Vermiglio (2024)

Direction: Maura Delpero
Country: Italy / Frane / Belgium

Vermiglio is a slow-burning yet largely compelling drama that thrives on its brooding atmosphere and tonal consistency. The title refers to a mountainous region where the harsh wintry landscape and limited resources underscore the hardships of wartime life.

Set in 1944, the film follows Pietro Riso (Giuseppe De Domenico), a deserting soldier who arrives in the village and falls in love with Lucia (Martina Scrinzi), the eldest daughter of the schoolteacher. Their love culminates in marriage, but fate, as often, proves unkind. Simultaneously, we witness the teacher's (Tommaso Ragno) personal struggles and the tribulations of two of his other children: Ada (Roberta Rovelli), tormented by guilt over impure thoughts and resorting to self-punishment, and Dino (Patrick Gardner), a wine-drinking boy who struggles academically.

Desolation and inertia permeate this powerful, well-acted tale, brought to life by Maura Delpero’s assured direction and elegantly composed visuals. Her meticulous gaze channels echoes of Anton Chekhov and Nuri Bilge Ceylan, prompting reflection on life’s quiet sorrows and joys. Despite the film’s languid pace and contemplative storytelling, Delpero persistently seeks and captures moments of humanity in her second foray into fictional filmmaking. The bittersweet Vermiglio earned the Grand Jury Prize at Venice.

All We Imagine as Light (2024)

Direction: Payal Kapadia
Country: India

All We Imagine as Light is a heartfelt love letter to Mumbai — a poetic, tender, and thoughtful portrait of contemporary India that follows the lives of two nurses and a cook working at a bustling Mumbai hospital. 

Prabha (Kani Kusruti), an experienced nurse, struggles with loneliness, haunted by an arranged marriage to a stranger who quickly immigrated to Germany and hasn't contacted her for over a year. Her vivacious younger roommate, Anu (Divya Prabha), challenges societal norms by dating a Muslim man, stirring a quiet jealousy in Prabha, who feels stagnant despite the subtle advances of Dr. Manoj (Azees Nedumangad). Meanwhile, their friend Parvathy (Chhaya Kadam), a widowed cook, faces displacement as a greedy landlord threatens her with eviction, forcing her to return to her hometown of Ratnagari.

Powered by three exquisite performances, this nuanced Indian tale unfolds in two distinct parts, each marked by its own landscape and emotional cadence. The film presents diverse forms of resistance against life's adversities, with writer-director Payal Kapadia, who has a background in documentary, wrapping every scene in grace and quiet revelations. Rather than seeking dramatic excesses, she adheres to a composed subtlety that works better than a river of tears. 

All We Imagine as Light is a soothing balm amidst the chaotic rhythms of modern Mumbai, offering a gentle meditation on life's complexities. Its lingering tenderness leaves a profound impression long after the credits roll.

Armand (2024)

Direction: Halfdan Ullmann Tøndel
Country: Norway 

Norwegian writer/director Halfdan Ullmann Tøndel, the grandson of actress Liv Ullmann and director Ingmar Bergman, makes his feature debut with Armand, a film steeped in secrets, lies, suspicions, and the complexities of troubled adult lives. Drawing inspiration from the works of Luis Buñuel, Tøndel crafts a tense narrative centered on Elisabeth (Renate Reinsve), an emotionally complex actor with a troubled past. She is summoned to an emergency meeting at her son's school, where allegations of potential inappropriate behavior by her 6-year-old son, Armand, toward his cousin are under investigation. Previous incidents compound the suspicions. 

The film's intrigue lies in deciphering whether Elisabeth, both neurotic and resilient, is genuinely vulnerable or merely playing a role. While the characters on screen may disappoint us in various ways, the film keeps a firm grip on its audience, pulling viewers into an emotional maelstrom reminiscent of a heavy Bergman-esque drama. 

A succession of uncomfortable and oppressive situations blurs boundaries and emphasizes moral ambiguities. However, the outcome lacks genuine surprise as the initial puzzle gradually falls neatly into place. Though the film is grounded in striking realism, dreamlike interludes choreographed with artistic intent periodically interrupt the narrative. Unfortunately, these sequences come off as ineffectual.

With dashes of dark humor, unnerving cynicism, and a striking lead performance, Armand grapples with superficiality without ever abandoning tension. Tøndel’s diligent filmmaking style captures the unsettling, but fails to deliver something more profound.

The Room Next Door (2024)

Direction: Pedro Almodovar
Country: USA 

The Room Next Door proves to be a far better book than a movie. Celebrated Spanish director Pedro Almodóvar adapts Sigrid Nunez’s What Are You Going Through with conventional dialogue and a calm, polished dramatization that feels too cerebral to evoke powerful emotions.

Despite its heavy central theme, the film isn't a painful watch. It's poignant, occasionally depressing, yet also comforting as it portrays a touching relationship between two captivating characters who admire one another deeply. Ingrid (Julianne Moore), a celebrated author, unexpectedly reconnects with Martha (Tilda Swinton), a retired New York Times war journalist battling stage-three cervical cancer and undergoing experimental treatment. After a failed round of treatment, Martha makes a disconcerting request, asking Ingrid to be present in "the room next door" when she takes an euthanasia pill. Though troubled by the request, Ingrid agrees out of compassion and loyalty. 

The film boasts top-tier performances, though they cannot completely overshadow script oscillations and a certain stiffness in the dialogue. Almodóvar orchestrates the story with elegance, presenting a sober, aesthetically refined depiction that acknowledges the fragile beauty of life while delicately studying suffering. Themes of death, forgiveness, friendship, and regret unfold in a series of contemplations that often feel superfluous. The absence of surprising twists, dramatic friction, or even subdued intensity reveals a more restrained and simplistic Almodóvar, lacking the emotional weight of his past masterpieces. 

The weight of the film rests entirely on the shoulders of its exceptional actors, with Moore and Swinton—the latter delivering another remarkable double role—holding the film together with a genuine friendship supported in honesty and compassion. 
Failing to make a lasting, thought-provoking impression, The Room Next Door still has power, but not as much as it should. Blame the restrained aesthetics, light approach, and occasional conversational inelasticity.

The New Year That Never Came (2024)

Direction: Bogdan Muresanu
Country: Romania

Bogdan Muresanu’s debut feature, The New Year That Never Came, is a political Romanian tragicomedy expanding on his 2018 short film The Christmas Gift. Set against the tumultuous backdrop of the Romanian revolution, the story unfolds over a single day in Bucharest, just before the fall of Nicolae Ceaușescu’s regime.

Filmed in a restrained 4:3 format, the film relies on a skilled ensemble cast to deliver a stripped-down exercise in social realism. While Mureșanu’s simmering narrative never fully boils over, it serves as a poignant meditation on oppression and fear. Carefully structured and tightly measured, it maintains a controlled tension that keeps the audience engaged.

The characters are far from preoccupied with trivial matters. Among them, we meet a disillusioned young student contemplating an illegal escape from the country, a group of men desperately trying to manipulate a politically damning video, a middle-aged woman emotionally torn as she faces losing her home, and a father thrust into jeopardy because of an innocent letter written by his son.

Through its pointed surface, The New Year That Never Came manages to tell us a great deal, capturing both the gravity and absurdity of life under a collapsing regime and offering viewers an evocative and thought-provoking experience. The film’s resonance and craftsmanship earned it the Orizzonti Award and the FIPRESCI Prize at Venice Film Festival.

Bird (2024)

Direction: Andrea Arnold
Country: UK 

Bird—a strange, captivating, and sensory coming-of-age drama—marks an extraordinary return for Andrea Arnold, one of the most brilliant independent filmmakers of our time. Known for her raw, direct, and original filmmaking style, Arnold’s work occasionally leans heavily on handheld camera techniques, which may polarize some viewers, but here they deliver stunning results. Her approach thrives in crafting complex environments filled with genuine, idiosyncratic characters.

The film follows a 12-year-old girl, played by the astonishing Nykiya Adams, who delivers a breakout performance as the young protagonist navigating life in a struggling neighborhood in Kent, Southeast England. Bird is not only a testament to Arnold’s command of storytelling but also a deeply satisfying emotional journey. It surprises with its quality and rewards the trust it asks of its audience, presenting a distinct aesthetic that marks another bold step in Arnold’s celebrated career rooted in social realism. This time, however, Arnold enriches the narrative with touches of fantasy that intrigue and captivate. 

The instincts are primitive and euphoric but the humanity is radiant and comforting, infused with a surprising sweetness in moments where harshness might have been expected. If Arnold’s aim was to push buttons and make us feel the environment and the emotions surrounding the protagonist, she's succeeded wildly. Her high-flying fable and observant social chronicle never loses track of its characters and their humanity. Even in its hauntingly poetic and minimalist surrealist interludes, Bird soars with both primal urgency and a tender heart, transcending the hardships it portrays.

Confirmed as an accomplished director of great gifts and passions, Arnold makes the most of her incredible cast of non-professional actors - the exceptions are Barry Keoghan (The Killing of a Sacred Deer, 2017; Dunkirk, 2017; The Banshees of Inisherin, 2022) and Franz Rogowski (Transit, 2018; Great Freedom, 2021; Passages, 2023), who add depth and nuance to the ensemble. The film’s diligent pacing, electrifying British post-punk soundtrack, and dynamic camera work amplify the protagonist’s sense of anxiety and disorientation, making Bird a visceral, radiant, and highly rewarding experience.

A Real Pain (2024)

Direction: Jesse Eisenberg
Country: USA

A Real Pain, the sophomore directorial feature by Jesse Eisenberg, who also stars, focuses on two American Jewish cousins having a hard time to fully reconnect and deal with their feelings during a one-week trip to Poland to honor their late grandmother. David (Eisenberg), a devoted husband and father, is reserved, obsessive-compulsive, sentimental, and occasionally jealous. In contrast, Benji (Kieran Culkin) is a free-spirited, bluntly honest, impulsive, and depressive foil. While both are grateful for the shared journey, their genuine friendship is rife with tension and friction.

This seriocomic slice of life, penned by Eisenberg, feels effortlessly light, even as it navigates a series of awkward situations. However, the narrative structure is so sparse it often feels skeletal. Dramatic moments occasionally fail to reach their emotional apex, and the simplistic character psychology aligns with a script that seems designed more to gently entertain than to provoke or deeply resonate.

The premise dissipates quickly, leaving surface impressions that fluctuate between pleasantly whimsical and mildly moving. The film’s subdued emotional tone is further undercut by its ambiguous and bittersweet ending, which feels stagnant. What raises A Real Pain slightly above the mediocrity is its comic riffs—toggling between annoying and amusing—and the strong chemistry between Culkin and Eisenberg. The quirkiest thing about it is how much it spends in trivial details at the sound of Chopin’s melancholic nocturnes and waltzes. Not being particularly inventive or diverting, A Real Pain remains in tepid waters for most of its duration, and failed to move me in almost every aspect.

Sujo (2024)

Direction: Astrid Rondero, Fernanda Valadez
Country: Mexico 

Following their debut feature The Darkest Days of Us (2017), Mexican filmmakers Astrid Rondero and Fernanda Valadez reunite for Sujo, a coming-of-age crime drama. The story follows a young boy named Sujo (Juan Jesús Varela), who becomes a target of Mexican cartels due to his lineage. Forced to live in hiding, he eventually leaves the violence-stricken Tierra Caliente of Michoacán for Mexico City, seeking an escape from turmoil and a chance for a dignified and constructive life.

Presented in four uneven chapters, the film offers an innocent perspective on Mexico's drug-related violence. Its narrative fails to evoke a strong emotional connection with the protagonist, never finding deep wells of excitement in a whirlingly divergent romp blending vengeful cartel activity and imminent redemption.This lack of passion makes it difficult to become fully invested in a tale that gives you feelings and impressions, but roundly fails to sell itself as something deeper as its twists are not particularly surprising. Therefore, we ultimately come out of it more numb than fascinated. 

There's a glimmer of interest in the film's narrative contortions, and it's admirable that the directors have taken its subject seriously. However, it's just not thrilling enough. Despite its ambitious themes, Sujo leaves behind a sense of untapped potential.

Small Things Like These (2024)

Direction: Tim Mielants
Country: Ireland / Belgium

Based on Claire Keegan’s best-selling novel, Small Things Like These is a poignant Irish film directed by Belgian filmmaker Tim Mielants (Patrick, 2019), with a screenplay by Enda Walsh, co-writer of Hunger (2008) alongside Steve McQueen. The film stars Cillian Murphy as Bill Furlong, a quiet and diligent coal merchant who uncovers a harrowing secret within his small town’s convent. The mother superior, Sister Mary (Emily Watson), attempts to buy his silence with Christmas gifts, but Bill remains haunted by what he witnesses during his deliveries. As the story unfolds, he confronts unsettling truths about his own past.

The film’s naturalistic treatment—marked by nuanced performances and understated direction—heightens the realism of a story that is quietly profound in its simplicity and austerity. While it lacks a traditional climax and occasionally struggles with languid pacing, the narrative resonates deeply as a restrained yet powerful exploration of Catholic institutional abuses. Unlike more sensationalist approaches, the film opts for a steady, somber tone, subtly gesturing toward the hope of change.

Mielants crafts a sincere, lugubrious historical drama suffused with disenchantment and anguish. It stands as a deeply humanistic work, highlighting the imperative of rescuing young victims from the cruelty of unsupervised religious institutions. However, the film occasionally stumbles upon its understated ambitions, with moments of narrative ennui and a tendency to leave its emotional potential underexplored.

I was touched in the end, but never got hooked during the narrative process. I wanted to feel more, I guess. Yet, the ones who stay with the film may find a quiet reward in its understated power.

Memoir of a Snail (2024)

Direction: Adam Elliot
Country: Australia

Memoir of a Snail, a darkly humorous stop-motion animation loosely inspired by director Adam Elliot’s own life, chronicles the trials and tribulations of lonely Australian misfit Grace Pudel, from childhood to adulthood.

Grace is a hoarder, an obsessive snail collector, and kleptomaniac born prematurely. She narrates her poignant story to Sylvia, her favorite snail, now set free for good. Through her reflections, we learn about her transformative friendship with Pinky—a liberal octogenarian who taught her to see life differently and embrace hope over despair—her strong bond with her twin brother Gilbert, and her complex relationship with her secretive repairman husband, Ken.

Sadness permeates Grace's journey, layering despair upon despair, yet the film offers a final glimmer of hope. Despite its melancholic undertones, Memoir of a Snail stands out as a beautifully crafted tragicomedy for adults, consistently daring in its intellectual and emotional exploration. The story's distinctive tone and bittersweet idiosyncrasies highlight themes of loss, loneliness, and resilience. 

As animated work, it is visually flawless, and as a drama, it achieves an emotional depth that surpasses many live-action films this year. It offers a mature, therapeutic, and unsentimental examination of a singular life, where every element integrates seamlessly. For all its intentionally bizarre qualities, the film retains a dark humor and sharp visual wit, blending hope and heartbreak with devastating emotional impact.

Anora (2024)

Direction: Sean Baker
Country: USA 

With his bittersweet worldview and keen sense of the ridiculous, Sean Baker (Tangerine, 2015; The Florida Project, 2017) delivers a jubilant if cruel indie comedy with Anora, his eighth feature film. A romantic tragicomedy that defies standard conventions, the film centers on Ani (Mikey Madison), a 23-year-old sex worker in New York whose life takes an unexpected turn when she marries Ivan Zhakharov (Mark Eydelshteyn), the spoiled son of a Russian oligarch.

This zany nuptial odyssey masterfully balances hysterical and heartfelt tones, weaving together themes of love, fury, laughter, and tears. Baker crafts anarchic, tension-filled situations that satirize unchecked capitalism and immature love, prompting reflection on two disparate souls seemingly escaping their respective prisons. The open-ended staging challenges its actors, who excel amidst the chaos, as the narrative seamlessly shifts between humor and heartache. The result is a dazzlingly paced love story driven by the electric chemistry between Madison and Eydelshteyn. 

Baker’s risk-taking approach and compelling writing are rewarded with neat images, a frenetic pace, and outstanding performances. The director films more statically than ever before, unafraid to take some time on certain scenes to make his social satire closer to reality. Despite its measured approach, monotony never creeps in, as Anora thrives on its originality and compelling characters who continuously evolve. 

With youthful ardor, audacious storytelling, and interpretive depth, the Palme D’Or winner Anora reaffirms Baker as a standout voice in American independent cinema. It’s a thought-provoking, wildly entertaining work that leaves a lasting impression.

Maria (2024)

Direction: Pablo Larraín
Country: USA / Italy / Germany

With Maria, which depicts the final week in the life of legendary American-born Greek opera singer Maria Callas, Chilean director Pablo Larraín completes his trilogy of biopics spotlighting women who shaped the 20th century. Following Jackie (2016), where Natalie Portman portrayed Jackie Onassis, and Spencer (2021), starring Kristen Stewart as Lady Diana, this film casts Angelina Jolie in a surprising and transformative performance as Callas. Jolie not only embodies the role with grace but also lends her voice to the singing. However, despite its poignancy, the screenplay— penned by Steven Knight (Dirty Pretty Things, 2002; Eastern Promises, 2007)—falters in delivering emotional resonance in pivotal moments. 

At 53, Maria lives in Paris, haunted by a traumatic childhood in Athens and the realization that her voice, once unparalleled, has faltered. Alternating between reality and imagination, she leans on her devoted butler Ferruccio (Pierfrancesco Favino) and housemaid Bruna (Alba Rohrwacher) for support. Flashbacks, rendered in stark black-and-white, vividly illustrate her turbulent teenage years and her fraught relationship with the charismatic but domineering Aristotle Onassis (Haluk Bilginer).

Filmed with grandeur and sophistication, Maria eschews melodramatic artifice but probably could've benefited from a little more energy in its telling. While polished and coherent, the drama feels predictably prepackaged. Larraín and Jolie keep the picture moving, yet struggling to showcase how the diva’s trauma and health decline affected her final artistic aspirations. 

The period details are meticulously crafted, and Ed Lachman’s cinematography is nothing short of stunning, but the staging constantly oscillates between elegant mannerism and calibrated realism. Maria is dispensable, and only Jolie’s masterful performance can make it a worthwhile watch for admirers of the actress and the opera icon alike.

Black Dog (2024)

Direction: Guan Hu
Country: China

Co-written by versatile Chinese director Guan Hu (Cow, 2009; Mr. Six, 2015), Black Dog is a remarkable and deeply moving drama brimming with soulful and tender moments. Set in a transforming town on the edge of the Gobi Desert in Northwest China, the story follows Lang (Eddie Peng), a former stunt motorcyclist and rock band member who returns to his hometown after being released from prison. Alienated in a world rife with cruelty, Lang finds solace and renewed hope in a wild black dog with a bounty on its head. Along the way, he confronts old enemies, visits his dying alcoholic father, and forms a special bond with a belly dancer employed by a new circus in town.

Hu’s masterfully crafted drama showcases mesmerizing camerawork, with the lens trailing and circling characters intimately, creating an immersive visual experience. The steady pacing allows the emotional weight of the story to unfold organically, while the stunning performances breathe life into the characters. The film’s aesthetic excellence is further elevated by Pink Floyd’s evocative songs, which add depth and resonance to the narrative. With meticulous attention to the intricacies of everyday life, Black Dog shatters the illusion of emptiness, drawing viewers into its rich, observational storytelling.

Defined by Guan Hu’s distinct directorial vision, Black Dog stands as his finest work to date. This profoundly affecting tale of reintegration, loneliness, and human resilience is both a bold sociopolitical critique and an intimate exploration of personal struggles. The film leaves a lasting impression, inviting viewers to reflect long after the credits roll. With a brief but notable cameo by acclaimed director Jia Zhangke, Black Dog is a testament to the resurgence of Chinese cinema on the global stage.

The Count of Monte Cristo (2024)

Direction: Matthieu Delaporte, Alexandre de La Patellière
Country: France 

For their third feature film, French filmmakers and screenwriters Matthieu Delaporte and Alexandre de La Patellière take on Alexandre Dumas’ classic The Count of Monte Cristo, a sweeping tale of love, tragedy, and revenge.

With its meticulous period details, lush settings, and an old-fashioned approach to storytelling, this grand production delivers visual flair but falls short in generating excitement, suffering from a lack of surprises. While this tame, three-hour adaptation replaces some characters and unfolds with formal, somewhat academic staging, it nonetheless secured a strong position at the French box office.

Pierre Niney (Frantz, 2016; Yves Saint Laurent, 2014) is appropriately earnest as Edmond Dantès. Wrongfully imprisoned and later escaping from a remote island prison, Dantès orchestrates a calculated revenge against the three men—Danglars, Gérard de Villefort, and Fernand de Morcerf—who destroyed his life. 

It’s a constant battle between polished images and undramatic sequences that could be better matured. Still, there's still something to ponder about the vengeful Count tale that's worth pondering. If nothing else, this adaptation serves as a nostalgic reminder that, on occasion, they still make movies like they used to.

His Three Daughters (2024)

Direction: Azazel Jacobs
Country: USA 

His Three Daughters, the seventh feature by Azazel Jacobs (The Lovers, 2017; French Exit, 2020), is a skillfully crafted chamber drama with richly drawn characters and a credible story. Set in a New York apartment, the film revolves around three estranged daughters who gather at their dying father’s home, bracing for his imminent passing. 

Rachel (Natasha Lyonne) is a heavy weed smoker who has been living with their father and apparently seems disconnected of everything and everyone. Katie (Carrie Coon), in stark contrast, is rigid, irritable, and excessively controlling. Christina (Elizabeth Olsen), the most conciliatory of the three, is more emotional and never complains about life. Little by little, we learn their cracks, their feelings, and certain aspects of their relationships that allow us to have a nuanced perspective on their shared history and personal struggles. These revelations build toward a restrained yet poignant finale.

While the story is undeniably familiar, Jacobs transforms it into a deeply absorbing experience, imbuing the film with both soul and bitterness. All three leads do quality work in a 100-minute showcase of talent, portraying complex and worth meeting characters.

Death becomes one of the tragic figures in this scenario, and there’s something in the creative spark behind Jacobs’ vision that sets it apart. His look at sisterhood isn’t intended to be perfect, opting instead for an honest portrayal of clashing personalities and the ways they soften in the face of shared grief. Although you won’t find anything unexpected here, a naturalistic tone is maintained throughout, which crackles with an emotional energy and cackles with a repentant laughter.

Blitz (2024)

Direction: Steve McQueen
Country: UK / USA

British filmmaker Steve McQueen, celebrated for his unflinching dramas like Hunger (2008), Shame (2011), and the Oscar-winning 12 Years a Slave (2013), returns with Blitz, a wobbly wartime drama that tackles themes of racism, loss, and survival. Written by McQueen, this fictional story anchored in a brutal historical reality, is set during WWII in London, a city under relentless bombing by German forces. The protagonist is George (Elliott Heffernan), a mixed-race boy sent to the countryside by his mother Rita (Saoirse Ronan), in a desperate effort to keep him safe amidst the chaos.

McQueen's direction is distinguished by formal rigor and precise realism, but his film is less impactful than usual. Although effectively capturing the horrors of war and the anguish of separation, the film’s not completely free of academicism, its success hampered by an uneven intensity. It’s too manufactured for my taste, with a few scenes depicted in an excessively casual way to ring true. 

Despite a neat visual aesthetic marked by glossy frames of war destruction, the film gets lost in the multiplicity of its ambitions and tangled in conventional triteness and sentimentality. Blitz feels weighed down by its own limitations. In general, it doesn't transcend, and viewers may feel a little icky about the experience. 

A Different Man (2024)

Direction: Aaron Schimberg
Country: USA

A Different Man is a bold and provocative tragicomic fable that takes flight with its offbeat details and quirky, unexpected situations. Written and directed by Aaron Schimberg (Chained For Life, 2019), this darkly twisted story follows Edward Lemuel (Sebastian Stan), a reserved man whose life takes a dramatic turn after undergoing major facial reconstructive surgery to treat neurofibromatosis—a rare genetic condition that causes tumors and malformations. Emerging with a new identity as Guy Moratz, Edward starts working as an actor with his playwright neighbor Ingrid (Renate Reinsve), who is staging an off-Broadway play about his former life. Yet, his fresh start takes a sinister turn when he becomes fixated on Oswald (Adam Pearson), an actor with neurofibromatosis cast to portray the old Edward. 

The film’s offbeat jazz soundtrack gives this satire an awesome ambiance, making it undeniably fun and bonkers in ways that only weird movies can be. Schimberg’s confident direction balances whimsy with profundity, crafting a small symphony of enchanting disharmony that occasionally flirts with implausibility but never loses its edge. Through its blend of humor and pathos, the film explores themes of ego, ambition, affirmation, and unrequited love, offering a thoughtful meditation on the power and perils of transformation. 

Imaginative, subtly disconcerting, and solidly performed, A Different Man infuses a dry sense of humor while packing a cathartic emotional punch throughout. It won’t leave you indifferent.

Emilia Perez (2024)

Direction: Jacques Audiard
Country: France

Jacques Audiard’s tenth feature film, Emilia Perez, is a flamboyant Mexican extravaganza filmed in Paris. Originally envisioned as an opera, the film is a messy fusion of musical comedy, drama, and thriller, marked by its shifting tones. By turns delicate and brutal, the story channels the flair of Pedro Almodovar and Baz Luhrman, introducing gender issues, the role of women in modern society, and the dangerous world of Mexican cartels. It’s a risky and irreverent departure from Audiard’s usual style, seen in acclaimed works such as A Prophet (2009), Rust and Bone (2012), and Dheepan (2015). 

Sometimes inspiring, sometimes bordering on the ridiculous, other times sordidly melodramatic, the film follows Rita Mora Castro (Zoe Saldaña), a skilled lawyer grappling with professional dissatisfaction and moral conflict. Her dreams of a rising legal career are stifled by a firm more invested in laundering criminals' reputations than pursuing justice. However, she receives an unusual and lucrative proposition by Manitas Del Monte (Karla Sofía Gascón), a notorious cartel kingpin seeking to transform his life. With Rita’s help, Manitas transitions into Emilia Perez, embarking on a mission to incarcerate cartel leaders, locate the bodies of their victims, and reconnect with the family Emilia left behind. 

Emilia Perez is a cocktail of contrasting flavors, blending vibrant extravagance with somber undertones. The result leaves an odd taste in the mouth. While the premise is compelling, its execution feels uneven. The film occasionally soars with its bold storytelling but stumbles when leaning too heavily on its musical elements. Even the most lavish dance numbers come across as either forced or flat. 

Despite these flaws, there are redeeming qualities. Saldaña delivers a sensational performance, bringing depth and nuance to Rita, while Audiard’s ambition and willingness to take creative risks deserve recognition. Still, the film struggles to work as a whole, and I can’t say I found it exciting.

The Damned (2024)

Direction: Roberto Minervini
Country: USA / Italy / Belgium

Roberto Minervini’s The Damned is a stark and minimalist war drama that eschews grandiose battle scenes in favor of an intimate focus on individuals caught in the relentless grip of the American Civil War. Set during the brutal winter of 1862, the film follows a group of Union volunteers tasked with patrolling the uncharted Western Territories. The soldiers must navigate treacherous, snow-covered landscapes and endure the punishing cold, all while grappling with existential reflections on faith, patriotism, family, and survival. 

Even if the film offers some intriguing meditations on its weighty themes, the narrative feels overly pared down, delivering little in the way of tension or excitement. Minervini’s restrained direction keeps viewers at a frustrating emotional distance, making it difficult to connect with or fully invest in the characters. The most striking thing about The Damned is how ordinary it is, feeling like a moody vignette rather than a fully realized story. Unfortunately, it doesn’t come with sufficient layers to suss out.

Conclave (2024)

Direction: Edward Berger
Country: UK / USA

From Andrew Berger, the German director behind the multi-award-winning anti-war epic All Quiet on the Western Front (2022), Andrew Berger, comes the more subdued Conclave. This religion-themed thriller, penned by Peter Straughan and based on Robert Harris’ 2016 novel, delves into the shadowy world of Vatican politics. Ralph Fiennes takes the lead as Cardinal-Dean Thomas Lawrence, a man grappling with a personal crisis of faith while tasked with overseeing the papal conclave following the pope's sudden death.

As the slow and ritualistic process of selecting the new leader of the Catholic Church unfolds, Lawrence encounters a web of secrets, conspiracies, prejudice, and ambition. Among the candidates vying for the position, one figure stands out: Vincent Benitez (Carlos Diehz), a little-known Mexican archbishop stationed in Kabul, whose presence stirs unease and curiosity among the cardinals.

Cocooned in gravitas and profound doubt, Conclave thrives on the nuanced performances of its  seasoned cast. Fiennes, for example, not only chews the scenery but savors it, as he expresses deep concern about the future of the church with Stanley Tucci and Isabella Rossellini offering strong supporting turns. 

Although not particularly groundbreaking in its clash of modernity and tradition within the Church, the film at least never commits the deadliest sin in cinema: boredom, providing enough good material to keep its iniquitous fires burning. Yet, this gun-free thriller—effectively blending faith, tradition, and politics—could have been even more gripping if infused with more scandal, intrigue, and mystery. Ultimately, your enjoyment of Conclave may depend on your perspective on its themes.