Cody Dericks

Such is the ultimate effect of Disclosure Day, a great film from our greatest director that feels guaranteed to only get better the more people discuss it and mull over its intentions.

Ultimately, the success of Stop! That! Train! comes down to one simple question: Is it funny? And the answer is, mostly, yes. With the high ratio of jokes per minute, not all of them are destined to land, and some gags linger too long, slowing down what should be a breakneck pace. But the bits that do work are genuinely hilarious.

Ben’Imana is a stunning, gorgeously assembled film about a people faced with a level of emotional labor that no one should ideally be forced to surmount.

Much as its main character tries to untangle seemingly impossible conundrums, viewers of The Samurai and the Prisoner will find themselves leaning in and working hard to discern the film’s intriguing details. It’s not a task for those who look to cinema as an escape, requiring aggressive attention from its audience, as all worthwhile art should.

It’s the kind of silly, campy time its intended audience is sure to love, with plenty of moments that evoke joyful applause to accompany the many, many laughs. No matter one’s place in the queer community, and whether or not you’ve set foot in a gym, it’s a guaranteed delight.

It’s an honest, melancholy tale that pushes against the typical idea of the saintlike sufferer, instead portraying the central character as a credibly flawed individual. And just as he always does, Ira Sachs rejects stereotypes and expectations to deliver something that feels candidly close to life.

It’s a brilliant concept for an historical film, but the way Marre tells his relatives’ unheroic story would’ve been better served by a more discerning eye on the film’s runtime.

The film seems disinterested in carrying on any discussion itself, even in an obtuse way. Perhaps that’s the idea: that we’re meant to completely project our assessment onto the film rather than follow nonexistent leads from Harari as to his intention. But ultimately, the film is too vacant, too aimless, and worst of all, too dull to inspire much worthwhile discussion.

It’s a mean, nasty neo-giallo, filled with the genre’s standards: gorgeously odd visuals, colorful lighting, disparate performance qualities, questionable morals, and brutal moments of sudden violence. To those who are prepared for it and willing to go hand in hand with Refn on his colorful, nonsensical journey, it’s an adventure to be remembered, like a nightmare that leaves an indelible mark on the psyche.

It’s not an easy watch, intentionally so, but Herry delivers a shockingly buoyant, propulsive film about the perils and pitfalls of addiction.