A film director (Jafar Panahi) gets into trouble while secretly making a film in an Iranian village bordering Turkey. Local villagers accuse him of taking a photograph of a bride and the groom whom she's not supposed to marry because she's been promised to marry another man since birth, but he maintains his innocence.

      No Bears transcends genre because it's not quite a thriller nor a satire or character study per se. Writer/director Jafar Panahi blurs the line between reality and fiction from the get-go with an opening scene that turns out to be a scene from one of his films that Reza (Reza Heydari) is shooting. Panahi directs that film remotely from his laptop computer. After losing contact with Reza because of poor WiFi connection, he seeks better WiFi connection by climbing to the roof of the building on a ladder. Someone warns him that his neighbors might assume that he's a peeping tom if they see him. Soon after, he shoots a photo of a group of kids, but the audience doesn't see him shoot the aforementioned photo of the bride and groom that he's accused of taking. He repeatedly denies taking the photo. Meanwhile, some tension arises as he struggles to make a new film while reunited with Reza. He takes a huge risk by walking near the border of Turkey and Iran--he even stands right on the border. The suspense during those night time scenes aren't palpable; this isn't an edge-of-your-seat suspense thriller. It's understated and gentle, like the very brief comic relief that's peppered throughout the film. Darker elements like murders are kept off-camera and to the audience's imagination, mostly. As the film progresses, it becomes increasingly evident that Panahi has to find a way to escape the country like the characters in one of his films desperately need to as well.

      Jafar Panahi keeps everything natural and organic without any overly-stylish cinematography or set design. Occasionally, you might feel like you're watching a documentary. The performances are just as natural with no one over-acting. The scene shot at night when Jafar meets Reza by the border is the most foreboding one with poetic visuals, but, for the most part, there's nothing that stands out about the film on an aesthetic level. He wisely avoids the use of shaky cam to add tension, so he clearly knows that tension comes from the plot and the characters' interactions. The bears referred to in the title can be taken as literal or metaphorical because someone tells Jafar about bears that come out at night in the Iranian village before he tells him later that there are no bears and that it's just a myth. Fortunately, the metaphor of the bears isn't heavy-handed nor is anything heavy-handed at all throughout the film. At a running time of 1 hour and 47 minutes, No Bears is provocative, engrossing and captivating.

      Junhee (Lee Hye-yeong), a novelist, visits the bookstore of her old friend, Sewon (Seo Younghwa), who used to be a novelist himself. She also interacts filmmaker friend, Park Hyo-jin (Kwon Hae-hyo), Later, at a park, she bumps into an actress, Kilsoo (Kim Min-Hee), who introduces her to a filmmaker, Gyeong-woo (Ha Seong-guk). Junhee wants to write a story for Gyeong-woo and Kilsoo to turn into a film.

      Writer/director Hong Sang-soo has a knack for writing nuanced and tender stories that somehow involve filmmakers and filmmaking. His films are laidback and more than the sum of their parts because there's not much of a plot, but a lot going in spite of that. In The Novelist's Film, he still hasn't lost that knack. The plot seems aimless on the surface, but there's substance beneath it, much like in Eric Rohmer's cerebral films. It's tempting to say that "nothing happens" since there's no action, no villains, no  loud arguments or big twists. This isn't the kind of movie that relies on twists, suspense or anything over-the-top. Like with most of his films, Hong Song-soo keeps everything understated and natural. He has a great ear for dialogue that sounds true-to-life. As Hitchock once wisely stated, some films are a slice-of-life while others are a slice-of-cake. There's very little cake in The Novelist's Film. It's mostly a slice-of-life that trusts your intelligence, patience and emotions. It gradually rewards your patience as you become more and more engrossed and enchanted with these characters who feel like fully-fleshed human beings. There are even some brief moments of comic relief that will surprise you, so there are, indeed, surprises, but they're small ones that you'll appreciate because they help the film to avoid turning monotonous and dry.

      All of the performances are natural and reflect the nuanced screenplay. It's also worth mentioning the mesmerizing black-and-white cinematography with a few instances of color toward the end. Those moments of color are a little surprising at first, but they're not distracting. The fact that he keeps the running time of less than 2 hours shows that he has restraint as a filmmaker. At a running time of 1 hour and 32 minutes, The Novelist's Film is wispy, nuanced and enchanting.

      Raphaël (Raphaël Thiéry) returns to his French village after serving in World War I and discovers that his wife has died and that Madame Adeline (Noémie Lvovsky) has been taking care of Juliette, his infant daughter. She lets him and Juliette stay with her while finding him work. As a young woman, Juliette (Juliette Jouan) meets a witch (Yolande Moreau) who predicts that she'll see a ship with red sails that will whisk her away from her village. Soon enough, she falls in love with a pilot Jean (Louis Garrel) whose plane falls from the sky.

      Loosely based on the novel Scarlet Sails by Alexander Grin, the screenplay by writer/director Pietro Marcello and his co-writers, Maurizio Braucci, Geneviève Brisac and Maud Ameline, focuses on Raphaël as he returns from the war before shifting to Juliette's perspective. Part coming-of-age story, part romance, part fairy tale, Scarlet isn't an easy film to describe in terms of its plot. Not a lot happens on screen and even during a tragic turn that makes the film a little darker, the tragic event is merely referred to without being shown. Admittedly, the tone feels a little uneven. At times, it's whimsical, bizarre and offbeat while other times it's trying to be serious and poignant. Tonal whiplash ensues around the hour mark. It almost becomes schmaltzy, but not quite. There's even a random musical scene thrown in that's lively and imaginative, but also clunky. The relationship between Raphaël and Madame Adeline feels more organic and fascinating than the somewhat sweet, but dull relationship between Juliette and Jean. The screenplay's systemic flaw, though, is that it bites off more than it could chew with too many characters, some of whom are underdeveloped, like the witch who seems like she's merely there as a plot device rather than as a fully-fleshed character. The same can be said about Juliette who remains at a cold distance from the audience.

      Scarlet's major strengths include its breathtaking scenery and exquisite cinematography with great use of color and lighting that provides some visual style and poetry. Its style becomes part of its substance more often than not. Then there's the terrific cast of actors who know how to breathe life into their role and to rise above the screenplay with a sense of naturalism. Juleiite Joaun and Raphaël Thiéry very well-cast and give convincingly moving performance, so the film's modicum of poignancy comes from her performance, not from the screenplay.Noémie Lvovsky, as usual, exudes warm and charisma. The pace moves slowly at times, so director/co-writer Pietro Marcello trusts the audience's patience. If the film were over 2 hours, it would've overstayed its welcome. At a running time of 1 hour and 40 minutes, Scarlet is a well-shot, well-acted and poetic fairy tale, but tonally uneven, overstuffed and slightly sugar-coated.
  

      Jodi Kantor (Zoe Kazan) and Megan Twohey (Carey Mulligan), journalists for the New York Times, investigate sexual assault claims against Harvey Weinstein. They report back to their superior, New York Times executive editor Dean Baquet (Andre Braugher) while they try to find Harvey's victims to get statements on record from them.

      Based on a widely-known true story, the screenplay by Rebecca Lenkiewicz follows the investigative reporting of Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey in a dry, procedural fashion. The plot mainly focuses on the two journalists while they're at work with very little emphasis on their life at home with their family. You don't learn much about their backstories or what makes them so brave. She Said follows in the footsteps of All the President's Men, but without the slow-burning suspense and emotional depth found in that classic 70's thriller by Alan J. Pakula. For a movie about women being abused and dehumanized, it's ironic that the film does a poor job of humanizing any of the female characters. Jodi and Megan aren't even given much of a personality nor is their friendship explored. They're the least interesting characters, too. The most interesting ones are the victims themselves, i.e. Laura Madden (Jennifer Ehle) and Zelda Perkins (Samantha Morton). Not surprisingly, Harvey Weinstein (who's only shown once facing away from the audience) denies everything and hires a lawyer to represent him. This isn't the kind of movie that shows both sides of the battle; it's only about the heroic journalists and victims without even trying to show Harvey Weinstein's perspective. Yes, he's a monster, but he's human concurrently. There's also no scenes with Ronan Farrow who's very significant in exposing the truth about Harvey Weinstein through his New Yorker article. He's mentioned briefly, but that's all. She Said remains limited in scope, conventional and not quite as biting as it could've been with a sharper and bolder screenplay. The third act feels underwhelming and anticlimactic because it ends just when the case against Harvey Weinstein was the strongest, so you don't even get to see Harvey's downfall.

      Carey Mulligan and Zoe Kazan give fine performances as do Patricia Clarkson and Andre Braugher who portray their superiors at the New York Times. The best performances, though, come from the supporting roles: Samantha Morton and Jennifer Ehle. Their scenes are the most powerful moments of the film and help to add much-needed poignancy in an otherwise dull film. There's nothing exceptional when it comes to the cinematography, lighting or set design; there's not much style here like there is in the far superior All the President's Men. Also, it's too brightly lit more often than not as though the filmmakers were too scared to make the movie feel gritty, so it looks more like a made-for-TV movie instead. Even Spotlight has better cinematography and editing. At a running time of 2 hours and 15 minutes, She Said is mildly engaging and only occasionally moving, but too dry, shallow and pedestrian to pack an emotional punch.

      Lizzy (Michelle Williams), a sculptor, prepares for her art show where she'll exhibit her work. She struggles to balance her time with her mother, Jean (Maryann Plunkett), father, Bill (Judd Hirsch), and mentally ill brother, Sean (John Magaro), while taking care of a pigeon that her landlord/friend Jo (Hong Chau) had rescued.

      Everyone in the screenplay by writer/director Kelly Reichardt and co-writer Jonathan Raymond happens to be involved in the art world. Lizzy's mother teaches art, Lizzy works as a sculptor, her brother and Jo are artists, and her father is a retired sculptor. However, Showing Up has very little to say that's interesting or insightful about art, artists, family or creativity. It doesn't even have much plot or any narrative momentum for that matter. No one has cancer or gets killed, and no one is particularly unlikable. There's also no schmaltz or melodrama either. In other words, Showing Up is a gentle, mildly amusing, harmless and breezy film that's neither emotionally draining nor intellectually demanding.

      Michelle Williams gives a decent performance as does Hong Chau, but Showing Up doesn't really give them much to chew on. They've all been in more moving, complex and powerful films, especially Hong Chau who's in The Whale. They're both charismatic actresses, but their charisma feels a bit muted here. The pace moves too slowly at times, so lethargy seeps in around the hour mark. At a running time of 1 hour and 48 minutes, which feels more like 3 hours, Showing Up is dull, tedious and slight. It's ultimately less than the sum of its parts.
  

      Trish (Margaret Qualley), a journalist, moonlights as a hooker to make ends meet while on an assignment in Nicaragua. At a hotel bar, she meets and begins a romance with Daniel (Joe Alwyn), a young man who claims that he works for an oil company.

      Based on the novel by Denis Johnson, the screenplay by writer/director Claire Denis and co-writers Léa Mysius and Andrew Litvack is a mess that squanders many opportunities to turn the film into a romance, thriller or even an engaging character study. Despite the mystery surrounding Daniel's true identity and the corruption that Trish investigates in Nicaragua, Stars at Noon generates very little intrigue and suspense. The plot loses steam early on around the 30-minute mark and doesn't regain any of it at any other point. The relationship between Trish and Daniel becomes less and less interesting as it progresses. They have sex, talk, have sex, talk and then have sex again. Even when Trish learns that Daniel's life might be in danger, the plot remains lethargic with only a few sporadic moments of mildly engaging scenes. There's also just one brief instant of comic relief when Trish communicates with her magazine editor (John C. Reilly) via Skype and he's very forward about how much he can't stand her and wants nothing to do with her. The audience feels the same way but for different reasons: she's a boring character with a bland personality. It's often easier to get inside a character's head while reading a book and much more difficult to do that while watching a movie. To accomplish that, it takes a skilled screenwriter that knows how to see and treat the character as a human being. Unfortunately, the screenwriters fail to construct enough of a window into the heart, mind and soul of Trish, so they dehumanize her while leaving the audience cold. Daniel doesn't fare any better. The screenplay also breaks a pretty big rule when it comes to storytelling: don't introduce a new character late in the game. Guess what? Stars at Noon does precisely that later in the third act when Trish and Daniel meet a CIA agent (Benny Safdie). By then, neither the plot nor the characters are compelling enough to hold your interest, so it's hard to care about what happens to anyone on screen or what new twists will transpire within the plot.

      Margaret Qualley gives a decent performance, but it's nothing exceptional. She's undermined by the shallow screenplay that fails to breathe life into her role. The same goes for Joe Alywn who lacks chemistry with Margaret Qualley. There are many sex scenes with nudity, so this is definitely a film for adults. It's too bad, then, that there's physical nakedness on screen, but not much emotional nakedness. Blue is the Warmest Color is a better example of a film that combines nudity and sex with poignancy in a much more organic and effective way. Although the film is set in Nicaragua, the setting doesn't become enough of a character in and of itself, even once the film veers into a brief adventure through the jungle. Moreover, this is yet another film that overstays its welcome past the 2 hour mark and, in turn, becomes a chore to sit through. Yes, in case you're wondering where the title comes from, there's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it scene where you'll see stars in the sky at noontime. What that means in terms of its symbolic meaning remains the film's most thought-provoking mystery that's left for interpretation. At a running time of 2 hours and 18 minutes, Stars at Noon is an anemic, meandering and overlong bore that's neither gripping, intriguing nor emotionally engrossing. 

      Lydia Tár (Cate Blanchett), the chief conductor of a German Orchestra, gets caught in a scandal that threatens to end her successful career and her upcoming book launch. She lives with her partner, Sharon (Nina Hoss), and has an assistant, Francesca (Noémie Merlant), at work.

      Tár is a mesmerizing psychological study of a tyrant's downfall. The screenplay by writer/director Todd Field opens with an interview between a host and Lydia Tár which makes it clear that she's at the top of her career, very famous and, most importantly, very full of herself. She's an arrogant, stubborn, myopic, determined perfectionist who lets no one get in her way or disagree with her. In other words, she's a textbook narcissist. On the surface, she appears strong and confident, but, like most narcissists, she's wearing many masks. On the inside, she's weak, emotionally immature and lonely. Perhaps she even hates herself. Field offers no voice-over narration, but what he does offer are many private moments with Lydia Tár where her masks get unraveled gradually and you can grasp what she's thinking and feeling. Even though she's unlikable given the way that she treats everyone around her as inferior to her, including Sharon, she's still a human being.

      What remains unclear, though, are which events from her childhood shaped her personality in her adulthood. Was she raised by narcissists? Was she perhaps sexually abused as a child? On the one hand, it's okay to leave some things to interpretation, but Lydia's childhood shouldn't be one of those things that are unexplored. A small hint about her childhood would've been tremendously revealing about her current behavior. Nonetheless, Field does a great job of allowing the audience to get a glimpse of her heart, mind and soul, especially during a provocative, chilling dream sequence which is around that time that the film veers ever so slightly into the realm of psychological thriller. It's an exhilarating emotional journey with an understated ending that will linger in your mind for a while and compel you to re-watch the film.

      There's no denying at this point that Cate Blanchett is among the best actresses of our time. She's up there with the wonderful actresses from the Golden Age of American Cinema like Bette Davis and Joan Crawford. Tár gives Blanchett a huge platform to showcase her tremendous acting talents. She's spellbinding to behold as she sinks her teeth into the role of Lydia Tár so convincingly. You'll forget that you're watching Cate Blanchett. That says everything you need to know about how great she is as an actress. It's her best performance since Blue Jasmine. Nina Hoss also deserves to be commended for a moving and nuanced performance as Lydia's lover, Sharon. The music, sound mix, editing and cinematography are also exquisite. The first few minutes, though, are bizarre, though, because they're just the end credits slowly appearing on the screen. What's the purpose of that other than to subvert your expectations and to be unconventional? That's not very clear and feels distracting, especially since there still are credits at the end of the film. Fortunately, despite a running time of 2 hours and 38 minutes, you barely feel the weight of the long running time. Expect many Oscar nominations.

      Mamie Till (Danielle Deadwyler) lives with her 14-year-old son, Emmett (Jalyn Hall), in Chicago. Emmett spends the summer of 1955 visiting his cousins in Mississippi where he whistles at a white woman, Carolyn Bryant (Haley Bennett), who works at Bryant’s General Store. A few days later, he's found dead in the Tallahatchie River. Mamie seeks justice for her beloved son's brutal murder and lynching.

      Writer/director Chinonye Chukwu and co-writers Michael Reilly and Keith Beauchamp tell the true story of Emmett Till's lynching with a linear, straight-forward plot that doesn't really break any conventions or take any risks. The screenplay seems to be going through the motions as it introduces Emmett's life with his mother in Chicago during the early scenes before he travels to Mississippi where he gets into trouble for whistling at a white woman. Till then focuses on his mother's perspective and her journey to find the truth about what happened to Emmett, who killed and tortured him, and to bring them to justice. She has an uphill battle with the help of Medgar Evans (Tosin Cole), eventually. The filmmakers leave the events that happened to Till when he was tortured and lynched to the audience's imagination. Instead, they show his brutally beating corpse when his mother sees it for the first time. That image alone is emotionally devastating and speaks louder than words. Unfortunately, you never really get to know any of the other characters besides Mamie, but that's okay because her journey to justice is also an emotional journey that humanizes her. You can feel her emotional pain. To be fair, though, this is the kind of film that resorts to heavy-handedness with some preachy dialogue that almost feels cheesy at times. It tries too hard to tug at the audience's heartstrings. It's the equivalent of banging the keys of the piano too hard. You can sense the wheels of the screenplay turning. Nuance and subtlety can't be found here, unfortunately.

      Fortunately, Danielle Deadwyler's emotionally-charged, convincingly moving performance compensates for the conventional, shallow screenplay. The film's poignancy comes from her performance, not from the screenplay. When it comes to the production values, though, they're a little too slick with too much bright lighting that makes it look like a TV movie. Moreover, the music score feels overbearing and distracting at times which is a sign that the filmmakers don't trust the audience's emotions enough. Why try so hard to tell the audience how to feel when they can figure out how to feel through the performances? That said, Mamie Till's speech in the courtroom scene is incredibly powerful, captivating and unforgettable. At a running time of 2 hour and 10 minutes, Till is over-produced, by-the-numbers and heavy-handed, but genuinely heartfelt. It's elevated tremendously by Danielle Deadwyler's breakthrough, Oscar-worthy performance.  

      Carl (Harris Dickinson), a model, goes on a luxurious yacht cruise with his girlfriend, Yaya (Charlbi Dean), a model and social influencer. Other guests on the ship include Jarmo (Henrik Dorsin), Winston (Oliver Ford Davies) and his wife, Clementine (Amanda Walker), Uli (Ralph Schicha) and his wife, Therese, (Iris Berben) and Dimitry (Zlatko Buric) and his wife, Vera (Sunnyi Melles). Among the crew, there's Alicia (Alicia Eriksson) who works under the chief steward, Paula (Vicki Berlin), and Abigail (Dolly De Leon), the toilet manager. The ship's captain, Thomas (Woody Harrelson), must show up for the Captain's Dinner, but he's drunk and refuses to come out of his room no matter how many times Paula tells him to. The guests get immediately stricken with a food-borne illness when the seafood spoils after Vera requests that the crew stop working and take a dip in the pool.

      To describe what happens during the rest of the plot after the guests get food sickness would be to ruin the film's many surprises. Writer/director Ruben Östlund once again hits the ball out of the ballpark with a witty, honest and very funny glimpse of the dark side of human nature. He begins by introducing Carl to the audience through his absurd and shallow experiences as a model. A fashion show has texts on a screen with social commentary that will become more relevant as the film progresses. Then it cuts to an expensive restaurant where he has an argument with Yaya over why she didn't make an effort to pay the bill despite promising to pay for the next meal. Their bickering continues in the hotel and, eventually, on the ship when Yaya flirts with a shirtless member of the crew (Timoleon Gketsos) while they lay out in the sun. A lot happens within the first thirty minutes, and that's even before the guests get sick. Each guest has his or her own unique personality and specialty. They all love to brag about their wealth and success in the world of capitalism.Triangle of Sadness is a black comedy, but with a lot of tragedy beneath the surface. It has a lot to say about capitalism and, occasionally, it's very blunt and unsubtle about its observations, i.e. when the crew chants "Money!" over and over. Other times, it's more subtle and nuanced, like with the look on Dimitry and Carl's face as Yaya and another woman flirt with Jarmo at a bar on the ship.

      Ruben Östlund has a knack for writing dialogue that's organic, full of pith and a wicked sense of humor. There's also a few sight gags that lead to some uncomfortable humor that will make you stop and think about why you're laughing. This isn't an ordinary comedy by any means. Concurrently, he keeps the audience in suspense as the film goes in directions that you least expect it to. Moreover, he trusts their intelligence and imagination to be able to connect the dots because he omits a scene when a crew member gets fired, but it's implied when he's waving goodbye to his coworkers as he's seen being taken off the ship in a speedboat. Without spoiling anything, Triangle of Sadness remains a brilliant, razor-sharp social commentary and a perceptive commentary on human nature even during the third act.

      Every actor and actress, from the lead roles to the supporting roles, is well-cast and gives a wonderful performance with terrific comedic timing. It's hard to choose just one stand-out performance, but if necessary, Dolly De Leon gives a breakthrough performance that's as great as Yalitza Aparicio is in Roma or Hong Chau in Downsizing. Zlatko Buric is also superb. He and Woody Harrelson play off of each other very well during a scene when they're drunk together. If you pay attention, you'll notice many interesting details that provide the film with more depth, i.e the book Ulysses that Carl reads on the ship or an even smaller detail that serves as a foreshadow: the sound of flies on the first day that the guests arrive on the ship. Like in Force Majeure writer/director Ruben Östlund grasps and shows the entire spectrum of human nature from the light side to the dark side. Making the audience laugh while making them think and feel is no easy task, but he accomplishes it with flying colors. At a running time of 2 hours and 30 minutes, Triangle of Sadness is bold, provocative and wickedly funny.

     Women from a Mennonite community gather at a barn to discuss the sexual abuse they're suffering from the men in the community. The women include Ona (Rooney Mara), Salome (Claire Foy), Mariche (Jessie Buckley), Greta (Sheila McCarthy) and Agata (Judith Ivey). Meanwhile, August (Ben Whishaw) listens to their testimonies and takes notes.

      Although not based on a play, Women Talking feels like it could've been. The screenplay by writer/director Sarah Polley is actually based on a novel by Miriam Toews. Roger Ebert once observed that it's much easier to get inside the head of a character by reading a novel than by watching a movie. He's right, but that shouldn't be an issue with a sensitively-written screenplay that humanizes its characters and allows the audience to see them as fully-fleshed human beings. As long as the screenplay provides a window into the characters' heart, mind and soul, you can get inside their head just as easily as you can while reading a novel. Unfortunately, that doesn't quite happen in Women Talking because of the stilted dialogue and too many scenes that feely stuffy and stagey. None of the women explicitly mention the words "sexual abuse" or anything along those lines, so some audiences might be initially wondering, "What are they complaining about? What happened?". Polley's screenplay does a poor job of incorporating exposition. Too much happens that's left up to the audience's imagination, and the dull screenplay doesn't help matters either. There's nothing unflinching about Women Talking; it beats around the bush too often while failing to hit the audience in the emotional gut. Perhaps its systemic problem stems from the source material, but, either way, writer/director Sarah Polley has a responsibility to make it engrossing, captivating and provocative. She doesn't succeed at accomplishing that. Mass is a better example of people coming together to talk about something tragic in a way that does accomplish those amazing feats while finding the Spectacle within the Truth. Women Talking does have some Truth, but not much Spectacle within it. Also, there's not nearly enough comic relief or any kind of levity, so monotony along with lethargy begin to arrive around the hour mark. Therefore, the emotional beats in the third act don't land, leaving the audience feeling cold and underwhelmed.

      The performances range from decent to hammy and wooden. None of them manage to rise above the weak, stilted screenplay. There are a few slightly moving moments, but they're ephemeral. Even the cinematography and lighting is sub-par because it makes everything look ugly and either washed-out or too dark, so there's a lot of warmth missing, not only in the screenplay but in the production values. Is it too much to ask for warm lighting every now and then? Moreover, the pace moves as slow as molasses. At a running time of 1 hour and 44 minutes, which feels more like 3 hours, Women Talking is a clunky, lethargic and underwhelming drama that fails to pack an emotional punch.