Jessica Hausner’s sci-fi yarn about plants that emit happy drugs doesn’t branch out as widely as one would like.
Céline Sciamma’s queer period romance is an intimate visual feast, filled with uncanny empathy and admirable aesthetics.
As self-reflective as it is starkly modernist, Pedro Almodóvar’s latest is navel gazing at its finest.
Lee Won-Tae piles on the cheese in this pulpy gangster thriller that rewards mightily, if you’re in the right mood.
Larisa Sadilova’s probing drama highlights small-town Russian culture through an opaque lens.
It takes some doing to make a movie about a talking fridge boring, but by gum, Benoît Forgeard’s messy comedy manages to pull it off.
Mati Diop’s expansion of her documentary short is a scifi-tinged genre experiment that admirably swings for the fences, even if it doesn’t land with complete success.
Following up I, Daniel Blake with another grim drama about English poverty, Ken Loach spits venom about the dark side of capitalism to mixed results.
Arnaud Desplechin shifts gears with an all-too-straightforward cop drama mired in cliche.
The off-kilter French-Canadian auteur returns with a resonant if overlong drama that ends just a bit too messily.