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.

La Cocina (2025)

Direction: Alonso Ruizpalacios
Country: Mexico / USA

Adapted from Arnold Wesker's play, La Cocina  is an exercise in style, full of highs and lows. It portrays a large, chaotic, multicultural New York kitchen where steel clangs, voices clash, and bodies move with tense urgency. Mexican director Alonso Ruizpalacios (Gueros, 2014; Museo, 2018) crafts a hot-blooded, surreal, and poetic spectacle that often resembles a wild circus.

Amid the clamor, dreams and personal struggles simmer—money has mysteriously vanished from one of the registers, and suspicion falls on Pedro Ruiz (Raúl Briones), a volatile, immature Mexican cook who has gotten Julia (Rooney Mara), an American waitress, pregnant. The film’s atmosphere is zany and sometimes disorienting, yet it retains a certain magnetic pull.

Undocumented immigrants and the marginalized are at the heart of the story—they’re indispensable and yet exploited—and the film offers fleeting but poignant glimpses into their roles in the restaurant’s ecosystem, which mirrors the nation’s broader social dynamics. The characters feel vivid and authentic, each with distinct aspirations and personalities, contributing to a frenzied spectacle that veers between hilarious and excruciating. 

La Cocina thrives primarily on its kinetic energy, with bursts of anger pushed deliberately to extremes, while also grappling with the dehumanizing mechanisms of an overburdened capitalist system that traps its workers. The score insightfully conveys the characters’ inner turmoil, and visually, cinematographer Juan Pablo Ramírez excels with striking black-and-white imagery and expressive camera work.

The Marching Band (2025)

Direction: Emmanuel Courcol
Country: France

The Matching Band, a comedy-drama co-written and directed by Emmanuel Courcol, navigates admirable humanism and warm emotion while exploring the fragile bond between two brothers who have only just discovered each other’s existence. Set in northern France, the story follows Thibaut (Benjamin Lavernhe), a successful 37-year-old conductor in desperate need of a bone marrow transplant, who also learns that he was adopted as a child. His only hope lies in contacting his biological brother, Jimmy (Pierre Lottin), whom he had never known. Despite their vastly different upbringings and lifestyles, the brothers find a shared language in music.

The Marching Band is an optimistic yet ultimately heartbreaking drama, elevated by a spirited score but marred by uneven performances—Lavernhe is more convincing than Lottin, who previously worked with Courcol in The Big Hit (2020). The film sometimes feels like a retread of familiar stories, revealing a degree of superficiality in certain areas. Its take on social determinism carries some heart, but despite its transparent staging, it lacks the raw urgency and piercing precision of Ken Loach’s realism. Instead, Courcol leans into light comedy and a saccharine tone that occasionally borders on condescension.

The plight of the mining community and its marching band, along with the romance between Jimmy and fellow band member Sabrina (Sarah Suco), feels underdeveloped—more like narrative filler than fully fleshed-out subplots. While the script doesn’t always ring true, the film ultimately lands with a powerful dramatic finale.

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.

Snow Leopard (2024)

Direction: Pema Tseden
Country: China

Snow Leopard, the final film by Pema Tseden, impresses with its stunning visuals but falters in story development and character depth. Tibetan culture takes center stage in this comedy-drama, which carries the intriguing simplicity of a fable. However, its execution often feels overly theatrical, preventing it from leaving a lasting impact.

The humor wears thin over time, and the film’s polished aesthetic renders some scenes overly staged. The narrative also suffers from the repetitive use of its central motif. Snow Leopard is carefully and calculatingly naive, with a story structure that remains distractingly uninspired. It aims for gravity but its sincerity falls flat. Tseden will likely be more enduringly remembered for Balloon (2019).

Girls Will Be Girls (2024)

Direction: Shuchi Talati
Country: India / France 

Sixteen-year-old Mira (Preeti Panigrahi) leads the life of a model student at an elite boarding school in northern India. Unexpectedly, her mother, Anila (Kani Kusruti), develops an unsettling fascination with Mira’s charismatic classmate and first boyfriend, Sri (Kesav Binoy Kiron), who is unusually mature for his age.

Girls Will Be Girls is a bold, emotionally layered coming-of-age drama that weaves together themes of family, education, and patriarchal influence in India. Shuchi Talati’s feature debut is firmly anchored in its cultural context, distinguished by a sharp script and an impeccably cast ensemble. The story unfolds with quiet force, grounded in authenticity, with Panigrahi delivering a standout performance. Talati emerges as a rare director unafraid to linger in a moment, allowing scenes to breathe. Her film is filled with contemplation, tension, and discovery, gliding between the social and the intimate with a graceful, unhurried style that avoids sentimentality.

Although not reinventing the coming-of-age genre, Talati handles the complexities of female sexuality with remarkable nuance, and Girls Will Be Girls explores far more than the usual tropes of teenage love. The tender thrill of first romance is present, but it’s painfully complicated by a forbidden familial intrusion, turning sweetness into something far more fraught and haunting.

I'm Still Here (2024)

Direction: Walter Salles
Country: Brazil

Walter Salles’ I’m Still Here straddles the line between political thriller and family drama, recounting a real-life story set during Brazil’s military dictatorship in the early 1970s. Engineer and former congressman Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello) is arrested at his home by regime enforcers and subsequently vanishes without a trace. His wife, Eunice (Fernanda Torres), is detained and interrogated for several days before being released—only to face the devastating reality that she will never see her husband again. This gripping narrative, brought to life through exceptional filmmaking and deeply committed performances, is all the more chilling because it is true. 

Salles chooses to tell the story from Eunice’s perspective, mirroring the book her son Marcelo wrote about her. The film is not only an exploration of the psychological torture inflicted by a ‘disappearance’ within a family but also an examination of the profound and irreversible changes it triggers in the lives of those left behind. It is difficult not to be moved by the shattering of a once-happy family. Yet, despite its emotional weight, the film could have been more effectively executed.

There is little suspense, even in moments that demand it, and while the story carries undeniable gravitas, it struggles with pacing. Some dragging sequences disrupt what should be a fluid narrative, and it becomes clear early on that I’m Still Here is unlikely to fully take off. The film leans into resilience and emotion but hesitates to push beyond that safe zone.

Torres, an actress of exquisite sensitivity who previously collaborated with Salles in Foreign Land (1995) and Midnight (1998), delivers a formidable performance as Eunice—a woman who transforms into a late-life lawyer and activist. She embodies Eunice’s moral integrity and quiet resistance, shielding her children while enduring immense pressure. Torres’ real-life mother, the legendary Fernanda Montenegro, portrays Eunice in her later years, reuniting with Salles after his acclaimed Central Station (1998).

The film reflects a dark page in Brazilian history, but because it’s too tidy and airtight, it fails to leave much of an impression by remaining in a passive state of subtlety.

Hard Truths (2025)

Direction: Mike Leigh
Country: UK

Written and directed by the great Mike Leigh (Naked, 1993; Vera Drake, 2004), Hard Truths is an acrid contemporary drama that explores depression and bitterness within an African-American family in England. Marked by the pragmatic, unflinching realism that defines much of Leigh’s work, the film centers on Pansy Deacon (Marianne Jean-Baptiste), an unsympathetic, deeply unhappy woman whose life is weighed down by trauma, extreme control, antagonism, and emotional isolation. Lonely, exhausted, and fearful, she makes life unbearable for her hardworking husband, Curtley (David Webber), and their indolent 22-year-old son, Moses (Tuwaine Barrett). The only person who can tolerate Pansy’s abrasive nature is her sister, Chantelle (Michele Austin).

Reuniting with Jean-Baptiste 28 years after Secrets & Lies—Leigh’s Palme d’Or-winning drama—the director presents a toxic home environment with no easy resolution. It’s an intense, at times overwhelming experience, more humiliating than humorous, and grappling with Leigh’s recurring theme: the sheer difficulty of living. Emotional suffocation, unrelenting tension, and pervasive sadness dominate the atmosphere, yet if ever a performance could redeem such bleakness, it is Jean-Baptiste’s.

At times, while carrying his love-it-or-hate-it penchant for directness, Leigh risks alienating the audience from his intent. However, he ensures that every emotional wound is laid bare with sharp clarity, granting his actors the freedom to improvise in a way that heightens the film’s authenticity. The good part is that he’s not afraid to show the ugliest moments of life, doing it without passing judgment.

Nickel Boys (2024)

Direction: RaMell Ross
Country: USA

Based on Colson Whitehead’s 2019 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, Nickel Boys, is a poignant historical drama directed and co-written by RaMell Ross in his narrative feature debut. The film follows two young Black men struggling to survive the brutal realities of a Florida reformatory school in the 1960s. Inspired by the real-life Nickel Academy—a segregationist institution notorious for its systemic abuse—the story unfolds with a raw, unflinching perspective. 

Presented from a first-person point of view, this tough-minded film thrives on exquisitely composed imagery that both stimulates the senses and piques curiosity. Ross employs a distinct filmmaking intensity, one that encourages viewers not just to watch, but to observe and feel deeply. Echoing the works of Terrence Malick, Charles Burnett, and Barry Jenkins, he approaches youth incarceration with a fiercely personal and devastating lens. 

Not being an easy watch, Nickel Boys offers an impressionistic view of a tragic experience, covering predictable ground with an admirable sense of artistry and a fair dose of sincerity.

A Complete Unknown (2024)

Direction: James Mangold
Country: USA 

James Mangold’s biographical drama A Complete Unknown delves into the early rise of American singer-songwriter Bob Dylan, capturing the transformative years between 1961 and 1966. This pivotal period in Dylan’s ever-evolving career sees him transition from a struggling nomad to a folk hero and ultimately to a groundbreaking rock icon. Co-written by Mangold and Joe Cocks, the film is based on Dylan Goes Electric! by musician and music journalist Elijah Wald. 

French actor Thimothee Chalamet skillfully slips into the shoes of the genius, transmitting Dylan’s spirit in his twenties and conveying not only his elusive personality but also his enigmatic charm. Singing, playing guitar, and embodying the artist’s restless spirit, his portrayal borders on perfection. 

The film traces Dylan’s meteoric rise, his tumultuous relationships with Suze Rotolo (Elle Fanning) and folk singer Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), and the seismic shockwaves of his controversial Newport Folk Festival performance, where he defied expectations by picking up an electric guitar. This moment, a turning point in his career, signified his determination to forge his own path beyond the confines of traditional folk music.

Mangold and cinematographer Phedon Papamichael, a frequent collaborator since 2003, vividly reconstruct the atmosphere of New York’s Greenwich Village in the 1960s, painting a visually rich and immersive portrait of the era. There is careful craftsmanship in Mangold’s direction—nothing feels cheap or inauthentic. Having already demonstrated his prowess in biopics with Walk the Line (about country-folk and rockabilly singer Johnny Cash) and Ford vs. Ferrari, he ensures that the film not only tells Dylan’s story but also reflects the broader political and cultural influence of American folk music at the time. 

What sets A Complete Unknown apart is its deep admiration and respect for both Dylan and the artists who surrounded him. The dry, academic biography that many might have feared turned out a rich and fascinating work. Not a moment is wasted in a film that runs fluidly, with historical significance.

Sing Sing (2025)

Direction: Greg Kwedar
Country: USA

Sing Sing tells the story of Divine G (Colman Domingo), an inmate at the infamous high-security prison who finds solace and purpose in a theater program while serving time for a crime he didn’t commit. Inspired by true events, the film is directed by Greg Kwedar (Transpecos, 2016; Jockey, 2021), who once again collaborates with Clint Bentley on the script. Notably, several former prisoners who benefited from this artistic rehabilitation program appear in the cast, adding an extra layer of authenticity.

Sometimes heavy-handed, sometimes surprisingly fluid, the documentary-like drama is carried by Domingo, who portrays a man reclaiming a fragment of his lost humanity by daring to dream of a new life. Shot primarily with a shoulder camera, the film favors close-ups, capturing expressions steeped in regret and pain. Presented without artifice, Sing Sing follows a slow-burning script in which characters gradually reveal themselves—though the emotional impact doesn’t always land as powerfully as intended. 

A sort of Dead Poets Society within Shawshank, the film’s message of hope and friendship is intertwined with a stripped-down, minimalist theatricality that sometimes borders on the academic. While not particularly surprising in its execution, Sing Sing maintains a genuine human tone, packed with disillusion, frustration, and hope. It’s a serious work, though one that may be challenging to engage with as pure entertainment.

Exhibiting Forgiveness (2024)

Direction: Titus Kaphar
Country: USA

Exhibiting Forgiveness marks the directorial feature film debut of Titus Kaphar, an American contemporary painter who draws from his own life, deconstructing personal experiences to craft a thoughtful, if imperfect, drama. The film stars André Holland as Tarell, a talented Black painter haunted by the past. His beloved mother, Joyce (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor), is terminally ill, and urges him to reconcile with and forgive his estranged father, La’Ron (John Earl Jelks), a former drug addict whose neglect and cruelty made Tarell’s childhood a nightmare. Together, father and son grapple with the painful truth that forgetting is often harder than forgiving.

With family trauma at its core, the film is ultimately about healing and finding a path forward. While occasionally tentative, it remains an honest and heartfelt melodrama that flickers with emotional depth, even if it never fully ignites. It is a small film in the best sense—intimate, personal, and rooted in the everyday struggles of ordinary people. However, the slow, restrained performances sometimes add more mannerism than poetry to this pursuit of happiness.

Kaphar’s screenplay, not being thin, is on the verge of collapsing on several occasions, leaving emotions in an embryonic state. However, a simmering tension is maintained, and the actors ultimately hold it together. Exhibiting Forgiveness is a movie at odds with itself, but that internal struggle is also its greatest strength.

Queer (2024)

Direction: Luca Guadagnino
Country: USA

Queer is an unimaginative adaptation of William S. Burrough’s 1985 novella, tracing the peculiar journey of his literary alter ego. In 1950s Mexico City, William Lee (Daniel Craig), an American expat in his late forties, leads a solitary life amidst a small American community. However, the arrival in town of Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey), a charming young student recently discharged from the U.S. Navy, stirs William into finally establishing a meaningful connection with someone. Directed by Luca Guadagnino (Call Me By Your Name, 2017; Suspiria, 2018; Challengers, 2024), with a screenplay by Justin Kuritzkes, the film focuses on a strong character but fails to explore his emotional complexities. 

The film is built on an uneven collection of episodes and intensities that never takes us anywhere despite a feverish final act. The director is true to form, yet the film’s sterile, overly polished approach never truly engages the heart or mind. The climactic descent into spiritual reckoning feels heavy-handed, offering no real payoff.

Craig delivers an impressive performance portraying a man of self-sufficiency and excesses, but Guadagino's approach bothered me as he unoriginally tries to shape the couple’s bonding as revelatory. There’s no need for wider social and cultural context, but in terms of romance, emotions struggle to pop up. The film’s strongest assets are its evocative cinematography by Sayombhu Mukdeeprom—whose lighting draws inspiration from Flemish painters—and a powerful contemporary soundtrack featuring Nirvana, Prince, and Sinéad O’Connor. However, these flourishes aren’t enough to elevate an otherwise hollow experience.

The Girl With the Needle (2025)

Direction: Magnus von Horn 
Country: Denmark / Poland / Sweden

The Girl With the Needle is a stark and unflinching period drama, imbued with immense emotional heft. It marks another impressive achievement from acclaimed Swedish filmmaker Magnus von Horn (The Here After, 2015; Sweat, 2020), in his first venture into black-and-white cinema. Inspired by Denmark’s most notorious criminal case—the life of serial killer Dagmar Overbye, who murdered 25 infants—the screenplay, co-written with Line Langebek Knudsen, deliberately avoids a direct biopic. Instead, they introduce Karoline, a fictional young factory worker who becomes pregnant and, through her fateful encounters with the criminal, reflects society’s perception of women in her position. 

The film unfolds with haunting beauty, capturing the profound isolation of its protagonist through restrained yet deeply affecting storytelling. Von Horn constructs a chilling, nightmarish world where loss and despair seep into every frame, leaving little room for hope. His approach, evocative of classic European arthouse cinema, is both subtly exasperating and hypnotically compelling.

The Girl With the Needle is raw, unrelenting, and unforgettable—its emotional and visual impact heightened by masterful staging and an ever-present sense of suffocating tension. Lushly photographed in monochrome, the film is elevated by outstanding performances from Vic Carmen Sonne and Trine Dyrholm, whose portrayals add to its harrowing intensity.

The Brutalist (2025)

Direction: Brady Corbet
Country: USA

The Brutalist, the fourth feature from Brady Corbet, co-written with his wife Mona Fastvold, is a riveting epic drama starring Adrien Brody, Guy Pearce, and Felicity Jones. The film’s title references both the stark architectural style that emerged in the 1950s—marked by raw materials like concrete and brick—and the underlying brutality of human nature. 

At its core, it tells the story of László Toth (Brody), a visionary Hungarian architect who escapes war-ravaged Europe to rebuild his life in America after surviving the concentration camps. His dreams take shape when wealthy tycoon Harrison Van Buren (Pearce) recognizes his talent and commissions him for an ambitious project. However, the opportunity comes at a steep cost, forcing László to navigate a world of power, ambition, and disillusionment.

Embracing a style that evokes the cinema of Paul Thomas Anderson and Orson Welles, The Brutalist explores the intersection of the immigrant experience and the artist’s journey, as well as the corrosive effects of human dominance. Over its sweeping 3-hour-and-35-minute runtime, the film presents both breathtaking visuals and an unflinching portrayal of an artist’s struggle, leaving the viewer bracingly unsettled.

The Brutalist is breathtakingly cruel and merciless in its essence, served by masterful performances, a punchy dialogue, and bravura staging. As a film of remarkable dramatic and formal magnitude, the more you think about it, the better and more qualified the film seems. A monumental work that firmly establishes itself as an instant classic.
Brody, an actor in state of grace, embraced another tailor-made role for him, making The Brutalist one of the standout films of the year.

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.