Maria Garcia

Hellsgård’s direction undermines the ritual and portent of Eva’s actions, but the excellent performances nevertheless convey their significance.

It is when Paounov reveals Christo’s leonine qualities that Walking on Water achieves a rare authenticity.

Weçel’s documentary is aimed at broadening the audience for “Loving Vincent,” yet it is also a wonderful tribute to the vision and craft of independent moviemaking.

The issues they confront are not new, yet the stories of their radicalization are engaging, and Miller’s deft editing and objective approach result in a surprisingly intimate and life-affirming film.

Bombach’s respectful distance from her subject allows the audience to see in a way that one does watching a Robert Bresson film; in the slowly unfolding narrative, stripped of drama but not of emotion, Nadia’s spirit emerges.

Ross’ debut is scattershot, and lacking in the consistent purpose that articulates a filmmaker’s intent.

Nyoni’s title articulates her uncompromising, feminist stance, and her characterizations of Mr. Banda and the male villagers explain how patriarchy plays out in Zambia, but it is in her sublime direction—lengthy close-ups, clever tableaux and skillful scoring—that the writer-director accomplishes a social critique so cinematic as to defy description.

The simplicity and wonder of Sól’s quest for identity is muddled by pretense, and by circumstances and subplots that are tangential to her.

Marking her feature debut, Frizzell’s direction is competent, but her screenplay, which is semi-autobiographical, is a series of vignettes that narrowly add up to a narrative.

In their trailer, the gift of the religious do-gooder who owns the farm, the exigencies of survival subside, and the quiet brilliance of Foster and McKenzie’s performances surface.