U Are the Universe (2025)

Direction: Pavlo Ostrikov
Country: Ukraine / Belgium

U Are the Universe is a minimalist, low-budget Ukrainian space odyssey with unusual tonal shifts and much to admire. Written and directed by Pavlo Ostrikov, the film stars Volodymyr Kravchuk as a solitary, hot-tempered, and a bit self-centered astronaut tasked with transporting nuclear waste to Jupiter’s abandoned moon, Callisto. When Earth suddenly explodes, he accepts his fate as the last human in the universe—until a radio message from a female meteorologist stationed near Saturn suggests otherwise.

The film signals a fresh and exciting entry in European sci-fi cinema, drawing the viewer into its survivalist premise with steady, absorbing momentum. It remains consistently mesmerizing, sustained by Ostrikov’s thoughtful direction. Both the set design and special effects are impressively realized, while occasional touches of deliberately cheesy music enhance the film’s offbeat humor—particularly in the evolving, love-hate dynamic between the astronaut and Max, his devoted onboard computer.

Caught between the certainty of death and the emergence of a love he has never known, the protagonist undergoes a form of spiritual awakening that transcends mere survival instinct. The film is constructed with meticulous care, generating a palpable sense of uncertainty, wonder, and emotional depth.

Loneliness stands at the core of the narrative, and U Are the Universe explores it with striking effectiveness—blending humor, tenderness, suspense, and claustrophobia with substance. By the time the credits roll, its impact is undeniable—a small but remarkable gem that leaves a lasting impression.

A Poet (2026)

Direction: Simón Mesa Soto
Country: Colombia 

Not without humor and acerbic social commentary, A Poet marks the second feature by Colombian writer-director Simón Mesa Soto, who previously garnered awards at Cannes, Havana and Chicago with Amparo (2021). Led by Ubeimar Rios—a non-professional actor portraying an alcoholic, immature, and washed-up poet with an unsympathetic face, a crooked posture, and a weary gait—the film offers a slice of tumultuous life shaped by a complicated man striving to become better.

Oscar Restrepo (Ríos), financially dependent on his elderly mother, leads a solitary existence. He fails not only to gain recognition as a poet and to stop drinking, but also to connect with his daughter, who is preparing to leave for college. Yet his fundamentally kind nature compels him to help a talented young student after reluctantly accepting a position teaching philosophy. There is failure here, certainly, but also a quiet sense of dignity.

Shot over the course of a month on grainy 16mm—lending a nostalgic texture—the film stands out for its cunning and the strength of its writing. Soto crafts something oblique, downbeat, and offbeat, infused with darkly comic and cynical observations. Emotional turmoil abounds, yet not a moment feels wasted; even the humor carries an undercurrent of awkwardness. Nervy, imaginative, and sensitive, A Poet is an outrageously original comedy-drama that draws something unexpected from the tensions between social classes.

Amrum (2026)

Direction: Fatih Akin
Country: Germany

Based on German actor, director, and screenwriter Mark Bohm’s childhood, Fatih Akin’s Amrum follows Nanning, a good-hearted 12-year-old boy—a member of the Hitler Youth and son of a Nazi dignitary—who becomes obsessed with pleasing his mother by finding the food she craves, especially after she gives birth. Set on the North Sea island of Amrum at the end of World War II, the film is a solid, intimate effort in which the distinct humanity of its key characters makes it both affecting and singular.

As Nanning innocently believes he has everything under control, his world begins to crumble, mirroring the collapse of his family’s misguided beliefs. Despite the surrounding confusion, hardship, and darkness of the era, the touching finale carries a sense of grace and hope for the future.

Compellingly directed and naturally performed, this bittersweet coming-of-age story is anchored by young actor Jasper Billerbeck—a true revelation—who brings tenderness even to the harshest moments. It stands as Akin’s strongest film since The Edge of Heaven (2007), portraying horror through candor, reality through dreams, and suffering through innocence. With a faintly sinister yet soulful fairytale quality, Amrum is a well-observed and powerfully executed little film with beautiful imagery.

Father Mother Sister Brother (2025)

Direction: Jim Jarmusch
Country: USA

Father Mother Sister Brother, the latest anthology drama by acclaimed American filmmaker Jim Jarmusch—consistently remarkable since the 1980s, with too many notable films to list—centers on the distant relationships between adult children and their parents. With humor and elegance, Jarmusch explores these complexities through three distinct stories—separated by dreamy visual interludes—set in different countries, where peculiar elements intersect, such as coordinated clothing colors, Rolex watches, books, and toasts with “forbidden” liquids. The details are delightful, and the phenomenal ensemble cast—Tom Waits, Mayim Bialik, Adam Driver, Cate Blanchett, Charlotte Rampling, Vicky Krieps, Indya Moore, and Luka Sabbat—imbues each segment with authentic resonance, helping to shape the film into a gem of incisive emotional poetry.

Shot with warmth and precision, this triptych feels both melancholic and acerbic, capturing a sense of distance that appears irretrievable. Jarmusch resists moralizing, choosing instead to observe with acuity and invite reflection on questions that remain unresolved. His screenplay proves both sharply witty and deeply poignant.

Thoughtfully constructed, the film offers a rare sense of intimacy in contemporary cinema, remaining fully captivating while delivering a powerful and thought-provoking experience. Father Mother Sister Brother stands as a beautiful work from a genuinely gifted filmmaker, one whose perspective continues to feel strikingly relevant.

Living The Land (2026)

Direction: Huo Meng
Country: China

Huo Meng’s sophomore feature, Living The Land, is a tender and poetic drama about traditional life in a corner of the Chinese countryside at the end of the 20th century. It also unfolds as a bittersweet coming-of-age story, offering an honest portrait of a farming family in the village of Bewangtai, in Henan province, seen through the eyes of a sensitive ten-year-old boy, Chuang (Wang Shang).

Living the Land may bear a simple title, but it conceals an expansive universe within a story that spans four generations. Its heartfelt approach and wealth of observation prove captivating from beginning to end—absent parents, family solidarity, the party’s grip, age-old traditions, an unwanted marriage, survival, oil diggers and progress, (controlled) birth, death… It’s a dazzling package shaped by a distinct aesthetic, bucolic tones, and deliberate pacing.

Carrying a documentary-like verisimilitude and reflective strength, the film—shot over the course of a year—is dedicated to Meng’s childhood and the farmers of his village. Rich in depth, this moving chronicle is remarkably staged and naturally performed, marking it as a film destined to leave its imprint on the history of Chinese cinema. This marvel of subtlety earned Meng the Silver Bear for Best Director at the Berlin International Film Festival.

Sound of Falling (2026)

Direction: Mascha Schilinski
Country: Germany

In Sound of Falling, the haunting sophomore feature by German helmer and co-writer Mascha Schilinski, we follow four teenage girls living in the same farmhouse across different temporal eras. Adopting a non-linear narrative, Schilinski orchestrates eerie atmospheres—some shaped by sepia-toned imagery—combining moody, painterly visuals (Fabian Gamper’s cinematography draws inspiration from the work of American photographer Francesca Woodman) with cold, bleak storytelling. Desire, anxiety, loneliness, family secrets, death obsession, and trauma form intergenerational patterns that surface in the lives of Alma, Erika, Angelika, and Lenka.

This finely tuned, skillfully composed psychological drama is a challenging watch, layering opaque and obscure passages with an imminent sense of doom. Immersed in such a soul-crushing cinematic experience, one can almost feel the anguish and desolation of these girls. It is a thematically provocative film whose nuanced details—carrying a disturbing poeticism—bind the stories together, even if connecting every narrative thread is initially difficult.

Sound of Falling is a rare, darkly beautiful movie experience and a powerful reflection on childhood, femininity, the body, and memory. Fluctuating between emotional devastation and moments of fragile stillness while navigating subtly intertwined temporalities, this character-driven work doesn’t waste time trying to be something it isn’t. A complex, sometimes elusive piece of cinema that reveals a distinctive and promising voice in contemporary German filmmaking, and certainly one worth seeing.

The Secret Agent (2025)

Direction: Kleber Mendonça Filho
Country: Brazil

Largely written in France and entirely shot in Brazil, The Secret Agent is Kleber Mendonça Filho’s depiction of 1977 Brazil during politically turbulent times. The director of Neighboring Sounds (2012), Aquarius (2016), and Bacurau (2019) had already left a strong impression on me, and now—through an intelligent, absorbing political thriller that plays with genre conventions—confirms his remarkable ability to create memorable cinema.

Hiding under the name Marcelo, widower and former professor Armando Solimões (Wagner Moura) flees a troubled past and a series of death threats by escaping to Recife, where he reconnects with his in-laws and his son. He is welcomed by Dona Sebastiana (Tania Maria) and the circle of political dissidents she shelters in her home. Forbidden from leaving Brazil and placed on a federal blacklist, Armando needs protection from his own country and from the ruthless engineer Enrique Ghirotti (Luciano Chirolli), who hires two hitmen to track him down.

The story embraces a certain opacity, with its pieces unfolding gradually and confidently through a blend of dark and luminous tones. All the answers are eventually revealed, ensuring a clear sense of closure. Even when deliberately fragmented, The Secret Agent imposes its own rhythm, exposing an extraordinary scope and atmosphere with undeniable force. The opening scene—tense and gripping—immediately signals the corruption and unorthodox witch-hunt tactics employed by Brazilian authorities in the 1970s.

With Filho’s razor-sharp direction and actors fully inhabiting their roles, the film illustrates how absolute power and systemic corruption can corrode an entire country through lies, greed, and violence. It becomes less a conventional spy film than an ode to memory and to life’s persistence in the face of fear, despite what the title might suggest. Exquisitely assembled, The Secret Agent looks and sounds authentic to its period, while resonating with the present in many ways through a restrained, unfussy approach.

Marty Supreme (2025)

Direction: Josh Safdie
Country: USA

Writer-director Josh Safdie’s fascination with flawed characters and shady worlds finds a natural outlet in Marty Supreme, a sports drama set in 1950s New York and inspired by a book by Marty Reisman, the city’s table tennis prodigy. After portraying Bob Dylan with distinction in A Complete Unknown (2024), 29-year-old French-American actor Timothée Chalamet—who also produces—stars as ping-pong player Marty Mauser in a wild tale of boundless ambition. Boisterous and relentlessly driven, Mauser, even when financially compromised, is determined to get to Tokyo at any cost to defeat his former Japanese opponent in a tense revenge match.

Boasting an organic structure and lively dialogue, the film is powered by impetuous, effective editing and flows with an ironic tone that occasionally brushes against the absurd. That doesn’t mean Marty Supreme lacks standout moments. It is bolstered by a terrific soundtrack (including New Order, Alphaville, and Tears for Fears) and bursts of visual invention. The film is a genuine cinematic experience, imaginatively told and brimming with striking energy, much of it drawn from ping-pong matches staged with remarkable intensity.

Safdie pushes the pace hard, and the actors keep up. At times, less might have been more, as the relentless intensity can become tiring, but Marty Supreme still delivers a compelling character study rich in unexpected twists, humor, and narrative momentum. It’s a blast to spend time with this rousing film: not Safdie’s most atypical work, but perhaps his most immediately accessible and funny.

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.