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.