Thunderbolts (2025)

Direction: Jake Schreier
Country: USA

Thunderbolts*, the 36th installment in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, assembles a group of disillusioned misfits—most of them tired of cleanup duty. Among them are Yelena Belova, her father Alexei Shostakov (Red Guardian), John Walker (Steve Rogers’ controversial successor as Captain America), Ava Starr (Ghost), Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier), and the fragile, amnesiac Bob Reynolds, who unexpectedly emerges as a serious threat. Together, they must navigate the hidden agenda of CIA Director Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus, reprising her role from Black Widow and Black Panther: Wakanda Forever), whose office is now under scrutiny.

Directed by Jake Schreier (Robot & Frank, 2015), the film offers its strong cast opportunities to shine. However, the script—penned by Marvel regular Eric Pearson (Thor: Ragnarok, 2017; Black Widow, 2021) and Joanna Calo (The Bear)—lacks imaginative spark. This is a different kind of Marvel entry, clearly aimed at attracting a fresh audience. The result is an imperfect yet visually and tonally consistent work—where not everything is fixed, but everything feels slightly patched up. Is it fun? Yeah, sort of. But still not especially memorable.

F1: The Movie (2025)

Direction: Joseph Kosinski
Country: USA 

Directed by Joseph Kosinski (Oblivion, 2013; Top Gun: Maverick, 2022) from a screenplay by Ehren Kruger, and co-produced by Jerry Bruckheimer, British F1 pilot Lewis Hamilton, and Brad Pitt—who stars as fictional pilot Sonny Hayes—F1: The Movie blends thrilling races, bland romance, overdramatic celebrations, and crooked deals. 

There’s nothing particularly new or noteworthy in this ultra-formulaic car action flick that goes nowhere fast. We follow fearless yet reckless veteran driver Sonny Hayes (Pitt), a gambling addict, as he joins a nearly bankrupt team at the invitation of owner and former teammate Ruben Cervantes (Javier Bardem). Sonny quickly challenges everyone—“Who’s fighting? I’m racing!”—including his new teammate, the prodigiously talented rookie Joshua Pearce (Damson Idris), who becomes his chief rival.

While some racing scenes do deliver the adrenaline, the narrative rarely hits top gear, as the script struggles to make its dramatic beats land. This monstrous commercial blockbuster has a vigorous start, ultimately running out of gas and disintegrating into uneven pieces. The soundtrack by Hans Zimmer—a combination of classical and electronic elements—didn’t convince, contributing to the film’s general stodginess.

The Shrouds (2025)

Direction: David Cronenberg
Country: USA 

David Cronenberg wrote The Shrouds in response to the death of his wife in 2017. Despite this deeply personal origin, the film’s uninspired delirium begins with a promisingly tense atmosphere only to unravel into something muddled and ultimately hollow. The Canadian filmmaker returns to his signature obsessions—mutilation fused with macabre romanticism, fixation on death and the body, espionage, and futuristic technology. eXistenZ (1999) and Crash (1996) naturally come to mind, yet this time the concoction feels undercooked, lacking soul, coherence, and genuine emotional weight.

The plot follows an inconsolable corpse voyeur (Vincent Cassel, in his third collaboration with Cronenberg) who harbors a disturbing fascination with his late wife’s body and cemeteries. However, the story quickly gets bogged down in contrived, exhausting dialogue and stilted staging. Delivered at a glacial pace, the bland narrative nearly lulled me to sleep. Adding to the confusion is the film’s tech subplot, clouded by mysterious hackers and vague conspiracy theories involving Chinese and Russian corporations.

Whatever suspense the film tries to build evaporates almost instantly. What a futile and misguided movie this is! - certainly one of Cronenberg’s biggest flops to date. At 82, one has to wonder if Cronenberg has lost his touch—both in direction and in his ability to truly engage the viewer, as mortuary enigma mutates into incoherent drivel.

Materialists (2025)

Direction: Celine Song
Country: USA

Materialists, the sophomore feature from Canadian helmer Celine Song, is a romantic excursion where love can be negotiated like a business deal. Not as irresistible as Song’s debut Past Lives (2023) and perhaps a bit too safe in its proceedings, Materialists is nonetheless rich in, character, dilemmas, and conflicts that spark debate about life’s priorities. Its message feels particularly timely.

The plot centers on Lucy (Dakota Johnson), a young, charming, and successful New York matchmaker who finds herself entangled in a love triangle. A serious incident involving one of her elite clients deeply affects her, forcing a drastic shift in her life. Her suitors, Harry (Pedro Pascal) and John (Chris Evans), represent two opposing paths—wealth and comfort versus love and sacrifice.

Shot in 35mm, Materialists may lose some momentum toward the ending, but remains a finely crafted piece well worth seeking out. We’ve seen films like this before, but rarely have they looked or felt quite like this. Song, a thoughtful filmmaker with meaningful insights on relationships—past and present—ticks off every box on the film’s agenda and wraps it up with a big smile. This is not a backward step for the director, who portrays a transactional dating ecosystem with both realism and cleverness.

The Phoenician Scheme (2025)

Direction: Wes Anderson
Country: USA

In his latest feature, The Phoenician Scheme, Wes Anderson takes aim at capitalism without morals, blending slapstick and absurdism in a live-action espionage comedy suffused with sumptuous visuals and imaginative scenarios marked by his signature symmetry. Co-written with Roman Copolla and dedicated to his father-in-law, Lebanese businessman Faoud Malouf, the film was primarily shot at Babelsberg, the world's oldest film studio, and boasts an impressive cast led by Benicio Del Toro, Kate Winslet’s daughter Mia Threapleton, and Michael Cera. 

Zsa-Zsa Korda (Del Toro), a cunning, wealthy industrialist, has survived multiple plane crashes and assassination attempts. Wanted for fraud, he is a man of countless schemes and grand projects for the Phoenicia region. He designates his daughter Liesl (Threapleton), a 21-year-old nun, as the sole heir to his empire.

The story zigzags between relentless assassins—all former employees of Korda—infiltrators, double agents, betrayals, revolutionary guerrilla robberies, mysterious shoeboxes, and a hilariously odd basketball competition. The dialogues are surprisingly witty, and Anderson’s cinematic universe is stylized to reflect his unique whims. The Phoenician Scheme may not fully achieve the greatness it aspires to, but it offers a relentlessly stylish parade of comic characters—certainly a more charming, funny, and captivating experience than Anderson’s previous dull feature Asteroid City (2023). At least here, I remained invested in the characters, in a film propelled by an atypical rhythm and enlivened by an unapologetic “cartoon” sensibility. 

Framed by fragmented twists, it doesn’t always land both narratively and comically, but its flashes of darkness bring a welcome novelty to a burlesque depiction of society that questions our times with explosiveness and wild madness.

Sinners (2025)

Direction: Ryan Coogler
Country: USA

Sinners—a wildly entertaining film that, while echoing many others, ends up unlike anything you've seen—marks the fourth collaboration between director Ryan Coogler (Creed, 2015; Black Panther, 2018) and actor Michael B. Jordan. It’s far from the conventional blockbuster one might expect, fusing themes of segregation and racism with vampire lore, gangster drama, and religious undercurrents, all orchestrated with a sense of direction that is both bold and disarming.

Set in Clarksdale, Mississippi, in the early 1930s, the story follows gangster twins Stack and Smoke (Jordan excels in the dual role), who return from Chicago and take their young cousin Sammie Moore (Miles Caton)—the son of a preacher and an aspiring blues musician—under their wing. They purchase a sawmill from a Ku Klux Klan member and convert it into a juke joint. On its opening night, the venue is suddenly overrun by vampires.

Resembling a smart mash-up of Dee Rees’ Mudbound and Robert Rodriguez's From Dusk Till Dawn, Sinners occasionally takes bold stylistic detours with flashes of modernity, culminating in a feverish crescendo that evokes some of the most iconic action and vampire films. It may not send chills down your spine, but it's a thrill ride—bolstered by confident performances, a compelling recreation of the 1930s American South, and impressive special effects. It also lands like a slap to the face in terms of musical impact.

Coogler’s achievement is also technical—the film was shot in two distinct formats—and the vampire parable it weaves feels more timely and relevant than it initially appears.

Warfare (2025)

Direction: Alex Garland, Ray Mendoza
Country: USA

With Warfare, co-director Alex Garland reaffirms his talent for crafting visceral, unflinchingly realistic war films, recounting the harrowing true story of a group of Navy SEAL snipers trapped in a commandeered Iraqi house during a high-risk U.S. Marines operation. Garland shares directing duties with Ray Mendoza, a former soldier who served on the actual mission, lending the film an added layer of authenticity.

If Civil War generated a buzz ahead of its success in 2024, then Warfare, featuring a stellar ensemble cast, delivers an even more intense experience, filled with brutal moments of pain and suffering, and punctuated by chilling silences and the muffled screams of despair. Be warned: the graphic violence may be deeply unsettling for some viewers.

The film portrays a grim chapter of American military history, one that not only sets your heart racing but also provokes reflection on the brutality and futility of war. Shot with unwavering precision and driven by a chaotic, raw, and primitive force, Warfare remains relentlessly claustrophobic and emotionally gripping from start to finish. The frequent use of close-ups deepens the audience's connection to the characters' trauma, making this one of the most nightmarish depictions of modern warfare ever captured on screen—an unforgettable descent into the psyche of men at war, and a powerful, if harrowing, cinematic experience.

Mickey 17 (2025)

Direction: Bong Joon Ho
Country: USA / South Korea

Mickey 17, based on the novel of the same name by Edward Ashton, is an ambitious but imperfect sci-fi blockbuster laced with black humor, social satire, and political bite. It centers on Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson), who volunteers to travel to a freezing planet as an “expendable”—a human whose body is cloned and reloaded with memories each time he dies. The planet is not only home to misunderstood alien beings called Creepers but is also governed by an authoritarian couple (Mark Ruffalo and Toni Collette) with bizarre, decadent tendencies.

The film, co-written and directed by first-rate Korean director Bong Joon Ho, doesn’t avoid some lengths and histrionics. One moment, it slips into a romantic soap opera that irritates more than it intrigues; the next, it evokes the spirit of resistance cinema—admirable in intention, but never fully realized in execution. Much like its protagonist, the narrative seems to reset every time it gains momentum, and the distinctly American brand of humor often feels bland or misplaced.

Mickey 17 ultimately falls short of expectations, and that is particularly painful given Bong's track record with masterpieces like Parasite (2019), Memories of Murder (2003), Mother (2009), and Snowpiercer (2013). Realism and caricature get locked in the same structure, and while the ballsy social commentary still holds up, the film never delivers the full-impact blow we hoped for. 

Vulcanizadora (2025)

Direction: Joel Potrykus
Country: USA

The films of independent filmmaker Joel Potrykus have achieved cult status, often presenting high-risk material that yields unexpected rewards. His latest black comedy thriller, Vulcanizadora, follows two emotionally unhinged outfits—the hyperactive, motor-mouthed Dereck Skiba (Potrykus) and the laconic, perpetually bored Marty Jackitansky (Joshua Burge). They make a bizarre pact deep in the Michigan woods. A decade after Buzzard, Potrykus and Burge reprise their roles in this psychotic delirium laced with psychological horror.

The actors dominate every scene, clearly relishing the opportunity to explore territory most filmmakers would shy away from. They do so with a disarming simplicity. The subject matter is anything but light, and the film’s pull comes from the ambiguity and tension it steadily builds.

Bone-dry in tone, Vulcanizadora offers zero warmth, scant compassion, and weird characters. There is something profoundly unsettling about this tale of anguish, as Potrykus probes human vulnerability with a nameless, creeping unease. He reminds us that there’s still vitality in low-budget independent cinema, and his oddly sorrowful mindbender—flawed and fascinating—leaves its mark.

Black Bag (2025)

Direction: Steven Soderbergh
Country: USA 

Black Bag—a term referring to clandestine operations carried out by spies to steal secrets or sensitive documents—is a slow-burning thriller directed by Steven Soderbergh and starring an ensemble cast spearheaded by Michael Fassbender and Cate Blanchett. Fassbender’s character, George Woodhouse, is loosely inspired by CIA legend James Jesus Angleton.

Set in London over a taut, fast-paced week, the film doesn’t skimp on suspense—and even less on bite. David Koepp’s sharp script guides us through an unflashy yet gripping narrative of secret agents—two of them bound by an unshakable marital bond—doubtful behaviors and motives, and slippery professional relationships. Micro-aggressions, overt confrontations, cynical exchanges, and provocative mind games abound, all delivered with the right mix of irresistible glamour and disdainful coldness.

Though a minor entry in Soderbergh’s filmography, Black Bag brews a sleek concoction of twisted love and espionage with classy images and perfectly written dialogue. It’s a methodical, disconcerting, and deceptively simplistic effort from the American filmmaker, whose restrained touch here proves unexpectedly enjoyable.

Companion (2025)

Direction: Drew Hancock
Country: USA 

By fusing elements of Ex-Machina, Black Mirror, and M3gan, Companion—a muddled sci-fi comedy thriller with a splash of gore—operates on artificial dramatic energies. Written and directed by Drew Hancock, the film follows a couple—insensitive and tactless Josh (Jack Quaid) and devoted, deeply-in-love Iris (Sophia Thatcher)—on a wild weekend getaway with friends at a remote cabin. Things take a dark turn when it’s revealed that one of them is a companion robot that can shift from vulnerable and needy to intoxicatingly confident and violent.

While Companion isn't a complete misfire, it delivers a middling cinematic experience, favoring familiar concepts over genuine wit and substance. The wobbly and misguided final acts fail to disguise the fact that the film doesn’t live up to its hype, even as it explores the horrors of toxic relationships and the looming ethical dilemmas of AI.

The biggest issue is the relentless sequence of twists, which attempts to keep the film engaging but ultimately feels exhausting. Though there are weird and amusing moments, the predictability and lack of originality reduce them to choppy, repetitive sequences. Despite Thatcher’s committed performance and the film’s fluctuating emotional beats, Companion remains a shaky, average effort devoid of real suspense—an interesting idea bogged down by a literal-minded, mechanical, and somewhat draggy execution.

September 5 (2024)

Direction: Tim Fehlbaum
Country: USA

In September 5, Swiss director Tim Fehlbaum (Tides, 2021) turns his lens to a harrowing event that shook the world of sports in 1972. During the 20th Summer Olympics in Munich, Palestinian terrorists known as Black September took a team of Israeli athletes hostage. Simultaneously, journalists and executives from ABC Sports were forced to interrupt their coverage of the competitions to broadcast the crisis live—a historic moment witnessed by 900 million people worldwide. 

This informative inside-room thriller borders on documentary, meticulously recreating a pivotal moment in television journalism. The film’s attention to detail is striking, particularly in its reconstruction of a fast-paced 1970s TV studio. Yet, it lacks dramatic punch, favoring simmering tension over raw emotion, and appearing slightly below its potential. 

That said, Fehlbaum effectively channels the spirit of 1970s American cinema in a classic way, raising questions about the media’s responsibility in real-time crisis reporting. While the story had the potential for grander impact, it remained somewhat unthrilling, especially for those familiar with the events.

The ensemble cast—including John Magaro, Peter Sarsgaard, Leonie Benesch, and Ben Chaplin—delivers solid performances, though no one truly stands out. Still, the film successfully explores journalistic ethics, weaving moral dilemmas and personal ambitions into its narrative with nuance and objectivity.

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 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.

Nosferatu (2024)

Direction: Robert Eggers
Country: USA

Gothic morbidity saturates Nosferatu, a fable of supernatural torment and human sacrifice that’s reasonably chilling, offering a sumptuous engorgement of the senses. This latest adaptation, written and directed by Robert Eggers (The Witch, 2015; The Lighthouse, 2019; The Northman, 2022), is a remake of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 horror gem Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror. More monstrous and barbaric than its previous incarnations, Nosferatu is true to Eggers’ singular style, who made it darker and dirtier but still imbued with the essence of German expressionist cinema. 

Eggers' Nosferatu sheds the trappings of traditional horror to embrace a lavish yet unsettling modern interpretation of vampirism. Though bleak and brutal, it lacks sustained suspense but introduces intriguing new elements that captivate. Lily-Rose Depp, stepping in for Anya Taylor-Joy, delivers a commendable performance as Ellen, bringing depth and nuance to the role. Willem Dafoe, in his third collaboration with Eggers, portrays Professor Von Franz, an authority on alchemy, mysticism, and the occult who aids Ellen as her dreams grow more sinister and possessions intensify. Bill Skarsgård embodies the ominous Count Orlok, a vampire consumed by an obsessive desire for Ellen since her youth.

Jarin Blaschke’s impeccable cinematography masterfully captures the brooding atmosphere, while the period-appropriate costumes enrich the film’s dread-laden 19th-century ambiance. Despite a few unnecessary stretches, Nosferatu may not reach the pinnacle of vampire cinema, but it remains a taut and eerie spectacle anchored by strong, compelling performances.

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.