Reviews

There's a big difference between being funny and being laughable, yet the latest from writer-director Coralie Fargeat has somehow found a way to be both. After amassing a considerable amount of largely well-earned cinematic goodwill in the film's opening segments, the picture mercilessly squanders that support in the final act with an overlong, meandering, disgustingly gratuitous and grotesque exhibition of utterly bad taste. This story of an aging actress (Demi Moore) who seeks to revive her career by retrieving some of her lost youth with the aid of an enigmatic injectable follows her grand misadventures when the mysterious substance prompts the emergence of a younger doppelganger (Margaret Qualley), who becomes a Hollywood sex kitten sensation virtually overnight. To make this experimental venture work, however, the two individuals must follow a complex set of rules, dictates that become increasingly difficult to follow as they each vie for their respective shares of attention. And, as this scenario unfolds, tension grows between them, leading to complications and unexpected developments that become progressively harder to manage. But that's where what works in the film ends. As the story plays out from there, it becomes stupendously absurd, and, even though there are some hearty laughs in this, there are even more ridiculously implausible and unexplained occurrences that try audience members' patience and tolerance, so much so that I couldn't wait for this trainwreck to end. In addition to the foregoing shortcomings, the film includes myriad changes in tone, making it difficult to determine whether this is supposed to be a serious thriller or a campy road, very much in the same way as in the incomprehensible French offering "Titane" (2021). It also shamelessly "borrows" elements from other movies in various ways, most notably imagery and narrative references from "The Shining" (1980) and "Young Frankenstein" (1974), costume designs from the "Hunger Games" franchise, and bafflingly inexplicable soundtrack excerpts from films like "Vertigo" (1958). Then there's the picture's obvious, heavy-handed message about the perils of misogyny, observations that, as important as they are, could easily stood to have been turned down more than a few notches (yes, we get it already). At the same time, though, there are also some fundamentally innate questions about the narrative that go wholly unanswered, leaving us with numerous head-scratching moments. Sadly, these failings detract significantly from the elements that do work (at least early on in the film), such as the fine performances of Moore and Qualley, the picture's inventive cinematography, and a central premise that could have made for an engaging story if handled with greater finesse. But these strengths are effectively cancelled by what ultimately results when this release goes off the rails. Indeed, how "The Substance" captured the 2024 Cannes Film Festival award for best screenplay is truly mind boggling. I'm certainly a fan of the weird, wild and wacky, but this release undermines the virtues of those cherished qualities. Regrettably, I was seriously looking forward to seeing this offering, and I was decidedly impressed by what I saw in its opening acts, but that was all wiped out by how this one ultimately played out, a picture that, in the end, ironically relied more on style than "substance."

For many of us, notions related to witchcraft and the supernatural frequently conjure up images of things scary, menacing, even evil. But those who freely engage in these practices are often frustrated by just how misunderstood their ways are perceived by others, gestures that are generally intended for beneficial purposes, especially when it comes to the processes of self-discovery and manifesting one's hopes and dreams. And one area in which those aims are particularly true is in the romance department, regardless of one's lifestyle or orientation. Such is the premise at work in writer-director Jane Clark's latest feature outing, the story of Eve (Diora Baird), a middle-aged, successful but lonely businesswoman who makes a pilgrimage to a secluded wilderness vacation home in California's Topanga Canyon, a journey whose purpose and outcome are mostly unclear, even to her. The journey is principally a tribute to her recently deceased mother who, for reasons largely unexplained, considered the warm and welcoming venue a personally meaningful refuge, an enigmatic sanctuary of sorts. Once there, however, the love-starved protagonist experiences a series of unusual, unexplained events, some mystical, some playful, some resonant and some unexpectedly romantic. Indeed, in short order, a budding relationship develops between the circumspect hermitic protagonist and her kindly neighbor, Danni (Marem Hassler), the owner of the property and an avowed, unabashed wiccan spiritualist. Their initially unlikely connection proves to be just what each other needs. But, as this emerging romance blossoms, they each must face issues from their respective pasts that they need to work through in order to move forward, challenging tasks that ultimately benefit from a little magic and a whole lot of warm and tender support. This delightfully different love story is a refreshing surprise in many respects, combining seemingly disparate narrative elements in a charming, revelatory and frequently humorous tale. In addition to lovingly presenting a passionate, heartwarming same-sex romance, the film provides viewers with a plainspoken, authentic, sincerely enlightening examination of philosophical and metaphysical topics that are often unfairly mischaracterized by blatantly erroneous and often-insulting misconceptions. Even though the picture is a tad slow to get started and can at times become a little too talky, it nevertheless pays off handsomely in the end, growing progressively stronger and more engaging as the film unfolds, all without ever becoming schmaltzy or coming across like an overwrought, saccharin-encrusted Hallmark Channel movie. "Witchy Ways" is truly an enchanting work of LGBTQ+ cinema that works its magic wonderfully, an offering that just might cast a spell over you.

Relishing the freedom to openly be oneself can be a fulfilling and liberating experience, especially for those who have lived most of their lives hiding from disapproving family members and a close-minded society. So it is for Lourenço (Marco Pigossi), a Brazilian transplant seeking to resettle permanently in Provincetown, MA, a goal dependent on him acquiring a work visa to replace a tourist visa that's about to expire. He has an added incentive to fulfill that objective when he meets and falls for Maurice (James Bland), a vacationer from New York who's visiting the oceanside resort town before embarking on an ambitious, long-term nursing residency in the wilds of Angola. But can the two would-be lovers make this relationship work in light of the impending changes in their respective lives, geography and careers? What's more, as this budding romance begins to blossom, Lourenço also wrestles with leftover baggage from an old relationship, unwanted advances from opportunistic lecherous would-be suitors and never-ending pressure from his mother back in Brazil, who is unaware of his closeted sexuality and routinely prods him to settle down and find a wife. While writer-director Marco Calvani capably and sensitively presents a tender, authentic, same-sex love story, the picture nevertheless tells a somewhat familiar tale whose narrative is not particularly original in the annals of LGBTQ+ cinema. It also struggles to blend its own brands of comedy and drama, both of which are handled well in their own right but whose inherent natures frequently come across as too extremely opposed to one another to harmonize in a believable, coherent whole. On top of that, the film also tries to cover too much ground at times, with a number of subplots that could have been easily trimmed or eliminated entirely without causing any undue harm to the picture overall. To its credit, though, this offering sincerely has its heart in the right place, despite the aforementioned shortcomings, backed up by an array of fine supporting performances and gorgeous cinematography showcasing the beauty and character of this charming Cape Cod resort town. Unfortunately, however, "High Tide" is yet another recent release that could have used some significant retooling to help it fully live up to its potential, especially given its predominantly conventional premise. Gay cinema has increasingly been moving forward in new and innovative directions in recent years, so, if filmmakers in this genre attempt to tackle new expressions of tried-and-true formulas like this, they had better have a good grasp of what they're doing if they ultimately hope to succeed in the end.

Most of us have no doubt heard the old saying (adapted from the famous poem by Robert Burns), "The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry." And, in the case of a pair of hopelessly lost Gen Z misfits (Jacon Roberts, David Treviño), truer words couldn't have been spoken. The two longtime friends from Austin, TX attempt to relocate to New York, but, when their plans fall through, they return home to regroup and figure out a way to get back to the Big Apple. They "decide" to land good-paying jobs (without any realistic prospects) from which they can diligently (or so they believe) stash away bundles of cash for a year and, simultaneously, multiply their savings by finding ways to live rent free with (i.e., shamelessly sponge off of) friends, family and even strangers, a plan they're thoroughly convinced will work. However, the reality turns out to be far different from their hopelessly misguided wishful thinking, straining their friendships with others and themselves. Their wickedly funny story (with a few touching moments) turns out to be a damning exploration of improbable, unworkable thinking, unbridled irresponsibility, inflated entitlement and generally bad form between themselves and with those who offer to help them out (but who subsequently prove to have agendas of their own as well). One would like to hope that this experience will work out (or at least provide them with a much-needed wake-up call), but will it? In that sense, "Rent Free" is a brutally telling story about a generation that not only hasn't come of age, but that is in serious need of growing up. Writer-director Fernando Andrés' second feature offering delivers a bitingly blistering modern day road trip/buddy movie of sorts about two lost souls seeking to find themselves but who perpetually get in their own way. It's particularly noteworthy for the fact that this is a film involving individuals who are part of the LGBTQ+ community but whose sexuality is more ancillary than integral to the narrative, allowing their other personal attributes and actions to carry the picture and not relying exclusively on scenarios related to their gay and bisexual orientation to define them or the nature of the story. Some viewers (particularly younger ones) may be insulted or offended by some of the content here, but perhaps that's because the filmmaker holds up a highly polished, undeniably scrutinous mirror to them and their lifestyles, providing a profoundly revelatory look at why their lives don't live up to their assumed expectations. Indeed, there is no such thing as a free lunch, and this inspired, razor-sharp offering proves that - whether viewers want to see that or not.

Possessing profound philosophical, metaphysical and theoretical scientific knowledge can provide us with unique insights into the nature of existence and how reality comes into being, and aspiring to the attainment of that wisdom is undoubtedly a noble and worthwhile goal. But, in all truthfulness, what good is that knowledge if we lack the practical, plainspoken common sense to know what to do with it, particularly when it comes to shaping the destinies of our own lives? Does such a lofty objective truly lead to meaningful satisfaction and genuine fulfillment? Those are the questions faced by fifty-something writer and scientist Zoya Lowe (Mary-Louise Parker) when confronting her impending mortality, an outcome she's successfully been able to circumvent by employing novel means to avoid it. The catch, however, is that she can only use these enigmatic measures to rewind the clock of her life by a week, a pattern that keeps repeating nearly identically in each case. They may help her stave off death, but do they produce an innately satisfying result? And why can she only go back in time for one week - why not longer and why not past the same end point in each case? After becoming bored with this endlessly repeating scenario, she decides to pursue a different course by launching an investigation into the mechanics of time travel with the aid of an ambitious laboratory assistant (Ayo Edibiri) with whom she has an unexpected chance encounter. However, once their work begins, they come no closer to finding a solution, prompting Zoya to engage in some heavy-duty introspection about such issues as did she make the most of her life up to the start of her final fateful week and what, in fact, constitutes the nature of bona fide corporeal fulfillment? Indeed, she must ask herself, what really matters in life and does her extensive knowledge truly help her understand it? Writer-director Bernardo Britto packs a great deal of genuinely thoughtful material into this intelligently conceived, smartly written, at times poetic story that explores heady sci-fi topics from an intensely personal, extremely intimate standpoint, something rarely seen in films from this genre. It accomplishes this without relying on an abundance of glitzy special effects, instead employing some of the most effective film editing I've ever seen, presenting vivid imagery with dazzling, dramatic, rapid-fire precision to captivate audiences and hold viewer attention. It also features what's arguably Parker's best on-screen performance, revealing a dynamic range of emotions from joy to sadness to vulnerability not often seen in characters in narratives such as this. There's a fair amount of well-placed comic relief, too, inspired by the narratives of films like "Groundhog Day" (1993) but without being an obvious copycat. Admittedly, the picture drags a bit at times in the second half (at least by comparison to the sustained frenetic pace of its opening act), but that's more than made up for by the emotionally affecting closing sequence, one that's sure to melt viewers' hearts. "Omni Loop" is unlike most other science fiction offerings that most of us have probably seen, but it's one well worth a look, especially for the lingering impressions it's likely to leave on us and the soul searching it's destined to prompt, considerations we should all bear in mind when it comes to the lives we create for ourselves, undertakings that we should strive to handle skillfully, with a sense of joy and an aim for achieving the greatest degree of fulfillment attainable.

The movie-within-a-movie narrative is a popular cinematic storytelling approach, but, to my knowledge, writer-director Zacharias Mavroeidis's fourth feature outing is the first film to make use of it in the LGBTQ+ genre. This endearing gay comedy-drama tells the story of two long-time best friends, Demosthenes (Yorgos Tsiantoulas), a former actor-turned civil servant, and Nikitas (Andreas Labropoulos), a former actor-turned aspiring filmmaker, who try to come up with a concept for the would-be auteur's latest movie project while hanging out together at a nude beach on the stunningly beautiful Greek seacoast. They toss around a variety of ideas, but they get the most traction out of a story and script based on the waning days of Demos's relationship with his former partner, Panos (Nikolaos Mikas), two summers earlier, a breakup for which Nikitas had a tolerance-testing front row seat. The events of that awkward, protracted separation are depicted here in a series of flashbacks in which the duo struggles to figure out where things went wrong and why, an examination that ultimately ends up revealing more about them as individuals than as a couple. In the process, the film presents a refreshingly authentic, often-revealing look at the dynamics of relationships and friendships among gay men, particularly when it comes to matters of honesty and commitment, both in and out of partnership contexts. And, along the way, the authors of this evolving production simultaneously look for ways to spice up their work, an exercise in inspired creativity, emboldened social activism, fiercely courageous self-acceptance, constrained moviemaking economics, challenging family relations and even benevolent pet care. However, the breadth of material presented in this story is, admittedly, a lot to skillfully massage into a coherent finished product. The filmmaker seems sincere enough in what he's trying to say, but he also comes across as somewhat inundated in trying to pull it all together into a neat and tidy package. To be sure, there are many earnest moments and flashes of brilliant humor here, but there's also a tendency to meander and a good deal of extraneous material that could have easily been deleted. This is perhaps most noticeable in the final act, where the momentum starts to sputter, almost as if the director doesn't quite know how to wrap things up. "The Summer with Carmen" truly represents an ambitious effort with decidedly mature, thoughtful sensibilities running throughout (arguably much more so than what one typically sees in many LGBTQ+ films), but it's also one that could have benefitted greatly from an editor unafraid to make the necessary cuts to allow it to shine as brightly as it might have.

Can polished, entertaining sci-fi effectively be delivered on a shoestring budget and under a tight shooting schedule? If writer-director Zach Clark's "The Becomers" is any indication, the answer is a resounding "yes." Add to this ambitious mix a sharply written story and script, skillful film editing, an innate quirkiness, a wry satirical bent and inventive, impeccably timed humor, and viewers have got a top-notch, quasi-campy sci-fi comedy on their hands, one well worth the watch. The filmmaker's latest tells the story of a pair of star-crossed alien lovers who manage to escape their dying planet and come to Earth but are now desperately trying to find one another once again. It can be a challenge given their unfamiliarity with the ways of their new home, as well as their inescapable need to regularly appropriate (albeit, somewhat surprisingly, seemingly innocently) the bodies of human hosts (think a far less menacing, more sentimental version of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," with its inherently grim events supported, ironically, by a sweet, but unusual, and certainly undeniable love story). Eventually, however, the differences between the two worlds invariably catch up with the duo, with their frequent (and often-improvised and opportunistic) switches involving them in an array of diverse scenarios populated by such characters as a woman in the process of giving birth, a cult of radical (but politically and spiritually oriented reformist) terrorists, and a corrupt high-ranking politician and his largely dysfunctional family. In telling this tale, the film serves up a big platter of laughs (some guilty pleasure-level goofy, others supremely witty and genuinely inspired), accompanied by ample introspections into such topics as gender and racial identity, the undeserved clout of crooked government officials, the metaphysics behind the nature of "being," and the complicated relationship between survival and remorse, not to mention a whole lot about love. And it's all topped off by a fine, obviously tight-knit acting ensemble, many of whose members' roles don't necessarily require much from them, but all of whom play their parts in ways that elevate them to unexpected levels of excellence and eloquence, more than one might ordinarily expect from a movie in this genre. That's quite a list of achievements for a low-cost indie production of any kind, let alone one with the more demanding budget requirements and constraints typically associated with science fiction releases. But that's where this picture's production crew has really risen to the occasion by devising simple yet innovative ways to dazzle without breaking the bank, a brilliant accomplishment. If I had any reservation about this film, it would probably be that it's a little slow to get rolling, but that's more than made up for by the overall quality of this offering. If you enjoy quality filmmaking made up of the foregoing elements, you owe it to yourself to catch this one (preferably on a big screen, if possible). Like me, you'll probably come away from it pleasantly surprised for what it delivers - not to mention encouraged by impressively illustrating what the film industry can achieve when it earnestly puts its mind to it.

Psychic ability is a subject that often mystifies yet captivates many of us. It's also a topic that's frequently misunderstood and comes with a lot of distorted, uninformed baggage in need of serious clarification. Those looking to be enlightened about it, however, are unlikely to come away from director Lana Wilson's documentary on the subject with much new or profound insight. The film profiles seven New York City psychic professionals through conversations with these individuals and footage from sessions with some of their clients. Regrettably, though, this overlong offering is in serious need of being trimmed and recut. Much of the material becomes redundant and tedious as the film progresses, and the picture frequently focuses on the wrong content. Many of the client sessions, for example, are abruptly cut short just as they're starting to get interesting. In addition, the interviews with the psychics are at their best when they wax philosophically about the nature of this phenomenon (particularly when discussing how they became involved in this practice, often through artistic, healing and self-acceptance avenues), but there's not nearly enough of these fascinating metaphysical musings. And then there's a potentially intriguing collective gathering involving all seven psychics that, sadly, receives woefully short shrift, again getting clipped just as it's becoming engaging. Instead of more of what works best in the film, viewers are left with numerous easily eliminated pregnant pauses, often-superfluous descriptions about everyday aspects of the psychics' personal lives and overly repetitive discussion of subjects addressed in the session material (especially those involving the work of a pet psychic, an intriguing but vastly overused narrative element). "Look Into My Eyes" could have been a genuinely revelatory, insightful examination of this subject, but the filmmaker has not made the most of that golden opportunity. Instead of providing audiences with a meaningful, articulate look into the subject matter, viewers are left with a meandering, unfocused treatment of a topic that could be valuable and impactful to many of us - and that truly deserves better handling than what's presented here.

Movies about little-known, faraway locations can be a great way to learn about exotic destinations and cultures. And those set in a historical context can offer excellent opportunities for insights into the legacies of these locales. Such was my hope for this offering from writer-director Robin Campillo about the waning days of the French presence on the island of Madagascar. Set in the early 1970s, approximately a decade after the nation gained independence from its former colonial occupier, the film follows the lives of several French military officers and their families, particularly their relationships with each other and with locals, at the time when France was withdrawing from the country. On the surface, this might sound like an intriguing premise for a film, but, instead, it's a mess of diverse, largely unconnected story threads that are never fully fleshed out. Over the course of this release, the disjointed narrative changes focus multiple times, telling pieces of stories from the ever-shifting perspectives of an array of characters involved in a wide range of underdeveloped scenarios, many of which are introduced and subsequently allowed to fizzle without meaningful or satisfying resolution. Much of the picture explores childhood and coming of age matters from the standpoint of Thomas (Charlie Vauselle), a shy eight-year-old seeking to find his way and understand life in this enigmatic setting. But Thomas's experience is intertwined with themes related to domestic discord, marital infidelity, interracial relationships, concealed secrets, questionable ambitions, political reform movements and the fading remnants of European imperialism. There are also a number of segments exploring Thomas's vivid fantasy life, particularly his fascination with Fantômette, the subject of a French book series for young readers featuring a crime-fighting female superhero. In presenting all of this material, the film incorporates familiar elements reminiscent of a plethora of pictures, including everything from "The Year of Living Dangerously" (1982) to "The Ice Storm" (1997), among others. In the end, though, none of this hangs together especially well, frequently leaving viewers perplexed about what's coming next or why some of this material was even included in the first place. It essentially feels like a movie put together by a committee, ultimately providing considerably more frustration than satisfaction. For what it's worth, "Red Island," sadly, is a real disappointment and a woefully missed opportunity to offer audiences something truly fresh, new and different, something the movie industry could really use more of these days.

Sitting in on a loved one's death watch can be a trying time in more ways than one can count, circumstances that many of us can probably relate to all too well. It can be an especially stressful, even hostile, experience when incompatible family members are brought together for such an ordeal, one whose duration and developments are impossible to predict. That's the scenario here faced by three very different (and often-contentious) sisters (Carrie Coon, Elizabeth Olsen, Natasha Lyonne) who begrudgingly join together for the waning days of the life of their father (Jay O. Sanders), who has been placed in home hospice care. During this reluctant, duty-bound "reunion," tempers routinely flare in confrontations stemming from the rehashing of old, unresolved issues, disagreements about current responsibilities, and the seemingly endless waiting for the inevitable to arrive. These matters all wear on the distraught siblings as they struggle to sort out what's transpiring and try to arrive at better, more civil understandings of one another. In his latest feature outing, writer-director Azazel Jacobs has created an authentic story about what often occurs under such difficult conditions, astutely blending intense drama, scathing personal interactions, dark humor and hopes for reconciliation against a backdrop of edgy anguish, searing emotional pain and pervasive uncertainty. The picture's crisp writing and stellar performances (especially Lyonne's stand-out portrayal) drive the unfolding of this gripping domestic saga, often leaving viewers uncomfortably squirming in their seats as raw, long-repressed feelings surface. To be sure, some of the transition sequences in the narrative could use better refinement to get the overall story on track for what follows, but, then, their handling in this manner could arguably be chalked up to the ubiquitous doubt lingering over this situation, a determination that audience members will have to make for themselves. Still, "His Three Daughters" is indeed one of the better releases of 2024 thus far, one that deserves serious consideration as awards season approaches, particularly in the writing and acting categories. It's also a powerful cautionary tale for any of us who may be faced with having to undergo a scenario like this at some point, providing us with valuable insight into how we might want to conduct ourselves when these trying times arise.

Recapturing the sparks of brilliance that made a movie a screen classic is a tall order to fill, to be sure. It can difficult to work the same magic a second time, especially if the first effort was so eminently memorable. And, when the sequel in which that second sought-after lightning strike takes 36 years to come into being, the chances of realizing that level of success once more can be even slimmer. So it is with this long-awaited follow-up to director Tim Burton's 1988 classic horror spoof, "Beetlejuice." It's an offering that, despite some flashes of inspired lunacy, significantly pales by comparison. To begin with, the film gets off to an incredibly dull start; it took me almost 45 minutes before I even cracked a smile (though I'll admit the humor comes along at a more sustained pace from this point onward). Then there's the picture's convoluted plot, which has several story threads that could have easily been pared back, if not eliminated entirely (never mind the fact that this offering's predecessor suffered somewhat from the same problem, though not nearly to the same degree as here). And then there's the sometimes-disjointed narrative, which could have used some tidying up in spots, particularly when it comes to the inclusion of bits that work but that don't seem to bear any meaningful correlation to one another. To its credit, however, the picture features the same stellar production design that distinguished the original, smatterings of raucous humor that genuinely echo the first film, and fine performances by its three principals - Michael Keaton, Winona Ryder and Catherine O'Hara - who effectively re-create the iconic characters they portrayed previously. However, many of the new cast members brought on board for this installment (Justin Theroux, Willem Dafoe and Monica Bellucci in particular) add little to the production, serving as disappointing reminders of those who are missing this time around (most notably Geena Davis, Alec Baldwin, Sylvia Sidney and Glenn Shadix). In many regards, I honestly must admit that this release's shortcomings don't surprise me that much, as they're typical of so many of the other lackluster attempts that have been made at reviving numerous classic movies and television series (though I was hoping that a filmmaking talent as gifted as Tim Burton might defy those odds with this offering). It's undeniable that a small dose of heartwarming nostalgia can be a pleasant tonic for those who could stand to have their spirits lifted a bit, but don't expect some kind of miracle cure from this one - the medicine needs to be stronger to accomplish that, and this remedy simply isn't up to it.

As death approaches, how should we handle it? Is it something to be feared? Something to which we're stoically and unemotionally resigned? Willingly embraced as the logical outcome of our corporeal existence? Or is something to be met with grace and measured acceptance, as expressed in the dying words of Confederate General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson: "Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees," a sentiment reflected in the title of this film, an adaptation of the 1950 Ernest Hemingway novel of the same name. Director Paula Ortiz's screen version of this work tells the story of Col. Richard Cantwell (Liev Schreiber), a US Army officer serving in Italy during the waning days of World War II. The Colonel is dying from heart disease but faces his circumstances like the committed, consummate soldier that he is. He resists all efforts at treatment and instead chooses to visit Venice before embarking on a day of duck hunting. But, before carrying out this plan, his attention is diverted by an array of developments, including introspective reflections of his troubled wartime past (having served in both of the Great Wars), the beauty of the city of canals and the company of a young contessa (Matilda De Angelis) who's trapped in a loveless arranged engagement governed more by family financial considerations than genuine romance. These events give the Colonel pause to think about his life, his regrets, his loves, his missed opportunities and his future (or what there may be left of it). The result is a quiet, poetic and often profoundly sad tale characterized by a series of deep conversations that give him (and all of us) much to ponder. Unfortunately, though, the presentation of this material is at times in need of greater finesse and clarity, remedies to counter its tendencies toward becoming overly talky and somewhat unfocused. That's regrettable given the nature of the circumstances at hand in this narrative, with their treatment frequently resulting in more diluted muddle than insightful, forthright articulation. Sadly, this shortcoming also detracts from the positively superb performances of the two leads, who portray their characters with a heartfelt earnestness, depth and sincerity, along with a carefully calculated vulnerability. To its credit, the film's gorgeous production design and absolutely stunning cinematography (especially of lesser-known Venice locales) provide a genuine feast for the eyes, truly remarkable in virtually every passing frame. It's a shame, however, that the remainder of the film doesn't measure up to these other fine qualities. Perhaps that's attributable in part to the source material, which, despite commercial success at the time of its publication, was not as critically acclaimed as the author's other works. It seems that there's a meaningful message lurking somewhere in this material (and in this film) that just never quite surfaces to the degree that it needs to, given the thoughtful subject matter that it was trying to express.

When an established community (and its associated culture) begins to disappear, its constituents (particularly those who come from an immigrant background) start to experience a palpable sense of passing into oblivion. At the same time, though, some of the residents of those neighborhoods are faced with the dilemma of having to ask themselves, "Am I part of the loss or part of its cause? And, in either case, how do I deal with the outcome and my role in it?" Such is the case for Xavier (Atibon Nazaire), a structural demolition worker who resides in Miami's Little Haiti neighborhood with his wife, Esperance (Sheila Anozier), and his adult son, Xavier Jr. (Chris Renois). The community is rapidly and aggressively becoming gentrified with each building that's being bought up and hastily torn down to make room for new development. Xavier relishes the good money he's making from a job whose impact he either can't or won't acknowledge, even when he sees the consequences of what comes from it all around him, his immediate and extended family, and the friends, neighbors and fellow countrymen of this long-settled immigrant community. It ultimately gives him pause to reflect on his past and to give thought to his future and that of subsequent generations of his people. Writer-director Monica Sorelle's debut feature quietly yet powerfully tells a story typical of many urban neighborhoods and the effects such transformations have on the local culture, shown here through a vibrant panorama of sights, sounds, music and colors, as well as the emotions of those who live in these areas. Their expressions of hope, joy, disappointment and regret are poignantly displayed through simple gestures, revealing facial expressions and telling body language, speaking volumes often without saying a word. While the picture can at times feel a little too "slice of life" for its own good (and leaving viewers wondering where the story may be headed), it ultimately conveys its messages through its fine performances, gorgeous cinematography and skillful film editing. As the nominee of two 2023 Independent Spirit Awards (including a win for the director in the competition's "Someone To Watch" Award category), as well as numerous film festival award victories and nominations, "Mountains" is an impressive start for a filmmaker who clearly has much to say and a knack for knowing how to effectively say it, especially when it comes to speaking for those who may not have a readily accessible voice of their own.

In the annals of filmmaking, few cinematic collaborations can match the accomplishments of Merchant Ivory Productions, the brainchild of producer Ismail Merchant and director James Ivory, whose work together yielded a prolific 43 movies. While perhaps best known for such iconic period piece offerings as "A Room with a View" (1985), "Maurice" (1987), "Howards End" (1992) and "Remains of the Day" (1993), the duo was also responsible for many other releases primarily filmed in the US, the UK and India, often with the participation of a "family" of regular contributors, including screenwriter Ruth Prawer Jhabvala and composer Richard Robbins. Their work is now showcased in this insightful documentary from director Stephen Soucy, featuring contemporary and archive interview footage with this team of creatives, along with numerous film clips and the observations of various crew members and a stellar lineup of actors featured in their films, including Emma Thompson, Anthony Hopkins, Vanessa Redgrave, Hugh Grant, Helena Bonham Carter, James Wilby, Rupert Graves, Samuel West and James Fox. However, this offering goes beyond presenting a mere litany of accomplishments, providing an in-depth examination of the sensibilities that characterized this team's output and the back stories of how these productions came into being (often on shoestring budgets and under rigorous, sometimes-contentious filming conditions). The film also looks at the personal lives of its two principals, who were romantically linked as one of the movie industry's first gay power couples at a time when such relationships weren't looked on with the same degree of tolerance that's in place today. What's more, much of this material is punctuated with a healthy sprinkling of wry wit, providing viewers with many laugh-out-loud moments, a quality not often seen in documentary releases. Fans of these tremendous talents are sure to enjoy everything that's on offer here, while those unfamiliar with their work can savor an excellent introduction to two of the movie industry's formidable creative teams, as well as an array of film classics well worth seeing. In an age where cinema has been experiencing its share of letdowns, it's heartening to see a showcase for the repertoire of what truly great filmmakers are capable of, giving avid moviegoers hope that this is not a declining artform but one that can be revived, one would hope to match the accomplishments of those who contributed significantly to establishing its richly deserved legacy.

Sci-fi releases that attempt to do something more than the minimum of what's typically expected of them are to be admired for their ambition and creativity. That's especially true when they seek to fuse their subjects and storylines with material drawn from other genres. However, to achieve success at that, the filmmakers behind these projects need to be very precise and diligent in coming up with a mix that works, and, sadly, that's where this offering fails - not by much, mind you, but just enough to characterize it as a well-intentioned near miss. The film follows the diverse, often-surreal experiences of an astronaut (Casey Affleck) on a daring, cutting-edge mission to the Saturnian moon Titan, one that's to be reached via a gravitational slingshot effect around Jupiter that will propel the craft to its destination at an accelerated speed. That consideration aside, though, the journey is nevertheless a lengthy one, requiring the protagonist and his crew mates (Laurence Fishburne, Tomer Capone) to be placed in drug-induced hibernation for vast stretches of the trip, a tricky proposition given the potential side effects of these powerful substances. This blend of story elements thus sets up the characters for an odyssey (ironically, the name of their ship) fraught with strange dreams, hallucinations and other unexpected developments, particularly when the spacecraft is mysteriously damaged, placing completion of the mission in jeopardy and affecting the psychological stability of the crew. Matters become further complicated when our hero begins having visions of his romantic interest (and one of the ship's designers) (Emily Beecham) aboard the craft. So what is exactly going on here? That's what director Mikael Hafstrom seeks to explain, though it's far from an easy task. While the picture has its moments of intelligence and even poetic insights, it nevertheless struggles with a narrative and screenplay that become a little too convoluted for their own good. The writing, unfortunately, isn't completely capable of fulfilling its intent, often taking the long way around to connect the dots and involving material that could have used some cleaning up to attain its goal (such as (ironically enough) using some "slingshot" shortcuts to move the story along instead of getting bogged down in plodding, elaborate attempts at explanation). Some will also note the many thematic similarities between this offering and "Spaceman," released earlier this year (though, admittedly, there are enough distinct tonal differences and plot devices to adequately distinguish the two films and keep them from being labeled copycats). And then rhere's the production's tendency to push the limits of appropriate on-screen violence, verging on becoming a little too gratuitous though never actually crossing the line of acceptability (despite coming precariously close on occasion). Regrettably, these shortcomings detract somewhat from some of the picture's genuinely fine attributes, such as some gorgeous special effects, a simple but smart production design, solid performances and a catchy soundtrack. It's truly a shame that those elements noted above don't match the level of these qualities; had "Slingshot" done so, this would have been a stellar release in the same vein as offerings like "Solaris" (2002) and "2001: A Space Odyssey" (1968) instead of becoming a largely forgettable sci-fi also-ran, a destiny with which it's ultimately likely to be saddled.

Escaping tyranny to find a better life is a process frequently riddled with challenges, frustrations and desperate measures. So, when refugees hear about an allegedly credible way to more easily escape their circumstances and make their way to freedom, they often enthusiastically jump at the chance to avail themselves of the opportunity. Such was the case in 2021 with the supposedly unblemished promise accorded the "green border" crossing from Belarus into Poland, a port of entry into the European Union said to offer a comparatively less problematic escape route for those fleeing the Middle East and Africa. However, given that neither nation wanted to deal with a flood of refugees at the time, combined with swirling rumors that the new arrivals posed a serious security threat to the well-being of a conservatively governed Poland, the border patrol guards in both countries engaged in an aggressive campaign of brutally rounding up and unceremoniously dumping escapees back and forth on each other's territory, repeatedly subjecting those caught in the middle to inhumane treatment and unspeakable perils with each switch, a practice little known outside the region at the time. This latest offering from acclaimed writer-director Agnieszka Holland sheds light on what happened during this turbulent time, a troubling scenario that, despite some significant reforms in the wake of the Russia-Ukraine War, still continues to this day. The film explores this scenario through four interwoven story threads showing the impact of the green border on the lives of refugees, border guards, activists seeking to assist refugees in transit, and everyday citizens looking to make a difference in Polish government policies and practices. The picture's superbly crafted narrative and poignant screenplay provide an excellent, in-depth examination of the connections involving these four constituencies through a well-integrated combination of engaging, emotion-filled sequences and its captivating, edge-of-the-seat treatment of the principals' diverse yet linked experiences. However, given the subject matter and its gritty, realistic depiction, sensitive viewers should be aware that this release can be a difficult watch at times. Nevertheless, despite its cinematic candor, this offering is also riveting in holding viewing attention, quite an achievement for a film with a 2:32:00 runtime, an artistic accomplishment largely made possible by its fine performances across the board and its stunning black-and-white cinematography. At the risk of overstatement, "Green Border" is handily one of the most important releases of 2024, one that should be on every cinephile's must watch list for its hard-hitting impact and eye-opening revelations, disclosures that anyone with a conscience should find impossible to ignore.

Combining all of the elements that go into making a fine film and blending the various ingredients in just the right proportions is akin to the practice of crafting a fine wine - and quite an irony here given the subject matter of this engaging cinematic biography of Barbe Nicole Ponsardin Clicquot (1777-1866) (Haley Bennett), the French winemaker who became better known as "the Grand Dame of Champagne." Having inherited the business of her husband, François (Tom Sturridge), after this death, she vowed to continue operating the winery, carrying on his vision for innovation in the face of stiff competition from the rival Moet organization. But doing so was quite the challenge in light of financial difficulties, vintage failures, the questionable business practices of competitors, the responsibility of raising a young daughter (Cecily Cleeve) as a single mother, onerous operating conditions during the Napoleonic Era and the profound doubts of others (most notably her skeptical sexist father-in-law, Philippe (Ben Miles)) about whether a woman could successfully run an organization like this. Director Thomas Napper's latest chronicles the Widow Clicquot's inventive efforts to address these issues, as well as her ambitious initiatives to live up to the dreams of her late husband, in large part with the assistance of her loyal distributor, Louis (Sam Riley). In telling this story, the filmmaker seamlessly blends challenging events of everyday operations with flashbacks of a more personal nature, exploring the heartfelt feelings that provided the basis for the Clicquot philosophy of winemaking. The picture's superbly crafted narrative and screenplay, combined with exquisite period piece production values and excellent performances (particularly Bennett in one of her best on-screen portrayals), make for an involving, multifaceted watch. Admittedly, there are times in the second half where the story meanders somewhat, and some may find that this release gets a little too detailed when discussing the technical particulars of vinification. However, much of this offering is evenly balanced, effectively holding viewer interest about a subject that's not especially common in the annals of filmmaking. What's more, though, on a more philosophical level, this release celebrates the inherent joy and passion involved in the act of creating, ideas applicable to the manifestation of any artform, be it wine or painting or whatever else we're capable of envisioning and bringing into being. And, if that's not worth drinking a toast to, I don't know what is.

When everything gets taken away from one's life, it must be nearly impossible to find something that provides a reason to carry on. So it is for the incarcerated, individuals faced with an uncertain future of indeterminate duration. And, under conditions as difficult as these, realistically speaking, one can't help but wonder whether rehabilitation will actually pan out as a viable option. But, for some, there's hope through a seemingly unlikely source - the arts, as chronicled in this fact-based drama about the participants in the inmate theater program at New York's Sing Sing maximum security prison. With a cast featuring both professional actors and current and former members of this gifted incarcerated troupe, viewers witness the highs and lows of these men as they strive to bring meaning - and hope - to their time behind bars. Director Greg Kwedar's second feature provides an up-close look at the lives of these aspiring actors, both in terms of their on-stage pursuits and their everyday lives under conditions most of us probably can't even begin to imagine. While the picture's narrative is admittedly a little thin and meandering at times, that's more than made up for in the film's superb performances, led by Colman Domingo, Clarence Maclin, Paul Raci and Sean San Jose, who, like virtually everyone else in this fine ensemble, bring an unmatched depth to their characters and interpersonal relationships, easily among the best work in these areas that I've seen in quite some time. In doing so, this offering also takes audiences on a rollercoaster ride of emotions, from uplifting joys to heartfelt disappointments, revealing the tremendous strength of character driving these individuals. That's particularly poignant knowing that many of those in this production can relate to their circumstances from firsthand experience, thereby infusing this release with a level of unabridged authenticity seldom seen on the big screen. For its efforts, "Sing Sing" stands a good chance of being one of 2024's awards season contenders, especially in the acting categories, showing us what's possible when we allow our passions to surface for their own sake, especially when we have nothing to lose by doing so, a genuine source of inspiration from whom we might least likely expect it.

In moviemaking, sadly, there can be a problem with going to the well too many times, and this latest installment in one of filmdom's better cinematic franchises verges on proving just that. This offering's predecessors (2016, 2018) significantly distinguished themselves from the kind of fare typically found in the superhero genre with their outrageously bawdy humor, hilarious sight gags and relentlessly maverick attitude. This time out, however, director Shawn Levy's latest effort is a decidedly hit or miss affair, with an often-incoherent script that feels like it was cobbled together from a collection of leftover parts, some of which work and some of which don't. I suppose that's not entirely surprising from a screenplay that was penned by four different writers, making me wonder how much consensus was in place in compiling the finished product. Moreover, this film appears to be intended to fold the Deadpool franchise into the X-Men franchise, an intriguing idea that, regrettably, is handled rather clumsily (as has often been the case with many other recent fusion offerings in the Marvel Universe). And, if all that weren't bad enough, this release gives short shrift to the colorful cast of supporting players that made the Deadpool films so funny, original and enjoyable, relegating them to little more than cameos in favor of walk-ons by a host of other MCU characters (some of them remarkably obscure, I might add) in an attempt to help cement the franchise cross-pollination going on here. It makes for awkward storytelling at times, especially for viewers who might not be familiar with these lesser-known figures, some of which are drawn from Marvel source material unrelated to its big screen offerings. To the picture's credit, it features yet another stellar turn by Ryan Reynolds as the off-color protagonist, as well as its share of hilarious bits (without a doubt the franchise's historically strongest suit), including a number of unabashed, razor-sharp asides referencing off-screen developments related to the studios that produced these films and the actors who have appeared in them. These strengths notwithstanding, however, this is a production that has sadly watered down the elements that best made this franchise work in favor of an overarching programming agenda that simply doesn't serve this film or the series particularly well. The creators would have served themselves and viewers better by sticking with what works and the basics of good storytelling than trying to force an issue for the sake of future productions that may or may not work over the long term. This has been a noticeable downfall in the quality of many of the most recent Marvel Universe releases, and I'd truly hate to see this franchise befall a similar fate.

In the interest of full disclosure, I must confess that this long-delayed sequel to its 1996 blockbuster predecessor is not nearly as awful or hokey as I thought it would be. As a prototypical summertime popcorn movie, director Lee Isaac Chung's latest hits every item on the checklist of requirements for what such a release should do, and, in that sense, it's admittedly rather fun - to a point. With that said, however, there's only so much belief that one can realistically suspend while watching this often-preposterous tale, one that frequently pushes the limits of silliness and credibility. As expected, the tornadoes are the real stars of this picture (and, arguably, justifiably so), while the film's clichéd, largely monodimensional characters and often-clunky, highly implausible narrative take a dutiful back seat to what clearly (and deservedly) lies front and center. That's not to say these other elements are completely overshadowed, but their inherently predictable qualities and general lack of imagination fail to set this film apart as something genuinely different, particularly from its precursor. That dearth of innovation is especially apparent, for example, where good ole boy storm chaser Tyler Owens (Glen Powell) is concerned, whose testosterone-soaked persona makes him look more like a reckless, simple-minded yokel than a character to be legitimately taken seriously as someone who might actually know something about cutting-edge meteorology. At the same time, though, by employing these qualities where Powell's character is concerned, I'd contend that maybe the film should have played them up more, transforming this offering into more of a campy romp, an approach that might have helped to distinguish the picture more than haplessly trying to make it into something to be taken so seriously. In any event, "Twisters" may not be the disaster that it could have been, but, as disaster movies go, it could have been better with a little less predictability, a lot less cliché and considerably more originality.

Ever watch a movie that isn't what it should have been? Such is the case with writer-director Amei Wallach's third feature documentary, which is supposed to be an account of the US government-backed campaign to capture the grand prize for painting at the 1964 Venice Biennale, the world's most influential art exhibition. The thinking behind this effort was to showcase the supposedly superior nature of the nation's art and culture, one in a series of comparable American propaganda initiatives aimed at winning over the hearts and minds of the citizens of the world at the height of the Cold War. The plan here was to secure top honors for the works of artist Robert Rauschenbach (1925-2008), one of the most influential innovators of the emerging pop art movement, who was best known at the time for his "combines," three-dimensional creations that straddled the line between painting and sculpture. This venture thus helped enable the US to become a major player on the international arts scene and did much to change the ways that fine art was exhibited, marketed and appreciated. The problem with this film, though, is that it frequently deviates from its stated intent; its unfocused storyline often jumps about wildly, straying from the thrust of the narrative. In fact, the picture actually works best - and ultimately would have worked better overall - as a biography of Rauschenbach. Indeed, that's the story that should have been told here, given that the artist's life and career are far more interesting than this largely anemic chronicle of the exhibition, a tale that often comes across as scattered, shallow, gossipy and not especially insightful. In short, this is a project that should have been significantly retooled right from the outset. While a segment about the Biennale certainly should have been included as part of such a hypothetical production, there's not enough worthwhile material to make it into a standalone work of its own (at least based on what's presented here). A biography of the artist, on the other hand, would have made for a release worth watching, especially since 'Taking Venice" frequently veers off onto tangents about its principal that are much more engaging than what the film is supposed to be about. In watching this offering, I was reminded of an anecdote I heard in one of my journalism school classes: A cub reporter was assigned to cover a speech by a public official but returned from the event with nothing to report. When his editor asked him about it, the young journalist said there was no story to tell, because the official didn't give his talk, having been shot by a gunman in the audience. Now there's a message the filmmaker here obviously should have taken to heart.

Few Hollywood productions have been as utterly prescient as director Sidney Lumet's cinematic masterpiece "Network" (1976), a chillingly serious satire about the television business in the 1970s and where it was ultimately headed in years to come. Written by TV pioneer Paddy Chayefsky, this winner of four Oscars on 10 total nominations provides a comical but cynically disturbing look inside the workings of a fictitious American television network. In telling this story, the film eerily forecast the direction this medium would take in the decades that followed with remarkable accuracy, stunningly predicting such developments as the tabloidization of TV, the consolidation of media ownership, the impact of foreign influence and investment, and the dumbing down, sensationalism and line-blurring of its content in both its entertainment and journalistic programming. It also nailed developments outside the television business with great clarity by focusing on the pivotal role that TV played (and would come to play) in those occurrences. And, even though it's something of a nostalgic time capsule of the period in which it was filmed, the picture has held up remarkably well, even unwittingly providing viewers with an ironic and unsettling metaphor for the ubiquitous rise of social media (with TV serving as a stunningly fitting stand-in). Chayefsky's Academy Award-winning script is positively brilliant, epitomizing what good screenwriting can (and should) be. And its casting is about as good as it gets, earning Oscars for the performances of Faye Dunaway, Peter Finch and Beatrice Straight, along with well-deserved nominations for William Holden and Ned Beatty and noteworthy accolades for Robert Duvall and Marlene Warfield. In fact, I'm stunned that this offering lost out to "Rocky" for best picture and that nominee Lumet was passed over for the best director award. Those oversights aside, however, I was nevertheless privileged to view this offering at a retrospective screening in honor of the filmmaker's 100th birthday to a nearly sold-out audience. I'm pleased to see that this celluloid gem still garners so much viewer attention nearly 50 years after its release and that it's attracting the interest of moviegoers of all ages. This is an absolute must-see for avid cinephiles, as well as highly recommended viewing for anyone who truly wants a poignant, insightful look at what's truly going on in the world around them, particularly when it comes to the workings of said world and the selective filtering of information about it. "Network" just might deservedly open a few eyes - and raise quite a few eyebrows at the same time.

Many of us have experienced situations in life that have left us wondering "what might have been," especially in matters of romance. And sometimes these scenarios can linger in our psyche for a lifetime, gnawing away at us and potentially leaving us with feelings of profound regret. Some of us, though, vow not to succumb to such disappointment, taking action to resolve these matters before it's too late. Such is the case of a 75-year-old Icelandic man (Egill Ólafsson) suffering from the onset of dementia during the early days of the COVID pandemic. With the clock running out, his health faltering and stringent quarantine measures being put into place, he's nevertheless desperate to learn what happened to the love of his life, a beautiful young Japanese immigrant (Koki) he met 51 years earlier while his younger self (Pálmi Kormákur) was living in London. After a brief, passionate love affair, she suddenly vanished and returned to Japan without an explanation, an event that has haunted him ever since. He decides to search for her before health and travel restrictions prevent him from doing so, an impulsive journey that takes him back to London and then on to Japan to find out what happened. To say much more would reveal too much about the secrets driving this compelling romance/mystery, suffice it to say, though, that the protagonist's tale is an engaging one, told through an absorbing story line deftly peppered with flashbacks to different points in the characters' lives. In telling this story of love and intrigue, writer-director Baltasar Kormákur presents a colorful mix of genuinely original characters in a variety of circumstances not depicted on the big screen before. Admittedly, the pacing could stand to be stepped up in a few places (an outcome that could have been accomplished with some judicious editing), and further enhancement of the back story and character development might have provided more meaningful depth to the overall narrative. However, given the captivating trail of bread crumbs that the filmmaker doles out for viewers, this heartfelt release leaves audience members continually wondering what's coming next. And, in doing so, the picture serves up a number of little-known, eye-opening cultural revelations that add spice and diversity to a genre that seldom ventures into such unfamiliar territory, an objective carried out with a tremendous sense of warmth without becoming unduly sentimental. In my view, this is the picture that the vastly overrated "Past Lives" (2023) was trying to be (and could have been), one that entertains, enlightens and educates all at the same time while providing audiences with a tale that's sure to tug at the heartstrings - and shows us how "what might have been" could have actually been brought into being.

When testing a new technology, one might realistically think that its creators should be able to evaluate its effectiveness after a reasonable number of evaluations, such as, say, several dozen trial runs. But, if that's genuinely the case, then why did it take American nuclear weapons developers 928 tests to do figure out that their devices indeed worked? That's not an unreasonable question, but it's one of many such issues raised in this often-shocking documentary from directors Douglas Brian Miller and Mark Shapiro. According to the film, between 1951 and 1992, the US government detonated 100 aboveground and 828 underground nuclear weapons at the Nevada Nuclear Testing Grounds, with fallout from these blasts spreading downwind from the detonation site (and not just in the immediate vicinity). This relentless onslaught of tests thus earned the US the dubious distinction of having experienced the heaviest bombardment of atomic devices on the planet. This weapons research subsequently affected a wide range of the population, from resident Native Americans to Hollywood movie crews working in nearby desert filming locales to average citizens far removed from the site of the explosions, nearly all of whom were disparagingly and uncaringly looked upon as expendable "for the sake of national security." The resulting widespread environmental damage and devastating public health effects are still being felt to this day, ramifications that are likely to be around for many, many years to come. And, to add insult to injury, through a carefully orchestrated campaign of propaganda and disinformation, the public has been misled for decades regarding the severity of this calamity. The film details all of these issues, both on the macro level and in a variety of personal case studies, through a variety of recent interviews and a wealth of archive material (including a number of now-laughable government-sponsored films), all narrated by actor Martin Sheen. While the contents of a few of this documentary's segments could have been a little better organized, the magnitude of these troubling revelations is quite astounding, particularly in terms of how much this story has been downplayed and the extent of lies that have been systemically perpetrated over the years. And don't become complacent in thinking that this is all in the past: The film reveals that present-day proponents of this type of testing would like to see the current moratorium against them ended in favor of a new round of experiments. And, if that's not unsettling enough to get our attention, I don't know what is. Do watch this.

Alternative "family" structures have been around for some time now, and they've assumed a variety of forms, both domestically and overseas, as well as in their essential composition. And, in a number of cases, it has taken some trial and error to figure out what works best for these diverse groupings, depending on the various factors that characterize the individuals involved. Such is the case in this profile of a multi-ethnic, mostly LGBTQ+ household in Skopje, North Macedonia that struggles to find a harmonious footing when stricken by a tragedy involving a family matriarch (Alina Serban). Those left behind (Anamaria Marinca, Vladimir Tintor, Samson Selim) must figure out how to regroup, particularly when it comes to the care of a belligerent adolescent (Mia Mustafa) and her sweet, young, surprisingly worldly half-sister (Dzada Selim). It's especially challenging for those in charge, given that they're not terribly experienced at (nor overly interested in) the responsibility for such matters. They truly find themselves engaged in a crash course of "housekeeping for beginners," one that finds them with one foot each in the middle class world of Skopje and in the impoverished world of nearby Shutka, an enclave of Roma (a.k.a. "Gypsy") culture. Writer-director Goran Stolevski's third feature outing provides an intriguing look at life in locales that have not received much cinematic attention, depicted through the eyes of an eclectic mix of characters living lives far different from what one typically finds in most conventional households. This domestic comedy-drama gets off to a somewhat rocky start, mainly due to a failure in identifying the nature of the relationships among the principals, and a narrative that can be rather episodic at times, with resolutions to its multiple story threads that feel incomplete or end abruptly (most notably in the final act). Viewers probably would have benefitted from some additional information about the ethnic backgrounds of the characters, too, given that many viewers are likely unfamiliar with the cultures involved. However, once the picture starts settling down and finding its rhythm, this release definitely gets stronger and more involving as it progresses, touching audiences profoundly, given that the situations that arise are often universal in nature, no matter what structure a family unit takes. "Housekeeping for Beginners" definitely has its strengths and touching moments; it's a little disappointing, though, that there aren't more of them. Greater clarification and consistency in the storytelling would have done this offering a world of good in its depiction of a world otherwise seldom seen.