements are assembled with prudent sincerity, building a story that is both touching and deeply affecting. Janet Planet is a rare gem, so earnest in its approach that it resonates with a poignant, almost painful, honesty.

The Monk and the Gun (2024)

Direction: Pawo Choyning Dorji
Country: Bhutan / other

From Pawo Choyning Dorji, the Bhutanese director of Lunana: a Yak in the Classroom (2019), comes The Monk and the Gun, a light comedy-drama set against the backdrop of Bhutan's first democratic election. This formerly isolated monarchic country, now encountering the internet and TV for the first time, serves as the setting for a story that piques our curiosity from the start. 

Written by Dorji, the story pikes our curiosity about the intention of the village’s lama who, during his meditation retreat, asks his assistant monk (Tandin Wangchuk) to bring him two guns for a mysterious ceremony scheduled for the election day. As the debate between modernizing or maintaining traditions creates friction among villagers and disruption in families, an American gun collector (Harry Einhorn) arrives in town to buy a rare old rifle, with the local Benji (Tandin Sonam) acting as the mediator. 

Whether seen it as an original moral tale or a modern fable, this well-tempered and didactic film remains engaging despite minor plot quibbles and occasional pacing issues. Painted with tenderness and a subtle yet delightful humor, this canvas also serves as an ode to Bhutan’s sublime landscape, celebrating pacifism and tolerance with inspiring simplicity and spiritual appeal.

The film’s peaceful, idyllic tones underscore its message of compassion and peace triumphing over suffering, hatred, and aggression. The Monk and the Gun offers a relaxing and deeply felt portrait of the Bhutanese people, with its educational value standing out as invaluable. Dorji’s perspective is bracing, and his film a serene experience.

There's Still Tomorrow (2024)

Direction: Paola Cortellesi
Country: Italy

Paola Cortellesi, widely recognized in Italy as a TV presenter and comedian, as well as for her diverse roles in film, television, and theatre, makes a powerful directorial debut with There’s Still Tomorrow. This black-and-white feminist manifesto, which she co-wrote and stars in, is a bold political comedy-drama that confronts patriarchy head-on. It channels the spirit of classic Italian cinema, evoking the pink neorealism of directors like Luigi Comencini and Dino Risi, all while overflowing with style and determination. 

Set in the 1940s, the film strikes a delicate balance between laughs and tears as it follows the challenging life of Delia (Cortellesi), a hardworking woman who endures daily physical abuse at the hands of her obnoxious war veteran husband Ivano (Valerio Mastandrea). Instead of voicing her suffering, Delia chooses to silently endure the pain and quietly save money, all while plotting her own form of resistance. 

Infused with a quiet yet righteous anger, the film is caricatural in many ways, disguising the scenes of brutality with romantic songs and dancing moves. It even facilitaties a bit here and there in terms of plot, but remains compelling, vivid, and intoxicating. With its strong visuals and a crucial message of resilience and hope, this film holds nothing back—and what’s not to love about that?

Cortellesi shines, addressing the sensitive topic of domestic violence with tact and a deliberate avoidance of melodrama, opting instead for a slightly offbeat tone that is further enhanced by the film's anachronistic soundtrack. The surprising ending takes viewers to a completely different direction, and I was amazed how much I started to care about the main character. There’s Still Tomorrow drives home a narrative that is both deeply engaging and impactful, successfully resonating with audiences while delivering a powerful message of women’s emancipation.