Hanna Bergholm’s stunningly original debut film Hatching embraces the experience of female adolescence as the monster that it is, and then gives that monster literal wings.
Charline Bourgeois-Tacquet’s directorial debut offers a twist of zest to the tired tale of a vivacious young woman pursuing romance with an older man.
Everybody seems to be infatuated with everyone else in the film, locking eyes with an intensity that could shame a tantra guru.
After Yang merges director Kogonada’s fastidious attention to form with a rare empathy for the insecurity of the human condition, especially within the nuclear unit.
Laura Wandel’s debut film examines the psychological — and physical — carnage wrought between children when grown-ups look the other way.
Jackson’s two-dimensional surfaces lead us into a maze of shapes and visual gestures, yet tease us into recognizing the figures hidden within.
Part of the glory of the film is that its heroine’s choices, however unexpected, are taken seriously.
Rather than celebrate intrepid man capturing, and controlling, the magic of “nature,” the film focuses more on how nature watches us.
This may not be a great film, but its narrative and tonal weaknesses throw into relief just how strong Léa Seydoux is as its thumping heart.
In the films of Mike Mills, sensitive male characters reckon with who they are when who they are doesn’t seem to measure up.
What’s more natural, the film seems to ask — the “body parts” under the hood of a car or those pulsing beneath a woman’s navel?
Lynne Ramsay’s 1999 debut film is arguably one of the masterpieces of 20th-century depictions of childhood poverty.