The title of EVIL DOES NOT EXIST initially implies a sense of virtue, an optimistic hope that the world isn’t as fatally flawed as our experience would make us believe, but Ryusuke Hamaguchi slowly and surely maps out the different layers of the local community that are a microcosm of our larger society.
SHORTCOMINGS is a title that almost invites criticism, but this easygoing look at relationship difficulties has more strengths than weaknesses. It doesn’t default to feelgood safety, and has flawed characters that don’t undergo magic transformations.
With THE ROYAL HOTEL, Kitty Green has once again shown that she can strike a perfectly pitched tone, knowing exactly how she wants to escalate tension, whether it be from female powerlessness at the hands of predatory executives or the roaring, blistering diatribe spat from the drunk mouth of an average man.
THE ELECTRICAL LIFE OF LOUIS WAIN conducts a lot of charm, and the affecting performance of Cumberbatch reduces resistance to the film’s more twee elements in the opening stretch.
Someone is told at one point in ATABAI that “sadness is good for poets” – Niki Karimi’s film is full of sadness but has many skilled poets both in front of and behind the camera.
With captivating central performances from two talented young actors and a crisp autumnal palate, PETITE MAMAN develops a deep emotional resonance that stays with you much longer than its 72-minute runtime.
THE SOUVENIR: PART II continues Joanna Hogg’s semi-autobiographical journey of a young woman at film school in England. This new entry develops on the first film’s themes to capture the essence of both artistic escape and being young in an England of repressed emotions.
The title of THE TWO POPES alone sounds makes it sound like a religious film that will pack a punch of witty jokes. What the film circulates and builds upon is the cult of personality that surrounds the role of Pope and the papacy as a whole. Elle Haywood reviews.
BLACK NARCISSUS creeps along beside you until you realise something’s not quite right before, sometimes comically, leading you into an unnerving horror-verse, which slowly builds with the ringing bells and the beating of the village drums.
Not once does THE LIGHTHOUSE feel stale, complete with fart jokes, seagull attacks and some hilarious drunken moments. April McIntyre reviews.
