The Mastermind (2025)

Direction: Kelly Reichardt
Country: USA

Directed by the acclaimed Kelly Reichardt (Certain Women, 2016; Showing Up, 2022), whose approach often feels refreshingly removed from convention, The Mastermind is a charming, atmospheric crime thriller infused with subtle humor. Set in Massachusetts in 1970, the story casts Josh O’Connor as an indolent family man turned naive art thief on the run.

Airily layered, the film burns quietly but steadily, exuding a poignant, dark, Robert Altman–esque sensibility. It greatly benefits from Rob Mazurek’s outstanding jazz score—he doubles on piano and trumpet, complemented by tasteful solo drum figures and shimmering cymbal work—and from the gorgeous ’70s texture captured by cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt, who collaborates with Reichardt here for the sixth time. 

The director’s simple, patient, and direct approach once again proves fruitful, resulting in another subtle yet assured film that largely succeeds through the natural, unforced presence of its lead performance.

Simmering without boiling, The Mastermind peels off the surfaces of old-school heist genre, smartly avoiding commonplace, complacency, and demagogy to achieve something truly moody and dusky. While the character's psychology is intriguing, the story and context are subtlety anchored in consistency, rigor, and a deliberate rhythm that catches, almost without words, the sensation of someone who, once lost, seems condemned to the unfathomable pain of permanent solitude. The unforeseeable finale is strikingly ironic in both tone and perspective.

With aesthetics perfectly attuned to its subject, this is another authentic-feeling narrative that further enriches Reichardt’s singular filmography.

Sentimental Value (2025)

Direction: Joachim Trier
Country: Norway

Danish-Norwegian filmmaker Joachim Trier (Oslo, 31 August, 2011; The Worst Person in the World, 2021) returns with another compelling drama, co-written with his regular collaborator Eskil Vogt. Sentimental Value is a film about paternal estrangement that goes well beyond that premise. It unfolds as an accomplished, Bergman-esque portrait of a family in decline, carrying a particular sensitivity toward film and theater as emotional and narrative frameworks.

Absent for far too many years, renowned filmmaker Gustav Borg (Stellan Skarsgård) inadvertently re-enters the lives of his daughters—Nora (Renate Reinsve) and Agnes (Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas)—after their mother’s death. Nora, a theater actress, is deeply scarred by a cruel past, living with feelings of abandonment, depression, and insecurity that stem from her parents’ separation. Agnes, married and with a young son, is calmer and far less confrontational. When Nora refuses to take part in Gustav’s new film—written specifically for her—he turns instead to an American actress, Rachel Kemp (Elle Fanning), who struggles to find her footing within the script.

Sentimental Value achieves a rare blend of art and life, where powerful emotions surface within a crystal-clear mise-en-scène. Trier’s direction is marked by confidence and precision, while the actors’ remarkable presence and naturalness anchor the film, shaping complex relationships rich in nuance. This is family drama at its most quietly devastating, sustaining a strong dramatic integrity as its characters grapple with unresolved pain and buried resentment.

The narrative—thoughtfully built through calibrated dialogue—flows with such ease that its underlying complexity can almost go unnoticed. A single gesture often speaks louder than words, with each frame serving to deepen our understanding of the characters. It stands as a touching, mature work of fiction grounded in reality, driven by the invisible bonds that continue to hold us together, even when fractured.

To Kill a Mongolian Horse (2025)

Direction: Jiang Xiaoxuan
Country: Malaysia / Hong Kong / other

Manchurian writer-director Jiang Xiaoxuan makes a promising debut with To Kill a Mongolian Horse, a gloomy contemporary drama centered on the loss of cultural identity and the difficult adaptation to a new reality. Set against the arid landscape of Inner Mongolia, the story follows Saina (a first-time actor playing himself), a dexterous horseback performer who sees the traditions he cherishes slipping away.

Divorced, Saina works at both a tourist show and a popular local equestrian site to make ends meet—most of his income goes to his ex-wife (Qilemuge), who has custody of their child—while he also looks after his alcoholic, gambling-addict father (Tonggalag). The work is unstable, but Saina refuses to sell his beloved horses. Matters worsen when a massive mining project is announced for the grasslands where they live. The developers promise the families a small apartment in the city, but would they ever be happy there?

Adopting a documentary-like, Jia Zhangke-esque approach, To Kill a Mongolian Horse carries a reflective strength, keeping you in quiet suspense until its shattering finale. Details accrue gradually, rewarding patience, and despite its unrelenting tone, this anguishing story becomes both poignant and meaningful as its characters hover between a joyful past, a dispiriting present, and an uncertain future. With its no-punches-pulled realism and emotional precision, this deeply felt drama deservedly earned Xiaoxuan the “best director and screenwriter under 40” prize at Venice.

Blue Moon (2025)

Direction: Richard Linklater
Country: USA 

Richard Linklater—who also made the wonderful Nouvelle Vague this year—directs Blue Moon, a strong, impeccably staged biopic about the witty, technically sophisticated lyricist Lorenz Hart, who rose to prominence in the 1930s through his long collaboration with composer Richard Rodgers. Together, they created immortal jazz standards such as “Blue Moon”, “The Lady Is a Tramp”, “Manhattan”, and “My Funny Valentine”. The script by novelist Robert Kaplow—re-teaming with Linklater after Me and Orson Welles (2008)—offers more than enough to give us a precise sense of Hart’s personality and inner struggles.

Shot with controlled, precise camerawork, Blue Moon is beautifully rendered, anchored by powerhouse work from Ethan Hawke, who portrays the alcoholic lyricist with a mix of lively spark, reverence for beauty in all its forms, and deep poignancy. The narrative, set in 1934 New York, unfolds over one painful night at Hart’s favorite bar, capturing the bitterness of having to celebrate the massive success and rave reviews of Oklahoma!—Rodgers’ first Broadway show without him (this time collaborating with Oscar Hammerstein). At the same time, Hart confronts an abyss of despair as he feels used by his twenty-year-old protégé and production-designer-wannabe Elizabeth Weiland (Margaret Qualley).

Blue Moon sifts gently across a jazzy landscape with a heartfelt, sometimes bitter touch. Bursting with Hart’s sharp wit and mordant observations, the dialogue is a delight—inebriating, funny, sarcastic, and engrossing. The film’s visual and atmospheric formality may feel pronounced, but don’t let that deter you: this passionate account darts and hops with bracing energy, offering just enough depth to both warm and break your heart.

Observant in the way only Linklater can be, the film feels strikingly authentic and radiates a contagious pleasure. It is not a conventional biopic, but it’s cleverly attuned to emotional nuance, and that makes all the difference.

Bugonia (2025)

Direction: Yorgos Lanthimos
Country: USA

Bugonia, a delirious sci-fi thriller by Greek filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos (Dogtooth, 2009; The Favourite, 2018; Poor Things, 2023), is propelled by violence, dark humor, paranoia, and outlandish situations. The film, a remake of Jang Joon-hwan’s South Korean hit Save the Green Planet! (2003), stars Lanthimos’s muse Emma Stone, who maneuvers through different dramatic registers with unflinching force; Jesse Plemons, delivering a convincing bravura performance; and first-timer Aidan Delbis, a welcome surprise. Will Tracy (The Menu, 2022) wrote the script, and Ari Aster (Hereditary, 2018) co-produced alongside Stone, Lanthimos, and others.

Cousins Teddy (Plemons), an enraged, manic conspiracy theorist, and the submissive Don (Delbis), who behaves like an innocent child, kidnap Michelle Fuller (Stone), a powerful pharmaceutical CEO they believe to be an Andromedan on a special mission to Earth. Their goal is to force a meeting with her alien emperor, negotiating the withdrawal of her species in order to save the planet. The choice is not arbitrary: Teddy and Michelle share a charged history. 

The film confronts a postmodern society in decline, voicing anxieties about human extinction and Earth’s urgent need for care and healing. While its message is clear, the narrative is provocatively mounted, with Lanthimos once again subverting norms—this time through a mix of cynicism, absurdism, eccentric sci-fi, and a wacky, dystopian doomsday theory. The ferocity of his direction is striking, and the story grows more intriguing and disconcerting as it progresses, carrying a kind of grip sorely missing from many recent entries in the genre.

Bugonia is a wild, offbeat eco-tale built with boundless imagination, sprinting toward a punishing finale that dismantles a macabre farce and plunges into perpetual tragedy. Though it sometimes feels calculated, it is also finely crafted, hallucinatory, and immensely entertaining. A galvanizing cinematic experience with a radical edge—one that, whether you love it or hate it, won’t be easy to forget.

Nouvelle Vague (2025)

Direction: Richard Linklater
Country: France / USA

Acclaimed American filmmaker Richard Linklater (Boyhood; the Before trilogy) ventures into unexpected territory: reconstructing a pivotal moment in film history—the birth of Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless (1960), and, with it, the rise of the French New Wave and its legends. More interested in the mechanics and behind-the-scenes processes than in traditional drama, Linklater reimagines the past in crisp black-and-white, delivering a wildly entertaining throwback to the ’60s.

Guillaume Marbeck’s radiant performance as Godard—revolutionary, anarchic, unorthodox, and perpetually dismissive of convention—is nothing short of flawless. Zoey Deutch, in her second collaboration with Linklater after Everybody Wants Some!, brings vivid presence to Jean Seberg, while Aubry Dullin channels the charisma and ease of Jean-Paul Belmondo. Together, they infuse the film with a youthful, infectious vitality that makes Nouvelle Vague pulse with energy.

Beautiful, stylish, and memorable, the film captures the joy, urgency, and constant negotiation that define the filmmaking process. Linklater balances complex elements with sharp dialogue and stellar performances, all framed by deftly angled compositions that reflect the unpredictable currents of Godard’s personality—an unconventional filmmaker perched on the cusp of stardom.

Nouvelle Vague arrives as a triumphant recreation of a defining cinematic moment. Steeped in realism and fueled by a palpable love for cinema, it often feels like an exercise in cinephile time travel. And although a few characters drift in without clear purpose, Linklater widens the frame, painting a dazzling portrait of a generation that revolutionized cinema.

No Other Choice (2025)

Direction: Park Chan-wook
Country: South Korea

No Other Choice is a highly satirical dark-comedy thriller that never settles down. Directed, co-written, and produced by Park Chan-wook (Oldboy, 2003; The Handmaiden, 2016), who adapts Donald Westlake’s acclaimed novel The Ax (1997), the film bursts with offbeat overtones and biting irony as we follow the tortuous path of Yoo Man-su (Lee Byung-hun), an unemployed family man turned serial killer.

Man-su, a paper-industry expert who spent twenty-five years sacrificing himself for a Korean company, is abruptly fired after a buyout by a powerful American corporation. With his family in financial crisis, he is on the verge of losing his beloved childhood home and the comfort it has always provided. That’s when he comes up with a plan: eliminate the competitors for a job he has applied for at a rival firm. At once vulnerable, disturbing, and faintly ridiculous, this cold executioner ultimately carries out his strategy with the complicit help of his dental-assistant wife, Lee Mi-ri (Son Ye-jin).

Chan-wook’s fondness for dark stories—mixing the traits of film noir with a sharp critique of neoliberal modernity—is on full display, yet he never abandons the black humor, which spreads as contagiously as the madness itself. What he delivers is a perverse pressure cooker that serves up laughs and shrieks in equal measure. Initially unnerving in a slow-burn fashion and eventually catastrophically depraved, No Other Choice is potently harsh, unflinchingly amoral, and sinfully enjoyable. Pure noir zaniness.

Broken Voices (2025)

Direction: Ondrej Provaznik
Country: Czech Republic / Slovakia

A shattering and cold coming-of-age drama, Broken Voices leaves us petrified with a well-rendered tale that, though difficult to watch, feels painfully real. Writer-director Ondrej Provaznik avoids dramatic excess, relying on a simple yet potent script drawn from the Bambini di Praga case, in which a choirmaster was convicted of sexually abusing minor girls between 1984 and 2004.

The film centers on Karolina (promising debut from Katerina Falbrová), a talented 13-year-old singer thrilled by the prospect of joining a prestigious girls’ choir on a U.S. tour. Her older sister Lucie (Maya Kintera), 15, is also in the choir but has been acting increasingly withdrawn. She was once a favorite of the sly choirmaster, Vitek Mácha (Juraj Loj).

We can sense where the story is headed, yet Broken Voices becomes a quiet, devastating plunge, magnificently carried by its actors. It’s a heartbreaking, deeply impactful, and merciless film, elevated by a persistent undercurrent of harrowing anxiety. Hitting hard even in moments that momentarily lighten the tone, Broken Voices is the antithesis of a feel-good movie—something that fractures from the inside and leaves a long-lasting bruise.

Sirat (2025)

Direction: Oliver Laxe
Country: Spain / France

The fourth feature by French-born Spanish filmmaker Oliver Laxe (Mimosas, 2016; Fire Will Come, 2019), Sirat unfolds as a radical road trip that transforms into a breathtaking survival thriller. Watching it feels like being struck by a seismic wave that grips you from the start. Early on, we’re told that Sirat is a bridge connecting heaven and hell—a fitting metaphor for the journey ahead. 

Co-written with his regular collaborator Santiago Fillol, the film follows a distressed father (Sergi López) and his young son (Bruno Núñez Arjona) as they search for his missing adult daughter in the southern mountains of Morocco. Along the way, they encounter a group of nomadic ravers caught in trippy dance rituals, awash in hallucinogens and the volatile promise of freedom.

Beautifully shot and powerfully acted, this intoxicating work confirms Laxe as a singular filmmaker. His skill in balancing nihilistic, hallucinatory, and spiritual tones is remarkable. Kangding Ray’s hypnotic trance score meshes seamlessly with Mauro Herce’s vivid, sun-scorched cinematography, deepening the film’s immersive atmosphere.

Aside from López, Laxe again directs non-professional actors, maintaining his idiosyncratic style—measured, raw, and far removed from conventional storytelling. Drawing inspiration from Kiarostami’s Taste of Cherry (1997) and produced by Pedro Almodóvar, Sirat is a grave, unsettling meditation on loss and human frailty. It builds on fear and anguish, creating a palpable sense of doom that seeps into your bones—you’ll feel the sweat on your back in its most intense moments.

Sirat is a punchy, excruciating film that shakes things up in a way rarely seen on screen. An audacious leap forward for Laxe, who edges ever closer to becoming one of auteur cinema’s defining voices.

Manas (2025)

Direction: Marianna Brennand
Country: Brazil 

Debut filmmaker Marianna Brennand co-wrote and directed Manas, a raw, devastating, and deeply somber drama film that lays bare impaired family ties and cruel, traumatic adolescence in the isolated city of Marajó in Brazil’s Amazon region. The story sheds light on an abominable reality, examining cycles of family dysfunction that give rise to a different kind of horror.

We follow 13-year-old Marcielle (Jamilli Correa), who abruptly loses her innocence and trust after confronting sexual abuse within her own family. What’s most harrowing is the collective silence that surrounds her: relatives, church members, and the broader community are all aware of the crimes yet choose to look away.

The subject matter alone is emotionally shattering, but Brennand amplifies its impact through stark, eloquent imagery that speaks louder than words. The setting’s haunting isolation makes everything feel even more suffocating and real.

Measured in pace but unrelenting in power, this quietly distressing film is revolting, heartbreaking, and profoundly compelling. It’s not an easy watch, but Manas is an essential one—an urgent act of courage by a fearless filmmaker, carried by performances of striking emotional truth.

Caught Stealing (2025)

Direction: Darren Aronofsky
Country: USA

After three consecutive misfires—Noah (2014), Mother! (2017), and The Whale (2022)—Darren Aronofsky makes a striking comeback with Caught Stealing, a period black-comedy crime thriller of the highest order that leaves you shaken yet utterly captivated. 

Effectively capturing the anxious tribulations of New York’s Lower East Side during the late ’90s, the film adapts Charlie Huston’s 2004 novel with a nod to Scorsese’s After Hours (1985), following Hank Thompson (Austin Butler), a former baseball player turned bartender and die-hard Giants fan who finds himself entangled with Russian mobsters and dirty money. It marks Aronofsky’s ninth feature in 27 years — and the first chapter of a planned trilogy.

Aronofsky’s touch is unmistakable in the kinetic camerawork, gritty atmosphere, and underground allure. A vivid 1990s texture emerges through graffiti-covered walls, seedy bars, punk aesthetics, vintage cars, and worn city façades. The director populates this world with a gallery of characters that are worthy of your time due to their idiosyncrasies. They are the real magic of the film. 

Backed by a stellar cast and razor-sharp script, Caught Stealing is also wickedly funny. Liev Schreiber and Vincent D’Onofrio are uproarious as a pair of Hasidic hitmen, while the ruthless Russian thugs exude genuine menace. Wild Chinatown chases and gunfights in smoky underground bars unfold to the pounding soundtrack of British post-punk band Idles. Longtime collaborator Matthew Libatique once again delivers striking cinematography, capturing the city’s feverish claustrophobia with precision.

Revisiting his recurring themes—addiction, violence, and downcasts—Aronofsky reinvents himself with electrifying confidence. Caught Stealing promises a bloody good time, and it delivers — cerebrally, cinematically, and without compromise.

Weapons (2025)

Direction: Zach Cregger
Country: USA

Directing from a clever plot of his own design, Zach Cregger (Barbarian, 2022) delivers his sophomore feature Weapons, an absorbing mystery-horror film that deftly blends humor with witchcraft before erupting in a gory, satisfying climax. Cregger spins a tale of narrative traps and eerie detours, crafting a creep show that dazzles with striking imagery and a sinister symphony of darkness and sorcery. 

Justine Candy (Julia Garner), a devoted elementary school teacher, becomes entangled in a shocking case when every student in her class mysteriously disappears overnight—except for one, Alex Lilly (Cary Christopher). With a troubled past casting shadows over her, Justine faces the wrath of distraught parents, most notably the obsessive Archer Graff (Josh Brolin), who launches his own investigation armed with recovered footage.

The film—structured around a web of interconnected characters and influenced by Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia (1999)—branches into chapters that also follow Paul Morgan (Alden Ehrenreich), a married cop embroiled in an affair with Justine; James (Austin Abrams), a scheming homeless junkie; and Marcus Miller (Benedict Wong), the school’s principal. All deliver strong performances, yet none matches Amy Madigan’s chilling turn as aunt Gladys, whose presence intensifies the story’s descent into the bizarre.

More mischievous than terrifying, Weapons thrives on its ability to both unnerve and amuse, fine-tuned to keep audiences teetering between uneasy laughter and manic delirium. With this film, Cregger cements his reputation as a rising horror auteur, skillfully balancing tonal shifts to offer a story that is not exactly a puzzler since the mystery is unraveled well before the blood-soaked finale.

Sorry, Baby (2025)

Direction: Eva Victor
Country: USA

The power of American independent film is on full display in Eva Vitor’s largely autobiographical feature debut Sorry, Baby, a deft blend of black comedy and drama laced with corrosive humor and covert horror. Produced by Barry Jenkins (Moonlight, 2016), the film—low-key yet strikingly authentic—conveys not only the devastating trauma and far-reaching consequences of a sexual assault endured by a literature grad student at her university, but also the tenderness and sustenance of genuine friendship. 

Victor, who also wrote and stars, is utterly convincing as the wounded Agnes; her emotions, demeanor, and concerns carry such integrity that they feel lived-in. Yet, there’s often the haunting sense that she’s teetering on the edge of a precipice. 

Tough and achingly beautiful, Sorry, Baby plays like a letter of apology to all the women forced to navigate the long road of emotional repair while their attackers walked free. At once as intimate as a sigh and as urgent as a klaxon, this symphony of shame, confusion, and resilience is driven by stellar performances—Naomi Ackie shines alongside Victor—and a compelling non-linear structure that gradually unearths and absorbs the emotional core of the story.

Santosh (2025)

Direction: Sandhya Suri
Country: India

Following two documentaries (I For India, 2005; Around India With a Movie Camera, 2018), British-Indian writer-director Sandhya Suri delivers a terrifying portrait of contemporary India in her fictional feature debut, Santosh. The film, grounded in stark realism, begins as a poignant social drama before evolving into a gripping political thriller.

The story follows Santosh Saini (Shahana Goswami), a 28-year-old widow who assumes her late husband's position in the police under the government’s “compassionate appointment” scheme.Her first assignment is to investigate the rape and murder of a 15-year-old Dalit girl, under the supervision of the tough, cynical, and feminist Inspector Geeta Sharma (Sunita Rajwar), a staunch enforcer who condones police brutality.

As a work of urgent conviction, Santosh embraces deliberate neo-noir tones, and is heavy on atmosphere and unhurried in its development. The main character initially jubilates with her desire for freedom, only to confront the deeply embedded social ills of modern India: a rigid caste system, the demonization of Muslims, femicide, systemic corruption, and toxic patriarchy.

Suri opts for restrained emotional expression, emphasizing careful staging and precise framing to reinforce each dramatic intention. Goswami and Rajwar deliver immaculate performances, exploring the gray zones of human nature and the moral complexity faced when confronting brutal injustices. It’s impossible to deny that Santosh is thoroughly good, offering an unsettling but imperative viewing.

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.

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.

Grand Tour (2025)

Direction: Miguel Gomes
Country: Portugal / other

A loving tribute to silent dramas and classic historical adventures, Grand Tour—filmed in breathtaking black-and-whit—is a art-house triumph co-written and directed by Miguel Gomes, the visionary behind Tabu (2012), Arabian Nights (2015), and The Tsugua Diaries (2021). Evoking the spirit of Murnau and Pabst, while channeling Herzog’s Fitzcarraldo and elements of Von Sternberg and Mizoguchi, the film thrives on the cultural richness of its settings, imbued with an underground charisma and an enigmatic touch.

Inspired by a passage from William Somerset Maugham’s 1930 travel memoir The Gentleman in the Parlour, the story unfolds in 1918, following Edward Abbot (Gonçalo Waddington), a restless bohemian and possible spy stationed in Rangoon. His determined fiancée, Molly Singleton (Crista Alfaiate), sets out on a journey across Asia in pursuit of him. While he wants freedom, she wants marriage.

As comprehensive and lucid as a tone poem, Grand Tour is a dreamlike, tragicomic odyssey—a lavish production in which every frame pulses with expressiveness and dramatic force. Pushing intuition to its limits, Gomes liberates himself from the conventions of historical reconstruction. The result is a hybrid of experimental cinema, documentary, and fiction, through which he explores the wavering contours of human behavior with poetic clarity. His mastery of script, camera, and performance direction is striking throughout.

With just a bit more emotional depth and heightened tension, the film could have soared even higher. Still, Grand Tour exercises a powerful grip and stands as a strong recommendation.

On Becoming a Guinea Fowl (2025)

Direction: Rungano Nyoni
Country: Zambia / UK / other

In Zambian Rungano Nyoni’s On Becoming a Guinea Fowl, characters move through a world marred by sexual abuse, trauma, and an infuriating societal passivity. Nyoni, who gained international acclaim with I Am Not a Witch (2017), also penned the script, centering the story on Shula (Susan Chardy), a fragile and apparently cold middle-class woman who shows no grief when she discovers her uncle’s body lying in the street. 

This moving, quietly furious drama, laced with moments of dark humor, gathers powerful elements to present a stirring call for a more just and self-aware Africa. It offers a compelling lens through which to examine Zambian traditions, cultural attitudes, and widespread indifference to issues like statutory rape and systemic sexism. Haunting and unsettling, the narrative’s ending may initially feel unresolved, yet compassion weaves subtly through the film. The emotionally fractured Shula is likened to a guinea fowl—an alert, talkative African bird known for warning others of lurking danger.

Tonally assured throughout, On Becoming a Guinea Fowl delivers a piercing, unflinching portrait of a family in desperate need of healing. Its ethos hits hard, and Nyoni deserves high praise for tackling such a difficult subject with discernment and sensitivity.