Siddhant Adlakha

A zesty, energetic biopic about a teenage Anthony Bourdain, Matt Johnson’s second film this year is an act of controlled chaos, tapping into the nostalgia of naïve youth while examining how creativity is born. Led by an incredible ensemble, its imperfect answers make for one of the finest and thorniest coming-of-age films in recent years. It’s a blast.

A slick, dialogue-free action saga, Motor City rests on the dialed-in body language and emotional sincerity of actor Alan Ritchson as a wrongly imprisoned man gunning for a skeevy Ben Foster. As familiar formulas go, that’s more than enough to keep it afloat, even if its music choices fall on the wrong side of obvious.

Fatherland may find refinement through restraint, but its static frames contain the weight and movement of history, making it feel, in its strongest moments, monumental and poetic.

It is, in a word, lovely.

Despite an ending that fizzles out, Hollywood remake The Invite is an enjoyably nerve-racking domestic comedy-drama, and Olivia Wilde’s strongest directorial effort.

Part modern mob movie, part period biopic, the star-studded In the Hand of Dante has big ideas that completely fail to cohere.

The movie delivers subtext aplenty, overflowing in ways that help overcome its reserved exterior and make for an unobtrusive comedy-drama that, on occasion, comes close to working.

It’s the rare movie whose every artistic intention can be easily identified, but whose emotional effects are never discovered.

Through its exploration of spaces rarely put to film, the movie urges a more thoughtful meditation on our fraught link to nature and to the world at large, collapsing past and present into a single point on screen.

The film is one of homespun naturalism, but Atlan also exhibits immense formal control.