La Chimera (2024)

Direction: Alice Rohrwacher
Country: Italy

Alice Rohrwacher’s films, notably Happy as Lazaro (2018) and The Wonders (2014), captivated audiences with their intriguing narratives. La Chimera, her fourth feature, stands out as a haunting archeological fable set in Tuscany during the 1980s. Rather than relying on suspense, Rohrwacher favors ambiance, crafting a story that delves into a painful past, an inebriated present, and an uncertain future. 

The story revolves around Arthur (Josh O’Connor), a nearly-spectral English wanderer with a supernatural ability to locate Etruscan artifacts in tombs and underground chambers dating back over 2000 years. Recently released from jail for smuggling these artifacts, Arthur, reluctantly rejoins his gang of “tomb diggers” while awaiting the return of his departed love, Beniadina. He also reconnects with Benidiana’s welcoming mother, Flora (Isabella Rossellini), and gets involved with her Brazilian student/maid, Italia (Carol Duarte), a surreptitious mother of two. 

When at its sharpest, Rohrwacher’s script exudes lyricism in its bendable trajectory, casting a spell on viewers. However, the comedic elements are overshadowed by the emotional crisis of an unpredictable, alienated protagonist with a strong inclination for sloppiness. Love and death are squeezed into an eccentric cinematic pot that, in a sense, harkens back to classics from Pasolini, Scola, Fellini, and Cocteau. Some nostalgic moments are magical and profound in a film full of nudges and nuance. This is simultaneously a fascinating character study, a poignant drama edited with breaks of slapstick humor, and an acute piece of psychological realism that connects the living and the dead.

Even with some unnecessary lengths, La Chimera provides a singular experience in a kind-hearted fashion that allows the movie to resonate with more warmth than what was initially thought. O’Connor delivers an engrossing performance, complemented by Duarte and Rossellini, who are a pleasure to watch.

Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell (2024)

Direction: Thien An Pham
Country: Vietnam

Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell, the debut feature film by Vietnamese writer-director Thien An Pham, is a lethargically narrated drama with an abstruse title and extended duration. It takes some time to adjust to the director’s contemplative gaze, framed with a static camera and faintly stirred by spiritual consciousness and casual dialogue.

This journey of self-discovery follows Thien (Le Phong Vu), a Saigon-based man who returns to his rural Vietnamese village following the tragic death of his sister-in-law in a motorcycle accident. Assuming temporary guardianship of his 5-year-old nephew, Dao (Nguyen Thinh), Thien embarks on a solitary road trip in search of his estranged older brother, a former seminarian who abruptly abandoned his marriage. During this time, he also reconnects with Thao (Nguyen Thi Truc Quynh), a former flame who has since become a nun and teacher. 

While some viewers may desire a quicker pace and more dynamism in the process, the film's simplicity proves hypnotic, drawing parallels to the works of directors like Tsai Ming Liang, Apichatpong Weerasethakul, and Jia Zhang Ke. Pham skillfully navigates between dreamlike sequences and grounded realism, exploring the complexities of the human soul in all its conflicted feelings and persistent memories.

Ultimately exhausting, this pale tale releases tension with a conclusion that leaves us suspended in reflection. Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell is a genre unto itself, demanding patience and introspection without veering into complete abstraction. Although strangely immersing, not everyone will be invested in the questions it poses.

Spaceman (2024)

Direction: Johan Renck
Country: USA

Adam Sandler takes on the role of a solitary Czech astronaut in Spaceman, tasked with a research mission to the edge of the solar system to investigate a mysterious interstellar cloud. As he spends six months isolated in his ship, he becomes increasingly anxious about the possibility of his pregnant wife, Lenka (Carey Mulligan), leaving him. Amidst this emotional turmoil, he encounters an intelligent ancestral creature—a giant space spider—that helps him confront his selfishness and grapple with feelings of loneliness, guilt, and regret. 

Based on Jaroslav Kalfar's novel Spaceman of Bohemia, the film adaptation, helmed by Chernobyl’s director Johan Renck and written by Colby Day, fails to delve beyond the obvious, offering a forgettable space journey masquerading as a couple’s therapy. Despite attempting to create impact with an ambiguous open ending, the film ultimately falls short, missing the mark on its potential for depth and exploration.

One of the film’s most dispiriting aspects is the mediocre character development and absence of tension. Neither shaping as a real sci-fi adventure nor grounding itself in a compelling romantic drama, Spaceman falls into a middling territory, promising more than it deliveries. Its slow narrative pace, coupled with verbose sequences that prioritize cerebral musings over genuine insight, results in a film that struggles to maintain logical coherence and foster empathy. It’s a half-interesting, half-baked illustration weighed down by a listless melancholy that sedates more than inspires.

The Listener (2024)

Direction: Steve Buscemi
Country: USA

The first directorial effort from Steve Buscemi in 15 years, The Listener, centers on a helpline volunteer named Beth (Tessa Thompson, who also produced). Her soothing voice seeks to comfort people grappling with various issues in their lives such as loneliness, frustration, depression, boredom, rejection, guilt, and even mental illness. It’s a one-actor movie with a simple narrative that unfolds over the course of a single nightshift during the Covid pandemic, a time when the demand for telephone counseling services increased massively.

Beth experiences different feelings with each caller. Sometimes she gets interested in a certain topic, or she might feel a chilly sense of discomfort when her interlocutor becomes aggressive. Moved by the hope she puts in the next call, Beth is capable of relating deeply with a person to the point of opening up about her own life and traumas. Each segment offers a bit of a fractured American society, touching on issues like medical insurance, guns, corrupt systems, war trauma, and mental illness. This juxtaposes the tranquility of the home setting with the tension of the conversation. 

Buscemi’s focused direction maintains the same tonal palette throughout, but these segments are engaging enough to keep you invested. However, The Listener won't be a film we'll remember a year from now. This model of low-budget filmmaking is not a compulsive watch like The Guilty (2018), a pure thrilling experience, but is rather enveloped by a slightly tense melancholy that reveals more about this caring young woman. You'd need a flinty heart to ignore her valuable work here, and Thompson carries the film on her shoulders with candidness and conviction.

Origin (2024)

Direction: Ava DuVernay
Country: USA

Directed by Ava DuVernay, known for Selma (2014) and 13th (2016), Origin is a wobbly biographical drama based on Isabel Wilkerson’s Pulitzer Prize-winning book Caste: the Origins of our Discontents, published in 2020. 

Grappling with family loss, Isabel (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor) decides to spend more time researching the cultural divides of caste and racism across different continents, the topic of her new book. She travels to Germany and India to better understand the Nazi regime and the Dalit situation, respectively. Comparisons with segregation in the United States are analyzed. 

Despite noble intentions, this dramatization crumbles due to a disjointed, bumpy narrative. Rigid in the moves and broken in structure, Origin is turned into a film-lecture, whose content and ideas don’t really gel on the screen. More interested in a didactic presentation and in defending its point of view than being compelling, the film soon becomes erratic, displaying more heart than mind. Pathos and sentimentality are often potentiated by Kris Bowers’ mellow musical score. 

The message DuVernay aims to convey doesn’t come across clearly, and the results instead of reaching any state of maturation, feel merely superficial. It’s surprising how tame the film is, taking into account its weighty subject matter. Origin may be informative in some aspects but not to the point of making us remember it as a powerful statement.

Perfect Days (2023)

Direction: Wim Wenders
Country: Japan / Germany

Acclaimed German director Wim Wenders (Alice in the Cities, 1974; Wings of Desire, 1987; Paris Texas, 1984) returns to Japan - where he filmed Tokyo-Ga nearly 40 years ago - to shoot Perfect Days, a simple and endearing tale co-written with screenwriter Takuma Takasaki. Drawing inspiration from Ozu's filmmaking style, Wenders crafts a narrative characterized by nuanced circularity and a gentle pulse, offering a film that soothes the soul rather than warping the brain.

Koji Yakusho portrays Hirayama, a quiet and hardworking public toilet cleaner residing alone in Tokyo. Despite his solitary lifestyle, he finds joy in nature, photography, literature, and ‘70s rock music, cherishing the beauty in life’s little details. With a sweet shade of detachment from the real world, the humble Hirayama transmits the pure bliss of being thankful for everything he has, searching for beauty in every aspect of his daily routine. However, his tranquil existence is disrupted when his estranged niece, Niko (Arisa Nakano), unexpectedly pays him a visit, coinciding with tensions arising from his young assistant, Takashi (Tokio Emoto), who has fallen in love.

Yakusho delivers a pitch-perfect performance, carrying the weight of the narrative with ease, while Wenders approaches the story with a sense of politeness, eschewing flashy theatrics. Undeniably, the film's power lies in its restraint, opting for hopefulness over heartbreak and exuding a strange yet beautiful gentleness of spirit. Perfect Days unfolds with airy grace and poetic substance, masterfully composed in a minor key that never feels repetitive or aggressive in its narrative cycle. Not seeking to impress you, this amply generous and pure cinematic gesture will probably touch you in the heart.

The Zone of Interest (2023)

Direction: Jonathan Glazer
Country: UK / other

In The Zone of Interest, British filmmaker Jonathan Glazer, known for Birth (2004) and Under the Skin (2013), delivers his finest film to date, a loose adaptation of Martin Amis' novel that rightfully earns the accolade of Best International Feature Film at the Oscars. This visually arresting and original work centers around the diligent Auschwitz commandant Rudolf Hoss (Christian Friedel) and his wife, Hedwig (Sandra Hüller), who reside in their idyllic dream house adjacent to the concentration camp. Shot on location, predominantly with natural light, the film masterfully juxtaposes the serene family life of the couple with the harrowing reality of genocidal atrocities occurring just beyond their property fence.

The characters’ examination is done patiently and incisively within a narrative that doesn’t rely on explicitness to convey its message. The film’s opening scenes are evocative of Jean Renoir’s bucolic A Day in Country, only to swiftly confront the audience with a different reality: the banality of evil. This is done with such a discretion it becomes creepy. There’s family and well-founded dreams on one side, and then selfishness, privilege, and indifference on the other.

Polish cinematographer Lukasz Zal, who previously worked with Pawel Pawlikowski in Ida (2013) and Cold War (2018), contributes to the film’s visual allure with exquisite compositional finesse and meticulous attention to detail. His framing effectively captures the narrative's haunting atmosphere, punctuated by dreamy sequences in negative black and white that offer glimpses of compassion amidst the darkness. Despite these brief moments, it’s all very disturbing and fiercely unsentimental. 

The Zone of Interest isn't your high-octane WWII thriller, emerging instead as a spellbinding and unsettling meditation on personal dreams and silent crimes. It’s a powerful and memorable affair that, offering a different perspective of the Holocaust, may feel oppressive despite the absence of explicit violence. Benefitting from impressive performances by the pair of German actors, Glazer portrays this drama with the dazzling smoothness of a movie-making natural.

The Iron Claw (2024)

Direction: Sean Durkin
Country: USA

Having savored Sean Durkin’s previous directorial works - Martha Marcy May Marlene (2011) and The Nest (2020) - I eagerly anticipated The Iron Claw, his third feature based on a real story about a family of wrestlers. However, it proved to be a significant disappointment. Despite the weighty events it attempts to chronicle, the film's tone feels surprisingly light, resulting in a dismal execution that casts a shadow over its potential.

This American tragedy, transformed into a ludicrous pastiche, follows the inseparable Von Erich brothers, driven to wrestling stardom by their tyrannical and negligent father. While they left their mark on professional wrestling in the early '80s, the film questions the price paid for success. 

The Iron Claw compares to wrestling in the way that it’s all pose and artifice but no brains or integrity. In addition to overlong, the film lacks emotion at every turn, and the acting never impressed - Jeremy Allen White being the exception. 

Making matters worse, Durkin’s loss of direction in the sentimental last part of the film sinks the narrative deeper. Regretfully, The Iron Claw emerges as a slippery and inaccurate sports drama, failing to make a lasting impact. 

Club Zero (2024)

Direction: Jessica Hausner
Country: Austria / other

Austrian helmer Jessica Hausner, who impressed us with a religion-themed arthouse drama called Lourdes (2009), returns with Club Zero, a dark fable hinged on a one-person cult promoting autophagy at a private boarding school. Co-written by Hausner and Géraldine Bajard, the film follows Miss Novak (Mia Wasikowska), a rigorous teacher turned guru, as she introduces a dangerous concept to emotionally vulnerable students, touching on themes of faith, manipulation, willpower, and societal pressures. Other inherent topics include faulty parenthood and unsupervised classes and methods. 

While the material holds potential, the film, even with something ominous churning under the surface at all times, falls short of expectations. Built with minimalistic composed settings, stiff arthouse postures, and bitter tones, Club Zero misses opportunities to take us to more terrifying territory, preferring instead a quiet defiance that feels flat in the end. 

Hausner demonstrates a morbid precision in her exploration of contemporary neuroses, and yet, the picture rests in a muzzy middle where observation and absurdity are practically indistinguishable. Club Zero is a failure, but an intriguing one.

The Animal Kingdom (2023)

Direction: Thomas Cailley
Country: France

French director Thomas Cailley, known for Love at First Fight (2014), directs and co-writes his sophomore feature, The Animal Kingdom, a hybrid sci-fi drama that balances pitch-perfect detail with a poignant sense of loss and restlessness. This Kafkaesque fable delves into themes of human-animal mutations, exclusion, and father-son relationships with tremendous ambition, resulting in a film that may strike some viewers as poetic while others may find it irrational and far-fetched.

The story follows François (Romain Duris) and his 16-year-old son, Emile (Paul Kircher), who have recently lost their wife and mother, respectively, due to an inexplicable phenomenon that gradually transforms humans into animals. Matters escalate when Emile begins to undergo the same transformation. The premise is imaginative and intriguingly uncanny, yet the execution maintains a palpable connection to reality. 

Cailley demonstrates audacity in both style and form, crafting a controlled staging that delves into themes of unethical discrimination and the mysterious ties between humanity and nature. The film serves as a metaphorically adjusted reflection of contemporary society, presenting a vital and sometimes violent friction between reality and fiction. The Oscar-caliber makeup used to portray the transformed characters, along with the spellbinding forests and landscapes of the Landes de Gascogne, contribute to a visually stunning experience.
While The Animal Kingdom may not achieve perfection in all its aspects, it carries feverish delicacy and magnetic charisma.

Fallen Leaves (2023)

Direction: Aki Kaurismaki
Country: Finland

Aki Kaurismaki’s Fallen Leaves, titled after the original French song "Les Feuilles Mortes" composed by Kosma/Prévert, is an affecting art house romantic comedy and social reflection that resonates as a cry from the heart, ultimately radiating more warmth than desolation. With his unmistakable style, Kaurismaki strikes a wonderful tonal balance, infusing the narrative with deadpan humor, poignancy, and hope, offering an understated yet deeply affecting piece of amusement for an autumnal afternoon. Fallen Leaves can be viewed as the lost fourth installment in Kaurismaki’s proletariat trilogy, following Shadows in Paradise (1986), Ariel (1988), and The Match Factory Girl (1990).

At the heart of the story are two loners: Ansa (Alma Pöysti), a hard-working supermarket employee disturbed by war news on the radio and yearning for change in her daily routine, and Holappa (Jussi Vatanen), a depressed metalworker who appreciates solitude, vibrates with American rock n’ roll, and struggles with alcoholism. Their chance encounter at a local karaoke bar sparks an immediate attraction, but their differences become apparent as Ansa refuses to live with a drunk, while he rejects any form of authority. As they navigate obstacles and setbacks, fate seems to continually postpone their chance at happiness.

Grounded in realism without descending into sordidness, the film captures with honest eye a loving couple in their simple, everyday setting. There’s an empathetic embrace of retro and kitsch aesthetics, underscored by tragic songs and a cinematography as clear as crystal. The actors effortlessly embody their characters’ quirks with authenticity. Stripped of romantic idealism, love in Fallen Leaves is depicted as introspective, deep, and gentle - a plea for compassion and understanding that feels timeless. 

Kaurismaki emphasizes human resilience and the value of love with his filmmaking gestures, in an absolutely gorgeous and hugely affirming love story. It’s one of those pure delights that’s hard to resist.

All of Us Strangers (2023)

Direction: Andrew Haigh
Country: UK

In Andrew Haigh’s latest psychological and supernatural drama, All of Us Strangers, we follow the journey of Adam (Andre Scott), a homosexual screenwriter in his forties who gets in touch with his feelings after starting a relationship with a mysterious neighbor, Harry (Paul Mescal). As their connection deepens, Adam inexplicably finds himself connecting with their late parents (Jamie Bell and Claire Foy), who tragically passed away in a car accident when he was 12. Partially filmed in the house where Haigh grew up on the outskirts of Croydon, the film, based on Taichi Yamada’s 1987 novel Strangers, carries a personal touch that adds depth to the narrative. The inclusion of a 1980s soundtrack further enhances the nostalgic atmosphere.

This beautifully understated and unique film transitions from the mundane to the otherworldly with feverish quietness, offering a poignant exploration of solitude, trauma, grief, love, and the vagaries of time. It’s a well-constructed and nuanced drama that drips with bold visual aplomb and a subtle mysticism akin to disorienting, dreamlike states.

Haigh confirms the immense filmmaking capabilities and storytelling expertise previously showcased in films such as Weekend (2011) and 45 Years (2015). All of Us Strangers lingers in the mind long after the credits roll. It haunts you, and you’ll admire its conception while searching for answers. While the film may not provide easy resolutions, its ambivalent nature and mysterious allure make for a captivating viewing experience. Indeed, it stands as something special in contemporary cinema.

About Dry Grasses (2024)

Direction: Nuri Bilge Ceylan
Country: Turkey

About Dry Grasses is the ninth feature film by acclaimed art-house Turkish director Nuri Bilge Ceylan (Once Upon a Time in Anatolia, 2011; Winter Sleep, 2014), whose signature blend of languid yet observant storytelling has earned him cult status. In this mature and quasi-philosophical wintry chamber piece, Ceylon delves into the vain hopes, fixations, and frustrations of Samet (Deniz Celiloglu), a guileful middle-aged teacher yearning to escape the isolation, suffocation, and alienation caused by working in a remote eastern Anatolian village for four years. 

With an anguishing melancholy penetrating every frame, the director crafts a skillfully complex Chekhovian fresco that disconcerts by steering the narrative into unexpected directions. The topics of aloofness and vacillation of the soul expand, coexisting with fragments of entrenched politics, cynicism, betrayal, individualism, moral considerations, cold romanticism, and lost illusions. Some of them blur the lines between good and evil. 

Ceylan, who has an unerring knack for arresting imagery, opts for austere shots, capturing the vast and desolate snowy fields and pallid grey skies with profound intensity, increasing tension. The sensitive material and harsh environment find a perfect match in his hands, translating into a disturbing yet compelling portrait of egotistic utopia.

Recondite emotional stimuli surface intermittently with lucidity in each character, often without the need for words. Ceylan exposes subtle dark spots of the human soul in a quietly meditative study that reveals the intricate intelligence of its design. While his heavy cinema and stretched-out narratives may not appeal to everyone, About Dry Grasses denotes his continued evolution in terms of staging, elasticity, and tone.

The Boys in the Boat (2023)

Direction: George Clooney
Country: USA

The Boys in the Boat, George Clooney’s ninth directorial venture - as a filmmaker, he’s known for Good Night and Good Luck (2005) and The Ides of March (2011) - is a sports biographical drama chronicling the triumphant journey of the University of Washington men's rowing team, representing the United States at the 1936 Berlin Olympics. 

The narrative follows Joe Rantz (Callum Turner), a working class-student who overcomes familial abandonment to excel as a rower. In supporting roles, Joel Edgerton and Hadley Robinson play the protagonist’s demanding rowing coach and supporting girlfriend, respectively. 

Despite its grandiose sporting achievement, the film suffers from unexceptional performances and overly formal direction, resulting in a pedestrian storytelling experience devoid of brilliance. This disappointing lack of originality, typical of formulaic biographical films, partly stems from Mark L. Smith's uninspired adaptation of Daniel James Brown’s book of the same name.

While visually polished, the film relies increasingly on melodramatic contrivances rather than exploring character depth, with Clooney sugarcoating Rantz’s predicaments without delivering the necessary emotional impact. The Boys in the Boat offers modest excitement during the competitive sports scenes but falls short in other aspects, running out of steam well before its conclusion. Viewers are left craving more than just a trivial account of the facts.

The Taste of Things (2024)

Direction: Tran Anh Hung
Country: France

Under the direction of Viatnamese-born French director Tran Anh Hung (The Scent of Green Papaya, 1993; Cyclo, 1995), Juliette Binoche and Benoit Magimel deliver stellar performances, showcasing an almost transcendental chemistry in The Taste of Things, a meticulously crafted historical romance suffused with gastronomical delights. Adapted from The Passionate Epicure by Swiss author Marcel Rouff, the film unfolds within the walls of a castle in Anjou, centering on the intimate relationship between gourmet restaurant owner Dodin Bouffant (loosely based on Anthelme Brillat-Savarin) and his cherished chef Eugénie, who serves him devotedly for two decades.

Slowly cooked, this bittersweet cinematic offering invites moments of profound empathy through its well-drawn characters. Delicate, understated, and occasionally poignant, each scene is captured with constant care and refinement, resembling colorful, realistic paintings. The dishes  tantalize the palate but, despite the passion of cooking and love, the film is laid-back, occasionally feeling overly staged and lacking intrigue, risking monotony across its 134-minute duration. However, Hung balances these potential shortcomings with narrative simplicity and visual splendor.

The Taste of Things may not move mountains, but all in there is grace and melancholic bliss, making it a sensory experience worth savoring.

Monster (2023)

Direction: Hirokazu Koreeda
Country: Japan 

Hirokazu Koreeda (Nobody Knows, 2004; Shoplifters, 2018), an observant Japanese cineast with extraordinary capabilities, confirms his talent as an explorer of the intimate, capturing adolescence, friendship, and family with incisive intelligence. Fascinating in its maturity and storytelling, Monster is a fascinating and mature storytelling experience that provides an involving and exhilarating journey, shaking the audience by surprise and offering a nuanced understanding of reality.

The meticulously constructed tale, written by Yuji Sakamoto (the first not written by Koreeda since his 1995 debut feature Maborosi), revolves around characters such as an overprotective single mother (Sakura Ando) who refuses to hold back emotions, her only son (Soya Kurokawa) who starts acting strangely erratic, his lonely classmate (Hinata Hiiragi) stigmatized by an alcoholic father, and a young teacher (Eita Nagayama) accused of misconduct. The narrative also involves an ineffectual school principal (Yuko Tanaka) deeply affected by a tragic accident. 

This infinitely touching moody tale unfolds with some unfathomable secrets and torments that progressively dilute into transparency. At first very sad in the disconsolate aura that underpins it, then very strange and bemusing, and suddenly very inspiring. In truth, every dose of discomfort will seep into your skin but, if you’re an optimistic, don’t get desperate because Koreeda pulls a rabbit out of the hat with magical refinement.

The film shapes as a provocative, thoughtful, sometimes minimalist dramatic fresco, deliberately illusive in structure and narrative. Nothing is taken for granted, and, all of a sudden, darkness can turn into light when we’re given a different perspective. Koreeda’s masterful control and the compelling performances of a multigenerational ensemble cast elevate the emotions. The late master composer Ryuichi Sakamoto's piano-driven score further intensifies the experience. Monster stands as a product of compelling filmmaking.

Io Capitano (2023)

Direction: Matteo Garrone
Country: Italy / Belgium/ France

Io Capitano is a breathtaking migrant odyssey directed and co-written by Matteo Garrone, renowned for works such as Gomorrah (2008) and Dogman (2018). The film, devoid of cynicism and cheap sentimentality, follows the perilous journey of two 16-year-old Senegalese boys who decide to leave Dakar for Europe. Their journey, full of surprises and strong emotions, exposes the harsh realities of racism, exploitation, and inhumanity, while also providing a lesson in courage, humility, and humanism. 

Garrone navigates new territory with a firm hand, shedding light on the tenebrous predicaments associated with migration and raising awareness of human rights violations. Beyond its value as a fictional tale, Io Capitano serves as a profound statement on the challenges faced by migrants. 

The cinematography by Paolo Carnera captures vast expanses of desert and ocean, adding to the film's visual appeal, while newcomer actor Seydou Sarr, who is like a shinning beam of light in a dark place, delivers a credible performance, conveying innocence and affability. Even though the script may not reach great majesty, Io Capitano remains an indispensable movie about a disturbing global issue with no immediate solution at sight. Its path evokes both touching and shocking emotions simultaneously.

Eileen (2023)

Direction: William Oldroyd
Country: USA

Directed by William Oldroyd (Lady Macbeth, 2016), Eileen is an adaptation of Ottessa Moshfegh’s debut novel of the same name, with a screenplay by Moshfegh herself and Luke Goebel. It’s a soggy slow burn depicted with formal pomp and impressive cinematography that, gradually, goes from intriguing to banal.

The plot follows Eileen (Thomasin McKenzie), a bored and lonely young woman who lives with her alcoholic father (Shea Whigham), a troubled ex-cop, and works in a juvenile detention facility as an assistant. Her routine takes a strange turn when Rebecca (Anne Hathaway), a confident psychologist and graduated from Harvard, arrives at New England, bringing some fantasy into her life but also chaos. Both women share a special interest in Lee Polk (Sam Nivola), a kid who mysteriously stabbed his father to death in his sleep. 

Eileen is better characterized than Rebecca, who appears more enigmatic, and the flatness of the story is intermittently interrupted by the former’s grace. However, as a noir psychological thriller, the film fails to raise its staging to exceptional heights, remaining more or less nailed to the ground. It’s all done mechanically, without the brilliance that would have captivated the audience. 

Sensuality, desire, and depressive insanity are predominant factors in a story that recites all the commonplaces of the genre without possessing the sophistication of its models. Despite incorporating some twists that force changes in direction, Eileen falls short of being exciting, concluding with a rushed ending that lacks surprise or shock. What remains is just the idea of something uncomfortably bland.

How to Have Sex (2023)

Direction: Molly Manning Walker
Country: UK / Greece

In this conventional coming-of-age drama film, written and directed by debutant English filmmaker Molly Manning Walker, the narrative subtly questions consent and explores the emptiness of youths rushing to embrace adulthood. The film delves into sexual and emotional disillusion, unreliable friendships, and ultimately hope. It starts as a lascivious, energetic romp with quick editing but evolves into a hard-nosed, somewhat schematized summer adventure before the too easy ending. 

The plot revolves around three British friends - Tara (Mia McKenna-Bruce), Em (Enva Lewis), and Skye (Lara Peake) - who embarks on a trip to a party resort in Malia, located on the Greek island of Crete, with the intention of having fun. Tara, in particular, feels the societal pressure of still being a virgin, and the film explores how the 'dream' surrounding a first sexual experience often falls short of expectations.

While the initial segment may not be particularly surprising, the film gains more depth as the real problem emerges, exposing those gray areas associated with the topic with realistic perception. What you thought would happen, does... with no less traumatizing nuance that, for moments, takes the form of a sun-and-sea-kissed nightmare. Despite moments where the plot feels like a rough draft, the tension simmering beneath the surface is undeniable. The way the 16-year-old protagonist is tempted and entrapped is portrayed with authenticity, and McKenna-Bruce capably conveys the emotional tumult associated with such a transformative experience.

All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt (2023)

Direction: Raven Jackson
Country: USA 

Counting on Barry Jenkins, the director of Moonlight (2016) and If Beale Street Could Talk (2018), as a producer, All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt marks the directorial debut of Raven Jackson, a poet and photographer from Tennessee. The film is a contemplative drama that serves as a memoir spanning 50 years, recounting the story of Mackenzie, a Black teenage girl who grapples with an unexpected pregnancy in Mississippi. 

The film’s interesting premise deteriorates due to a sluggish pace, monotonous conception, and sparse dialogue. The floating structure and dreamy aura contribute to a sense of sadness, but they may hinder a deeper exploration of the elements at play, and the long shots and quietness dip the film in exasperation. It’s an overlong experience that tests the audience's patience while struggling to make a lasting emotional impact.

Even radiating intimacy at times, All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt fails to validate a lasting claim on the heart. The narrative, relying heavily on images rather than words, could be told in ten minutes. As a result, there’s simply not enough here to really engage.