Far from mythologising Mark Kerr’s contributions to mixed martial arts, Benny Safdie treats his body as both an instrument and casualty of the sport’s formation in The Smashing Machine, illustrating its personal cost in intensely tactile, psychological terms.
Confined to an emergency call centre, The Voice of Hind Rajab narrows in on the conversations between dispatch personnel and a young girl trapped in the Israeli assault on Gaza, using authentic audio recordings to anchor its dramatisation within a procedural, visceral reality.
The kinetic choreography which fuses dance and combat in KPop Demon Hunters certainly impresses, yet music transcends spectacle in this vibrant, neon-soaked world of idols turned warriors, liberating performers and fans alike from those inner voices that gnaw at self-worth.
Richard Linklater sensitively bares the lonely, eccentric soul of Broadway lyricist Lorenz Hart in Blue Moon, locating him on the opening night of his old creative partner’s newest hit, and tracing the heartbreak, jealousy, and self-sabotage that send him spiralling towards oblivion.
Nora’s scepticism towards reconciling with her estranged father may be justified in Sentimental Value, yet the power of healing through artistic collaboration is not to be underestimated, as Joachim Trier peels back layers of generational trauma to expose the tender vulnerability beneath.
Jafar Panahi channels his fury at Iran’s oppressive regime into the complex moral dilemma of It Was Just an Accident, propelling a party of former political prisoners on a quest to identify a man they believe to be their torturer, and uneasily distilling the gnawing, unrelenting anxiety of their tortured survival.
The cerebral pleasures of Wake Up Dead Man’s painstakingly plotted mystery may captivate the mind, yet Rian Johnson’s careful attention to the spiritual stakes within a guilty church congregation resonates with haunting ambiguity, unravelling the impossible, locked-room murder of a vindictive priest.
Although the uneven pacing of Wicked: For Good blunts its dramatic urgency, Jon M. Chu delivers a finale steeped in fantastical, kaleidoscopic ambition, subverting cinematic canon with lavish worldbuilding, impossible designs, and freshly layered characterisations.
Uneven pacing and plotting aside, The Running Man imperfectly thrives in Edgar Wright’s stylish, sardonic thrills, charting a fugitive’s desperate odyssey through a dystopian America where survival is broadcast for mass entertainment.
Through Nouvelle Vague’s homage to cinema’s boldest revolution, Richard Linklater reaffirms his place among those who champion the thrill of raw creation, recounting the feverish, spontaneous inspiration that erupted on Jean-Luc Godard’s chaotic production of Breathless.
