April (2025)

Direction: Dea Kulumbegashvili
Country: Georgia 

Produced by Luca Guadagnino (Call me By Your Name, 2017) and directed by Dea Kulumbegashvili (Beginning, 2020), who strives to go beyond the simple exposition of a controversial topic, April denounces patriarchal abuses in the Georgian countryside through long shots and anguished tones. 

The plot follows Nina (Ia Sukhitashvili), an experienced obstetrician accused of performing illegal abortions in the village. Solitary, she does what she must, sometimes becoming a stranger to herself. Responsibility clashes with the law in a quiet and lugubrious character study, where sinister realities can morph into quirky surrealism. This is a tough cookie of a film—visually jarring and emotionally despondent, as if Christian Mungiu had joined forces with Carlos Reygadas in ambiguous gestures filled with raw authenticity and layered metaphor. 

Substance prevails over form in a film where unspoken fear, rage, and alienation permeate the oppressive cinematic space. At times, it’s almost too uncomfortable to endure, with brutality and fragility in constant confrontation, making for a slow-paced experience that, while laudable in intention, often feels overwhelmingly static. 

One of the oddest films I’ve seen lately, April wasn’t a pleasant experience for me, but I do understand its point. I tolerated its radical, open-to-question aesthetics to learn more about the rebelliousness and inner decay of its main character. A shame that its art-house tactics tarnish much of the story’s emotional impact.

Wild Diamond (2025)

Direction: Agathe Riedinger
Country: France 

Wild Diamond tells the story of Liane Pougy, a relentless 19-year-old influencer who dreams of joining a reality TV show at any cost. This character had already taken centre stage in director Agathe Riedinger’s 2017 short film J’Attends Jupiter. Now, Riedinger makes her directorial feature debut with a bold foray into the world of fame and social media—offering a sharp reflection of our times.

Liane (Malou Khebizi) lives in Fréjus, a French city that evokes both hedonistic leisure and the grit of English working-class towns. At home, she’s stuck with an emotionally distant mother—who regularly brings sugar daddies home—and a tender younger sister. She prays to Saint Joseph and considers buttock augmentation, clinging to an artificial glitter while impatiently chasing easy fame. Her growing despair drives her to take dangerous risks.

Khebizi is the true diamond of the film in a quite impressive first appearance on the big screen. Trapped between a glossy fantasy and a bleak reality, Liane is a portrait of someone whose biggest aspirations become the very obstacles to her happiness. Riedinger shoots in a confrontational, intimate style, using a 4:3 aspect ratio to heighten the rawness of the characters and setting. Yet, the film occasionally stumbles, with minor plot stagnation and a couple of distracting and ineffective on-screen texts.

By the end, it feels like we’ve only skimmed the surface—but Wild Diamond still hits a very specific bullseye. How it affects you will almost certainly depend on your current relationship with social media and reality television. Flaws aside, this is a film worth wrestling with—brimming with electricity, as if told through the fingertips.

The Shrouds (2025)

Direction: David Cronenberg
Country: USA 

David Cronenberg wrote The Shrouds in response to the death of his wife in 2017. Despite this deeply personal origin, the film’s uninspired delirium begins with a promisingly tense atmosphere only to unravel into something muddled and ultimately hollow. The Canadian filmmaker returns to his signature obsessions—mutilation fused with macabre romanticism, fixation on death and the body, espionage, and futuristic technology. eXistenZ (1999) and Crash (1996) naturally come to mind, yet this time the concoction feels undercooked, lacking soul, coherence, and genuine emotional weight.

The plot follows an inconsolable corpse voyeur (Vincent Cassel, in his third collaboration with Cronenberg) who harbors a disturbing fascination with his late wife’s body and cemeteries. However, the story quickly gets bogged down in contrived, exhausting dialogue and stilted staging. Delivered at a glacial pace, the bland narrative nearly lulled me to sleep. Adding to the confusion is the film’s tech subplot, clouded by mysterious hackers and vague conspiracy theories involving Chinese and Russian corporations.

Whatever suspense the film tries to build evaporates almost instantly. What a futile and misguided movie this is! - certainly one of Cronenberg’s biggest flops to date. At 82, one has to wonder if Cronenberg has lost his touch—both in direction and in his ability to truly engage the viewer, as mortuary enigma mutates into incoherent drivel.

28 Years Later (2025)

Direction: Danny Boyle
Country: UK 

If you’re into post-apocalyptic chaos, then 28 Years Later may be a visceral treat for you. Director Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, 1996; 28 Days Later, 2002; Slumdog Millionaire, 2008) and screenwriter Alex Garland (Ex-Machina, 2014; Civil War, 2024) reunite for the conclusion of a trilogy—and the launch of a new one. Several sequences were shot on the iPhone 15 Pro Max, with Anthony Dod Mantle’s stunning cinematography playing a crucial role in the film’s visual magnetism.

A community of survivors has taken refuge on a small island, accessible to the mainland only via a treacherous road. Twelve-year-old Spike (Alfie Williams) ventures to the mainland for the first time with his father, Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), to learn how to kill the infected and survive on his own. Along the way, he discovers the existence of Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), the only person who may be able to save his ailing mother (Jodie Comer).

Delivered with breathless pacing and indomitable energy, 28 Years Later veers from rage to reflection without ever slipping into monotony. The infected fade into the background, with the story focusing more intently on the emotional complexities of family and the fragile relationships among the uninfected. This made me want to go along unquestioningly. Vicious yet full of heart and humanity, the film ultimately becomes a celebration of life.

Boyle approaches the material with offbeat flair, making this installment tonally distinct from its predecessors. If you’re going to revisit a dusty premise, you’d better be inventive—and both Boyle and Garland rise to the challenge. The result is a bloody, wildly entertaining odyssey brimming with risks and perils. Nia DaCosta (Little Woods, 2018; Candyman, 2021) is set to direct 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple, scheduled for release in January 2026.

Materialists (2025)

Direction: Celine Song
Country: USA

Materialists, the sophomore feature from Canadian helmer Celine Song, is a romantic excursion where love can be negotiated like a business deal. Not as irresistible as Song’s debut Past Lives (2023) and perhaps a bit too safe in its proceedings, Materialists is nonetheless rich in, character, dilemmas, and conflicts that spark debate about life’s priorities. Its message feels particularly timely.

The plot centers on Lucy (Dakota Johnson), a young, charming, and successful New York matchmaker who finds herself entangled in a love triangle. A serious incident involving one of her elite clients deeply affects her, forcing a drastic shift in her life. Her suitors, Harry (Pedro Pascal) and John (Chris Evans), represent two opposing paths—wealth and comfort versus love and sacrifice.

Shot in 35mm, Materialists may lose some momentum toward the ending, but remains a finely crafted piece well worth seeking out. We’ve seen films like this before, but rarely have they looked or felt quite like this. Song, a thoughtful filmmaker with meaningful insights on relationships—past and present—ticks off every box on the film’s agenda and wraps it up with a big smile. This is not a backward step for the director, who portrays a transactional dating ecosystem with both realism and cleverness.

Bring Her Back (2025)

Direction: Danny and Michael Philippou
Country: Australia

The Philippou Brothers, who stirred up some frisson with their debut Talk To Me (2022), strike again with Bring Her Back, finding further creepiness in morbid rituals and macabre video recordings. The story, co-written by Danny and Bill Hinzman, follows orphaned step-siblings Andy (Billy Barratt) and visually impaired Piper (first-timer Sora Wong). They are placed in foster care under the supervision of Laura (Sally Hawkins), a grief-stricken former counselor who becomes dangerously unhinged. She also cares for Oliver (Jonah Wren Phillips), a sinister mute child insensible to pain.

More creepy than outright scary, Bring Her Back possesses a fierce brutality and visceral desperation that kept me watching. The Philippous have a gift for crafting atmospherics, establishing a sustained mood of uneasiness. They don’t shy away from the rough stuff, striving to bring extra layers to the genre, though leaving viewers emotionally drained in the process.

Hawkins, forever remembered for Mike Leigh’s comedy Happy-Go-Lucky (2008) and Del Toro’s fantasy The Shape of Water (2017), delivers a terrific first foray into horror. She even performs her own stunts here. Bring Her Back will probably stick in your gut for a little while, and don't be surprised if you walk away feeling hollow inside. This aggressively ferocious horror flick pushes cruelty to the edge, and is certainly not for the faint of heart.

The Phoenician Scheme (2025)

Direction: Wes Anderson
Country: USA

In his latest feature, The Phoenician Scheme, Wes Anderson takes aim at capitalism without morals, blending slapstick and absurdism in a live-action espionage comedy suffused with sumptuous visuals and imaginative scenarios marked by his signature symmetry. Co-written with Roman Copolla and dedicated to his father-in-law, Lebanese businessman Faoud Malouf, the film was primarily shot at Babelsberg, the world's oldest film studio, and boasts an impressive cast led by Benicio Del Toro, Kate Winslet’s daughter Mia Threapleton, and Michael Cera. 

Zsa-Zsa Korda (Del Toro), a cunning, wealthy industrialist, has survived multiple plane crashes and assassination attempts. Wanted for fraud, he is a man of countless schemes and grand projects for the Phoenicia region. He designates his daughter Liesl (Threapleton), a 21-year-old nun, as the sole heir to his empire.

The story zigzags between relentless assassins—all former employees of Korda—infiltrators, double agents, betrayals, revolutionary guerrilla robberies, mysterious shoeboxes, and a hilariously odd basketball competition. The dialogues are surprisingly witty, and Anderson’s cinematic universe is stylized to reflect his unique whims. The Phoenician Scheme may not fully achieve the greatness it aspires to, but it offers a relentlessly stylish parade of comic characters—certainly a more charming, funny, and captivating experience than Anderson’s previous dull feature Asteroid City (2023). At least here, I remained invested in the characters, in a film propelled by an atypical rhythm and enlivened by an unapologetic “cartoon” sensibility. 

Framed by fragmented twists, it doesn’t always land both narratively and comically, but its flashes of darkness bring a welcome novelty to a burlesque depiction of society that questions our times with explosiveness and wild madness.

A Traveler's Needs (2024)

Direction: Hong Sang-soo
Country: South Korea

In A Traveler’s Needs, another peculiar drama by Korean filmmaker Hong Sang-soo, a solitary French woman—aptly portrayed by Isabelle Huppert—teaches French in Seoul using unconventional methods, while her unknown past remains a mystery. Although she shows interest in her students’ feelings and emotions, she maintains an insouciant attitude, drinking makgeolli—a fermented rice alcoholic beverage—throughout the day. Frequently bored, her behavior is often perplexing as we try to decipher her motives.

This fleeting fable carries a certain poetic quality and an insinuating sense of adventure, but gradually loses momentum, becoming increasingly formulaic. It’s a fascinating cross-cultural experiment that eventually runs itself into the ground, recycling Sang-soo’s familiar patterns of conversational interaction. 

Huppert and Sang-soo’s third collaboration—following In Another Country (2012) and Claire’s Camera (2017)—is the weakest of the trio, an occasionally charming yet underdeveloped ode to friendship that meanders without clear direction. In truth, A Traveler’s Needs feels like an acting exercise stretched to feature length, with the multi-faceted Sang-soo handling direction, screenplay, cinematography, production, editing, and score.

Motel Destino (2024)

Direction: Karim Ainouz
Country: Brazil 

After experiencing Hollywood last year with the period drama Firebrand, filmmaker Karim Ainouz (Madame Satã, 2002; Invisible Life, 2019) returns to Brazil to helm Motel Destino, a mundane and sexually-charged neo-noir thriller that plays like a haunting phantasmagoria. While the script itself lacks depth, the film benefits from its sensory overload, visual experimentation, and a Coen Brothers-inspired score that evokes sinister western landscapes. 

Living in Ceará, Heraldo (Iago Xavier) plans to move to São Paulo but must first complete one last job for drug kingpin and local artist Bambina (Fabíola Líper). When things spiral out of control, he takes refuge in a seedy sex motel, aided by its owners: the restless Dayana (Nataly Rocha) and her volatile, voyeuristic husband, Elias (Fábio Assunção). 

There’s no pretentiousness or ego in the trio’s performances, and enough tension sustains interest until the film’s ultimately disappointing ending. Motel Destino is a vicious piece of work from a director unafraid to expose the primal, darker instincts of his characters. Unfortunately, this stylized erotic thriller is undermined by clumsy dialogue and a hastily executed conclusion. It offers a shallow cinematic experience that may not leave you breathless, but its darkness lingers like cement, and the tension between its sleazy content and neon-lit aesthetics is precisely where its power resides.

When Fall is Coming (2025)

Direction: François Ozon
Country: France 

With the eclectic French filmmaker François Ozon at the helm, you never know which kind of film you're going to get. When Fall is Coming is a drama of atypical heroines that never follows predictable paths. Set mostly in Burgundy, in the French countryside, the story slowly distills its charms and poisons, exploring the thin line between good and evil.

This seemingly good-natured drama, imbued with scenes of commiseration, guilt, and relief, thrives on doubt and ambiguity, heightened by Ozon’s refusal to over-explain. The audience is invited to embrace uncertainty and draw their own conclusions. The understated mystery recalls Chabrol, with the academic form and classic staging perfectly suiting the film’s slightly opaque narrative. 

81-year-old actress Hélène Vincent, who was phenomenal in Brizé’s A Few Hours of Spring (2012), delivers a remarkable performance as Michelle Giraud—a devoted grandmother and former prostitute—capturing brief seconds of mental absence and confusion with striking precision. Ozon reunites with her and Josiane Balasko, who plays her best friend, seven years after By The Grace of God. More notably, he works again with Ludivine Sagnier—portraying Michelle’s depressed daughter—22 years after launching her career with Swimming Pool. Another successful reunion is with cinematographer Jérôme Alméras, Ozon’s collaborator on the 2012 drama-mystery In the House. 

When Fall is Coming unfolds in a familiar slow-burn fashion, but it’s a deeply satisfying watch. A film of small moments and subtle gestures, where performances radiate warmth and pain, gradually defining the characters. Following the playful extravagance of The Crime is Mine (2023), Ozon closely observes human behavior and emotions with profound quietude.

Bonjour Tristesse (2025)

Direction: Durga Chew-Bose
Country: France

This particularly unmemorable adaptation of Françoise Sagan’s 1954 novel Bonjour Tristesse fails to capture the soul of the story and lacks genuine drama. First-time director Durga Chew-Bose aims for subtlety, relying heavily on facial expressions and unspoken feelings, but the result often feels like a repetitive exercise rather than meaningful storytelling. The film manages to spark some minimal intrigue in its first half, only to lose momentum and control before collapsing into complete banality.

This chamber drama, steeped in calculated machinations and guilt, follows the manipulative 17-year-old Cécile (Lily McInerny), who enjoys a carefree summer at a French Riviera villa with her emotionally detached father, Raymond (Claes Bang), and his laid-back girlfriend, Elsa (Naïlia Harzoune). The arrival of fashion designer Anne Larsson (Chloë Sevigny), an old family friend, disrupts Cécile’s fragile summer equilibrium.

Bonjour Tristesse ends up as an irredeemably bland, formulaic coming-of-age drama that seldom rises above the absurdity of its own plot twists. The characters lack dimension—becoming increasingly grating—the dialogue remains superficial, and the performances feel awkward rather than authentic. This couldn’t be a more generic and uninspired entry into the genre. An empty summer reverie.

Holy Cow (2025)

Direction: Louise Courvoisier
Country: France 

Louise Courvoisier's feature debut, Holy Cow, is a sensitive coming of age tale set in Jura, a department in the Bourgogne-Franche-Comté region. Eighteen-year-old Totone (Clément Faveau) prefers hanging out and drinking with friends over helping his father on their cheese farm. But misfortune forces him to radically change his life. He finds solace in Marie-Lise (Maiwene Barthelemy), his first love, and in a newfound obsession: making the region’s best cheese.

The beauty of Holy Cow lies in its details as much as in the simplicity of its story, populated by genuine, believable characters. The nuanced performances from non-professional actors, the evocative use of location, and the sensitive script by Courvoisier and Théo Abadie elevates the film above many others in the genre.

The film’s humble nature and the setbacks faced by the protagonist never undercut its uplifting sense of satisfaction or its quiet celebration of romance and self-discovery. What’s perhaps most remarkable about Holy Cow is that it actually works in a quiet, unfussy way. There’s an honest emotional core in Courvoisier’s depiction of a teenager coming to terms with responsibility, morality, and friendship.

Viet and Nam (2025)

Direction: Minh Quy Truong
Country: Vietnam

Set in rural Vietnam in the year 2000, this malancholic and bucolic romantic drama is drenched in intermittent heavy rain, contemplating more than it discovers. Viet and Nam are two coal miners and lovers who dream of a different life abroad. Meanwhile, Nam’s mother obsessively searches for the remains of her husband, a casualty of the war, eventually crossing paths with a medium from the North.

Served by striking camerawork, Minh Quy Truong's second feature unfolds as a slow, profound excavation of a country’s lingering war wounds. Though ghostly and dreamlike, it weaves together queer romance, working-class struggle, historical trauma, grief, and spiritual longing. 

The film embraces a poetic, meditative style, with enigmatic flourishes and an eerie tranquility drawn from its rural landscapes. Its fluid sense of time and space recalls Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s cinema, albeit with a more grounded, objective gaze. The cast—composed of non-professional actors—delivers authentic, unembellished performances.

The film’s languid pacing and long, static 16mm shots may stretch its runtime, but Truong clearly trusts in the power of cinema and the viewer’s patience. Viet and Nam is a respectable film that can be moving in its infinite delicacy and quivering sensitivity—even if it doesn't entirely avoid the familiar traits of contemplative art-house cinema.

The Most Precious of Cargoes (2024)

Direction: Michel Hazanavicius
Country: France

From Michel Hazanavicius—the director of The Artist (2011)—The Most Precious of Cargoes marks his first animated feature, adapted from a novel by French playwright and author Jean-Claude Grumberg. The story centers on a poor woodcutter and his wife who, unable to have children, are unexpectedly blessed with a Jewish baby thrown from a moving train bound for Auschwitz. Narrated by the late Jean-Louis Trintignant—who passed away in 2022—the film is steeped in rural isolation, irrational beliefs, and the unspeakable horrors of the Holocaust, a hauntingly fertile ground for such a tale. Though animated, this is not an easy watch—nor should it be. It serves as a quiet, poignant resistance to the gradual and inevitable fading of our collective memory.

Hazanavicius, whose roots lie in an Eastern European Jewish family, crafts a postmodern fairy tale with simplicity and effectiveness, evoking deep emotion through acts of kindness and humanity. Even with modest dialogues, he generates a great deal of drama with a fierce kind of courage. This is reinforced by Alexandre Desplat’s oversentimental score.

Sinners (2025)

Direction: Ryan Coogler
Country: USA

Sinners—a wildly entertaining film that, while echoing many others, ends up unlike anything you've seen—marks the fourth collaboration between director Ryan Coogler (Creed, 2015; Black Panther, 2018) and actor Michael B. Jordan. It’s far from the conventional blockbuster one might expect, fusing themes of segregation and racism with vampire lore, gangster drama, and religious undercurrents, all orchestrated with a sense of direction that is both bold and disarming.

Set in Clarksdale, Mississippi, in the early 1930s, the story follows gangster twins Stack and Smoke (Jordan excels in the dual role), who return from Chicago and take their young cousin Sammie Moore (Miles Caton)—the son of a preacher and an aspiring blues musician—under their wing. They purchase a sawmill from a Ku Klux Klan member and convert it into a juke joint. On its opening night, the venue is suddenly overrun by vampires.

Resembling a smart mash-up of Dee Rees’ Mudbound and Robert Rodriguez's From Dusk Till Dawn, Sinners occasionally takes bold stylistic detours with flashes of modernity, culminating in a feverish crescendo that evokes some of the most iconic action and vampire films. It may not send chills down your spine, but it's a thrill ride—bolstered by confident performances, a compelling recreation of the 1930s American South, and impressive special effects. It also lands like a slap to the face in terms of musical impact.

Coogler’s achievement is also technical—the film was shot in two distinct formats—and the vampire parable it weaves feels more timely and relevant than it initially appears.

Universal Language (2025)

Direction: Matthew Rankin
Country: Canada

Universal Language is a stylistically and structurally interesting piece of poetic madness set in the dreary Canadian city of Winnipeg, where the locals, inexplicably, speak Farsi. The film’s mood is peculiar, gravitating between the absurdist aesthetics of Roy Andersson and Wes Anderson, and the emotional cadences reminiscent of Abbas Kiarostami.

In his sophomore feature, co-writer, director, and actor Matthew Rankin plays Matthew, a man who leaves his bureaucratic job in Quebec to return to his frigid hometown of Winnipeg, hoping to reconnect with his mother. Instead, he forms unexpected bonds with two kind-hearted children, a stranger his mother now lives with, and an eccentric tour guide.

The film’s atmosphere evokes a bygone era, and what begins as a puzzle—initially cold and disjointed—gradually coalesces into an emotional whole, its pieces ultimately fitting together. There is never a moment when the viewer is unaware of the film’s constructed artifice, yet the experience isn’t exactly off-putting. It demands patience, certainly, but its melancholy and arid tone are softened by geometrically composed frames that establish a contemplative relationship between space and architecture.

Rankin dares to think outside the box, presenting a visual and narrative approach that defies conventional standards. His movie comes with a hard core of disillusionment but also hope in humanity, and viewers in tune with his offbeat sensibilities will enjoy both the deadpan humor and the bold unconventional choices.

Warfare (2025)

Direction: Alex Garland, Ray Mendoza
Country: USA

With Warfare, co-director Alex Garland reaffirms his talent for crafting visceral, unflinchingly realistic war films, recounting the harrowing true story of a group of Navy SEAL snipers trapped in a commandeered Iraqi house during a high-risk U.S. Marines operation. Garland shares directing duties with Ray Mendoza, a former soldier who served on the actual mission, lending the film an added layer of authenticity.

If Civil War generated a buzz ahead of its success in 2024, then Warfare, featuring a stellar ensemble cast, delivers an even more intense experience, filled with brutal moments of pain and suffering, and punctuated by chilling silences and the muffled screams of despair. Be warned: the graphic violence may be deeply unsettling for some viewers.

The film portrays a grim chapter of American military history, one that not only sets your heart racing but also provokes reflection on the brutality and futility of war. Shot with unwavering precision and driven by a chaotic, raw, and primitive force, Warfare remains relentlessly claustrophobic and emotionally gripping from start to finish. The frequent use of close-ups deepens the audience's connection to the characters' trauma, making this one of the most nightmarish depictions of modern warfare ever captured on screen—an unforgettable descent into the psyche of men at war, and a powerful, if harrowing, cinematic experience.

Mickey 17 (2025)

Direction: Bong Joon Ho
Country: USA / South Korea

Mickey 17, based on the novel of the same name by Edward Ashton, is an ambitious but imperfect sci-fi blockbuster laced with black humor, social satire, and political bite. It centers on Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson), who volunteers to travel to a freezing planet as an “expendable”—a human whose body is cloned and reloaded with memories each time he dies. The planet is not only home to misunderstood alien beings called Creepers but is also governed by an authoritarian couple (Mark Ruffalo and Toni Collette) with bizarre, decadent tendencies.

The film, co-written and directed by first-rate Korean director Bong Joon Ho, doesn’t avoid some lengths and histrionics. One moment, it slips into a romantic soap opera that irritates more than it intrigues; the next, it evokes the spirit of resistance cinema—admirable in intention, but never fully realized in execution. Much like its protagonist, the narrative seems to reset every time it gains momentum, and the distinctly American brand of humor often feels bland or misplaced.

Mickey 17 ultimately falls short of expectations, and that is particularly painful given Bong's track record with masterpieces like Parasite (2019), Memories of Murder (2003), Mother (2009), and Snowpiercer (2013). Realism and caricature get locked in the same structure, and while the ballsy social commentary still holds up, the film never delivers the full-impact blow we hoped for. 

Ghost Trail (2025)

Direction: Jonathan Millet
Country: France

Inspired by true events, Ghost Trail marks the remarkable fictional feature debut of Jonathan Millet, who, drawing on his background as a documentarian, spent considerable time researching the subject of his film. The story follows a Syrian literature professor who, after being released from one of Bashar al-Assad’s notorious prisons, sets out to track down his torturer—someone whose face he has never seen, and who likewise never saw his. Now living in Strasbourg, France, this fractured man operates with the aid of an invisible network of six others, spread across the globe, all seeking justice from the shadows.

This intelligent spy thriller, steeped in obsession and executed with methodical subtlety, plunges directly into the recent, harrowing history of a wounded Syria. Tense and controlled, the film achieves a disturbingly realistic tone, grounded in believable character dynamics that immediately pull the viewer in and sustain engagement throughout. The pursuit is long, slow, and fraught with uncertainty, but the tension pays off. The protagonist, Hamid (Adam Bessa), though initially consumed by vengeance, is wise enough to make choices that allow him to cling to the possibility of a ‘normal’ life.

As merciless as it is hard-hitting, Ghost Trail offers a searing portrait of political trauma and the tangled drive for retribution. Its moral complexities, coupled with sharp storytelling and Bessa’s outstanding performance, make it compulsively watchable. Eschewing physical violence in favor of mounting psychological tension, this debut signals the arrival of a filmmaker discovering his power.

The New Boy (2025)

Direction: Warwick Thornton
Country: Australia

The Australian director, screenwriter, and cinematographer Warwick Thornton earned well-deserved attention, with engrossing dramas such as Samson and Delilah (2009) and Sweet Country (2017). His latest feature, The New Boy, centers on a nine-year-old orphaned Aboriginal boy (first-timer Aswan Reid) with mysterious healing powers. After being found in the desert, he is taken to a remote monastery run by the enigmatic Sister Eileen (Cate Blanchett, also credited as co-producer). She is aided by two Aboriginal converts to Christianity: Sister Mum (Deborah Mailman), a woman burdened by the loss of her children, and the reserved George (Wayne Blair).

There’s a certain coyness to A New Boy that suggests the film needed another draft, and its conclusion becomes unfavorably literal. While the film may strike a welcome chord for some for its portrayal of faith as both solace and a struggle, it largely fails to construct a compelling narrative arc capable to surprise.

By walking a super-thin line between grim believability and curious insensitivity, the film underutilizes its rich premise, becoming tacky and all too easy in spots. Thornton, who did much better in previous features, sacrificed tone for something more systematic and formulaic, but passed a clear message: Christianity triumphs imperatively. It’s unfortunate that this message arrives in a visually polished but vacuous package.

Blanchett’s reliably committed performance couldn’t redeem the film, though the evocative score by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis reinforces both the emotional and the unfathomable.