Freaks: You're One of Us

Wendy holds back most day days. She’s become a pushover who can’t support her family.

It doesn’t have to be this way. If Wendy lets loose, she can take on anything. But her solution is her problem: Superhuman abilities can hurt people as easily as they can get things done. We watch as she (and some new friends) struggle through this dilemma.

This is a bit slower, and has less action than your typical superhero movie—which makes it refreshing and believable. Instead of yet another fight scene we can guess the ending to, each new interaction brings excitement and mystery.

That said, there’s no good without evil. Some scenes have distracting continuity issues. Characters are underdeveloped, and plot holes are jumped, all in the hopes that we’ll be happy enough rooting for the good guy.

The Social Dilemma

The Social Dilemma is the existential threat of our time.

The most wealthy companies in the history of companies make their money by doing one thing. It’s easy, and it’s legal, so why would they ever stop?

Because it’s destroying the foundation of civilization. At least, that’s what some thinkers and industry insiders are saying. This movie is a sit-down with several of them. They patiently explain the problem: what it is, where it came from, and where it’s leading us.

Watching movies can be about having fun, or escaping, or learning. This one is about having a blindfold ripped off, and finding that you’re on a sinking ship. Once that happens, what’ll you do? Reach for your phone?

Andhadhun

Akash may be blind, but he’s always on the lookout. Somewhere out there is the key to better music. He’s sure of it.

Good intentions aren’t helping, though. In fact, they usually lead Akash into trouble. This is when the movie is at its best: Akash’s reactions are as cheeky and inventive as his predicaments.

It’s clever yes, and long. We meet many characters, some of whom are frustrating, and some of whom add nothing to the story. But isn’t that life? Long enough to be unexpected, funny, confusing, dangerous? And so this movie.

The Burnt Orange Heresy

James loves art; talking about it, writing about it. He’s perceptive and calculating, and so, a good storyteller. When the opportunity to meet an art great knocks, he’s ready at the door.

Then it opens. What’s inside might be too much for James to handle. As he struggles with reality, we begin to grasp just how good a storyteller he can be. Scary good.

This is a sleek thriller. It blends the cushy, removed feel of high art with the sharp, clinging emotions of real life. Smooth writing and acting are somehow jarring, while the picture itself skews our perceptions. Sunset grays, blues, and oranges set each scene—for good reason.

Mulan

Hua Mulan is gifted. We all have qi, but she’s got a country’s worth.

The problem? Boundless energy is not marriage material. The bigger problem? Invaders threaten the nation, and if Mulan wants to help defend it, she’ll have to break all the rules.

What follows is a colorful, nuanced, and exciting epic, suitable for all ages. Perhaps more impressively, it is all these things while examining what it means to live a virtuous life.

This is no fluff, or nostalgia trip.

La Partita (The Match)

You wouldn’t guess teen soccer to be so gripping. But you have no idea the layers and players to today’s game. Not yet.

As play develops on-field, the story develops off-. Each new piece of information deepens our investment.

It is a gritty, nerve-wracking movie. You don’t need to like sports to appreciate its genius.

Creative camerawork scores an extra point with natural light. Here find beauty. And barbarism.

Office

Oh, the Office! What will today bring?

Two new recruits are ready to find out. As they learn about work(/life), so do we.

It’s a musical equal parts play and movie. Dazzling set design builds emotion, and songs amplify it. There’s promise, intrigue, romance, and more.

The movie certainly has an opinion on the corporate world, but it’s never as tedious as a team meeting. It stays fun and energetic while exploring the highs and the lows.

The Tree House (Nhà Cây)

The Tree House is a place apart.

A man has traveled to Mars and wants to record his experience. It’s made him nostalgic—and curious. What is memory, anyway? Why does it come and go?

We struggle with these questions, too, as we watch people back in Vietnam discuss their lives.

The movie is not straightforward. But its connection to the natural world is powerful. It begs a rewatch.

Tesla

Tesla is nothing short of a vision.

From first to last, Nikola Tesla’s days were hardship. No matter. He never stopped trying to make the world a better place. His freight train brain wouldn’t allow it.

The movie is just moments, but moments that encapsulate his tortured, hopeful life.

Dark colors, wildly different music, and quirky narration keeps us uncomfortable, but close. Every scene asks: Can you feel how he hurts? See how he stands out?

It’s a movie about ideas hundreds of years ahead of their time. And it’s told in a way only slightly less striking.

Project Power

Project Power is quite the experiment.

Power now comes in a pill. There’s money to be made here—and people to be exploited.

As the drug makes its way through the city, the lives of three very different people will intersect. Their relationships and motivations, their fear and abilities, draw you in.

So is the experiment a success? Prepare for some eye-rolls. But the story, lead acting, music, sound mix, pace, and camerawork—they’re the work of experts.

Fagara

Fagara is at constant simmer.

Ha Leung’s death will bring three women together. They’re strangers to each other, yet closer than they know.

Each scene makes the story richer. Death is ever-present, but reminds us that life can be as spicy as we make it.

Crisp picture and colors maintain a nostalgic vibe. A number of scenes last longer than they need to, but hey, life isn’t perfect.

Made in Italy

Made in Italy usually means quality.

Jack is in a bad way and doesn’t know what to do about it. So, he grasps at straws. One is his father; another is their house in Tuscany.

Both are distant. As time passes, we learn why.

It’s tough to connect with this movie. The lead actors are stiff and unconvincing, and the scenes don’t flow. Dramatic plot and location aren’t enough to sell us on this kind of craftsmanship.

She Dies Tomorrow

Amy can’t explain why. She just knows. So, she spends her last day doing things that make her happy.

She also tells people. And that’s when the movie gets interesting. Her conviction spreads like a virus, with each new host reacting in its own way.

The slow start and choppy timeline make this movie feel a bit too intellectual (in part because it’s more thoughts and discussions than actions). But good acting feeds off a great premise. Colorful close-ups infect us with a feeling: There are powerful things going on that we cannot see.

It’s a weird, eerie one.

Shakuntala Devi

Shakuntala Devi was a human whirlwind.

And she knew it. It doesn’t take a math genius to figure that, if you’re going to school just to teach the teachers, your future is bright. She happily sped past hometown and family.

Her globetrotting journey is exciting and impressive. But the second half of the movie is as much about her capabilities as it is about her mistakes. Family life was never her strong suit, and raising a daughter forces her to deal with this.

The movie is based on a true story, though was clearly edited to be light, entertaining, and modern. Some points drag, but they’re soon picked up by Shakuntala’s devastating aptitude and charm.

Vivarium

Vivarium is life . . . if you can call this living.

Gemma and Tom are looking for a house. An eager, if strange realtor knows just the place for them: A perfect place to live forever.

Anyways, the young couple doesn’t need perfect, and this one-note neighborhood is far from it. Things turn queasy when Gemma and Tom try to leave.

This movie is just spectacular. From beginning to end, every aspect (set design, coloration, editing, cinematography, writing, acting, directing, music, and so on!) creates a plastic, unsettling world that tells a story about ours. Humans can aspire, making perfect little things to use in our perfect little homes. But we’re deluding ourselves. Nature is one, scary thing, and we all know it.

The King of Staten Island

Who’s the King of Staten Island?

It can’t be Scott. He’s aimless; jobless; addicted. And this even though people love and support him. He just can’t seem to move on after his father died fighting a fire.

But his family is. Everyone else is. So something’s gotta change, for better or worse.

There are heavy themes here, but the movie is never heavy. It’s as smart, sweet, and funny as its characters. Perfect casting keeps Scott’s journey real but entertaining, and transports us to a place and mindset called Staten Island.

Da 5 Bloods

Da 5 Bloods are back at it.

Well, four are. Reuniting in Vietnam to recover the remains of their friend and leader. It’s all smiles and stories. But da Bloods have another, fantastically dangerous and exciting job to do, too. And so an epic story unfolds.

This jungle of a world will require their sacrifice once again. But they’re older and wiser now. They take time to call out the black (male) trailblazers who continue to inspire their lives. In these moments, the movie turns documentary, giving us real names. Real images. This chops the flow a bit, but is informative and powerful, reflective and celebratory.

It’s a complex movie in other ways, looking at pain across years and borders. Of how people pushed up against the wall can claw at each other. Paul’s journey is expertly played, and includes one of the most enveloping soliloquies you’ll see in movies.

Nobody Knows I’m Here

And that’s how Memo likes it.

As a child who tried to share his voice with the world, he found trauma. The hurt was so profound that even now, years later, he has trouble trusting people.

His secluded life seems peaceful. But every so often we glimpse conflict: Memo still yearns to perform. This conflict intensifies when somebody recognizes his promise—and listens to his pain.

The setting is beautiful, as is the movie’s study of how people manage uncomfortable emotions. Every scene is carefully sculpted to explore this theme.

The lead dazzles in portraying Memo’s mostly silent struggle. At a moment’s notice, his face and eyes become windows to deep pain; he transforms a lumbering recluse into a performer radiating energy.

Joan of Arc

Everything about Joan of Arc is different.

For starters, she’s a ten-year-old in charge of the French army. Oh, and she hears voices from heaven. Get the picture?

Some do. Others don’t care for unwavering piety. When Joan acts against the King, she’s put on trial. Its back-and-forth is engrossing: Each party tries to do right by the others, but whoever loses will lose big.

And yet, this movie is as much class clown as Sunday school. It pokes fun at the pomp and formality of the military, the church—prayer itself—in ways so strange and obvious that you’re transported out of the story, wondering if the movie itself is the ridiculous thing.

Mania aside, this is a serious story of human character. Scenes pop with rich colors and varied staging.

Tigertail

Tigertail takes time to unwind.

Pin-Jui has made sacrifices to build a better life. Years later, he replays them in his mind.

We’d never know it from his stone face. Even now, with his mother just having died alone in Taiwan, and with his daughter struggling to find happiness, does he set aside certain emotions to focus on the practical.

Only by piecing together closely-framed flashbacks can we understand why. Experiences of lost love and hard work show us a person who is anything but cold, who always tried to do the best by his poor mother.

Before these flashbacks, the movie is uncomfortable, even slow. Hyperrealistic editing and Pin-Jui’s stoicism create a boring melancholy, one that only hints at the feelings of a full life still being lived. But the tail does eventually unwind. In the end, we’ll know its curves, and watch as a new one forms. It is moving stuff.