FILMS from AFAR

Brazilian director Carolina Markowicz’s debut feature film, Charcoal (Carvão), earned rave reviews last year after world premiering at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) then making its European debut at Spain’s San Sebastián International Film Festival. (The film has a 100% critics rating on Rotten Tomatoes, based on 15 reviews.) Now she’s poised to repeat the hat trick with her follow-up film, Toll. Only this time, TIFF is celebrating Markowicz with its Emerging Talent Award, and Tollwas selected as the closing night film for San Sebastián’s Latin Horizons section. Markowicz has been drawing worldwide attention since her 2018 short film The Orphan – starring Kauan Alvarenga in a role with similarities to his character in Toll – debuted at Cannes, where it took The Queer Palm. It went on to play in over 200 festivals, winning more than 50 awards. Well-known Brazilian actress Maeve Jinkings co-stars in both Charcoal, which is about a family offered a diabolical deal to put their ailing elder to rest and host a drug kingpin on the run, and Toll. Here, Jinkings plays a single mother struggling to make ends meet who puts herself in jeopardy to afford conversion therapy sessions for her son (Alvarenga). She works at a motorway toll booth and has a freeloading criminal boyfriend. Both films tackle societal injustices and the stresses of poverty. This makes sense considering the context in which Markowicz and other Brazilian filmmakers are working. She describes how some politicians view the Brazilian film sector as an enemy, and several – including former president Jair Bolsonaro – have made publicly inflammatory comments about homosexuality. (People across Brazil’s sector expressed deep concerns when Bolsonaro first came to office in 2018 in interviews I conducted for The Hollywood Reporter). The environment offers inspiration. “I think I am a filmmaker who takes risks,” Markowicz says. AWFJ spoke with the director in advance of her busy fall release schedule about her newest film, the challenges for Brazilian filmmakers – particularly women, the possibility of meeting one of her filmmaker inspirations at TIFF this year, a run for the Oscars and a potential future project in the US. Read the Q&A at AWFJ.org.

When actor-writer-director Sandra Lipski made her first short film, she wanted to send it to a local festival in Mallorca, where she grew up. She discovered there wasn’t one. “It just really shocked me, because there’s literally a festival, as you know, in every little, tiny town,” she says. “And I just couldn’t believe that this beautiful island didn’t have one.” So, she decided to start her own. “I thought, well, why not just try it?” And that’s how Spain’s Evolution Mallorca International Film Festival (EMIFF) came into being in 2012. It wrapped its twelfth edition on Oct. 24. Read full Q&A with Sandra Lipski on AWFJ.org Photo by Johanna Gunnberg for EMIFF

In the heartwarming Spanish documentary now streaming on Netflix, 100 Days with Tata (100 Días con la Tata), the film’s co-star and director, actor Miguel Angel Muñoz, moves in with his beloved, 95-year-old relative to care for her night and day during the COVID pandemic. The virus struck Madrid particularly hard, and Tata’s in-home caretakers have to quit. So, not knowing how long COVID would last, Muñoz packs up his things and moves into her 35-square-meter apartment, whose walls are lined with photos and memorabilia of his successful film and television career. The days that follow are full of surprises, joy, fears, hopes and existential crises. Tata (real name Luisa Cantero) becomes an Instagram celebrity across the Spanish-speaking world as the two begin a daily streaming show dubbed “Quaran-TATA” (La Cuarentata). The documentary shows them dressed in costumes as nuns and flamenco dancers, reading fan mail, playing games, laughing, crying, and talking about life – and death. They hold a daily, minute-long candlelight vigil for those taken by the virus, a group that grew in dizzying proportions daily in those early months in Spain. Muñoz dedicates 24 hours of the day to Tata, waking with her multiple times a night to take her to the restroom, bathing and dressing her, giving her tasks, and dreaming up surprises and activities to keep them busy. He calls her his "95-year-old baby," and he compares the responsibility of caring for her to that of parents of a newborn. Especially moving scenes show him sponging her body in the shower, noting how careful he has to be to avoid damaging her “onion” like skin, giving her a first-timer's sensation of what it feels like to be tickled on the bottom of the feet, combing here hair and tearing up whenever the subject of her death comes up. And Tata, astonishingly, rejuvenates – her memory and mood improve, and she even sprouts some black hairs in her thin grey mane. This fills Muñoz with joy, but also an apparent new sense of responsibility that without him there, she might deteriorate again quickly. He notes she's losing her sight and her hearing, her body is in constant pain and her feet are deformed. Every time he leaves the house to go shopping, he says he fears coming back and infecting her. All of this is underscored with news footage from the times exposing the horrendous losses in senior residences across Spain. The two have always had what they term “a love affair.” Tata, who is actually his great-grandmother’s sibling rather than a direct grandparent, watched Muñoz from the time he was little. In the film, she admits she’s ready to die and is only living for him. They both know he has to learn to accept the reality of the end of her life, and he bravely documents his therapy sessions to help him work through this. An introductory section sets up Muñoz's hyperactivity and passion for sports, including extreme sports. It's an additional challenge for him to slow down his rhythm to hers, and they both know the arrangement can't last. His therapist reminds him he can't give up his life to care for her, though in some ways it's suggested this is exactly what Tata did to care for her own mother and then Miguel Angel when she was younger. A coda shows Muñoz back in action and visiting Tata in between professional engagements. The fact that Muñoz and Tata went back and – together with the help of a scriptwriter and a traditional 3-act structure – reenacted scenes lived during the pandemic but not captured on film, could from an intellectual point of view undermine the documentary's strict realism. But it does not take away from the meaningful life lessons or the authentic, tender relationship at the heart of this film. 100 Days with Tata is a love letter to a unique and inspiring relationship between two people separated by a 60-year age difference. In his directorial debut, Muñoz has crafted a testament to the power of love, the difficulty of aging, the reality of death and the importance of family. Interview with Miguel Angel Muñoz I'd like to start by asking, how is Tata? She's doing well. I am very happy because she's about to turn 98 already… And the truth is she's good, as the documentary shows, with her aches and pains and sometimes more or less desire to face life. But generally speaking, she has an unbeatable attitude and I feel very lucky. You could see that attitude improving during the filming of the documentary as well, which was emotional. Yes, that was really surprising and a lesson for me. First, because I've always looked after her and so what I do in the film isn't out of the ordinary. But being together for so many days, dedicating so much time to her, so much care and love – seeing how someone her age could evolve like that was astonishing. It was a very important lesson for me, but also frustrating because I can't be 24 hours with her, I have to live my life as well, as you see in the film. Those moments were hard to watch as a viewer because while you were happy to watch her improving… at the same time you seemed to be feeling perhaps more responsibility, as if her happiness or well-being depended on you? That's right and we're still working on that. It felt important to me to show that in the documentary as an open and truthful account. And it's true, at the same time that she was on her way up, I was on my way down. She sprouted black hairs, and, it's not really important but the quantity of grey hairs I got during the pandemic was impressive! And physical pains – the hernia, that caused me a lot of pain and I'm still healing. And I'm also learning and trying to put into practice the words of my therapist – to try to focus on all I can give her rather than all I don't. There's a moment in the film which really stuck out to me because you say that she was already old when you were born. I wondered if you could talk about that because I think, maybe especially for women, after a certain age they are discounted a bit and seen as already old. But this woman was just a little more than halfway into her life back then. She is a reference as a woman and I think as a 21st century superhero. When I ask Tata how old she'd like to be now, she doesn't say 15, 25 or 30, she says 80. At 70 years old, she felt she was still in the prime of her life with a ton of plans and the health of an oak tree to handle all the things she wanted to do without needing a partner by her side to make her feel good, without the need to feel "pretty" by society's standards – but just being her, as she was. She was 59, almost 60, and I remember her as beautiful. One thing is the stereotype of beauty or the cannon of beauty society sets from outside, but what we're not accustomed to is those who set it from within. For me, it was important in the documentary to talk about therapy because that's something society has had trouble accepting as a natural habit, like taking care of our outer selves. We've been practicing and promoting that for years, but caring for our inner selves and our emotions and therapy, talking about what one is going through, one's feelings, about love – that's more complicated, right? And that was very important for me to show here. Tata was born in 1924 and all the different types of therapy didn't even exist back then, yet today she's the wisest person I've ever met. And as far as being an independent, hard-working, feminist woman – she's a very important model. Does she think the same? Does she herself that way? No – she doesn't see herself that way, and that's what makes her magical. She's not conscious of the important message she's putting out there and, through that, all the good and significant things in her life. I owe her everything, together with my parents, who have always been there for me but are much younger. I owe her my education, my way of being, my way of thinking. I feel very proud to be like her and she's brought something very valuable to every person in her life, though they might not realize it. She is who she is – one of those wise and illumined people who really aren't conscious of their talent, their genius, their intellect. She doesn't think she does anything out of the ordinary. And every day, especially now that the documentary has premiered to such success… every day she gets tons of messages and inspirational cards. We read them to her and they make her very happy... But she still doesn't accept that she's really done something so important, and that makes her even grander. You've talked about the values of your relationship that you wanted to show in the film. Can you explain what you mean by that? The main thing is the unconditional love we feel and that we mutually profess, which isn't that common when the familial relationship is so distant. My Tata could have been a person hired by my parents to take care of me, and I love her as much as my mom or my dad. That's the first thing. And then two people can have a true love relationship without having that family connection or being a couple or having a sexual relationship or other type of sentimental relationship. Additionally, something really important is how to nurture a person despite 60 years of difference, like we have. I think normally young people look at old people as if they're uninteresting or have nothing worthwhile to offer us. We don't have the time or patience to dedicate to them. But in my case, my Tata managed that I did the most important things in my life – personally and now professionally, because thanks to her I also made the jump to directing… Ultimately the person you love the most is who you know the most and who will inspire you the most. And apart from the personal relationship, was it important to you to give a platform to older people, especially during the pandemic? That, and a bunch of other topics – the film talks about the elderly, about loneliness, about how unprepared we are to age, about how to confront aging and how to accept not being independent, or of having caretaker syndrome like me. It's a portrait of the pandemic but concretely of older people. I didn't set out to talk about any of that, it all stemmed from wanting to be honest about our reality. All these important topics came up, but my intention wasn't to provide a platform for any of that. I was probably the most surprised to find in this reality I thought I already knew, after filming and later in the editing room, that's where we saw what was there and what we wanted to show, but it wasn't intentional. I'd be lying if I said I wanted to talk about all that. It emerged fortuitously. If you had to summarize, what have you learned about confronting old age? I'm still learning! And what's more, I don't want to get to the age she has – I don't want to or I wouldn't like it. But I do hope to capture the message that we reap what we sow. I don't think I've done anything extraordinary for her – any person who has a Tata like mine would do the same as me. That is to say, if a person is grateful, humble, generous, then they will have people to care for them when they need it. But sometimes, life is difficult and we lose our independence, we become pricklier, we get angry instead of hugging or being grateful for those who help us age, and that's what can lead some people to wind up alone. I hope I can be like my Tata and have her gifts, but I recognize that I'm still not prepared and I wouldn't like to get to that age. Well, hopefully we get far – if not that far. And above all that we get there with joy. The biggest lesson for me is how many things I need in order to feel alive, in terms of adrenaline and of living… I do a thousand things a day, like the documentary shows… I don't stop and that's what I like, what I find fun, and what makes me happy. And my Tata is happy just if her body doesn't hurt or to have her coffee, to see that plant, to admire nature. It's impressive, and she can also enjoy big things. I hope I can manage to enjoy the little things, because when you get to that age you can't do all the things you could when you were young. This interview has been translated from Spanish and edited for length and clarity. This review and Q&A were originally published with the Alliance of Women Film Journalists. Images courtesy of Netflix.

A few years ago, when actor Molly Ringwald suggested in an article for The New Yorker that some of her best-known 1980s films could be considered “racist, misogynistic, and, at times, homophobic,” Gen X was abuzz. Here was an icon of 1980s teendom shining a harsh light on movies like “The Breakfast Club” and “Sixteen Candles” that had marked a generation of high schoolers, myself included. Revisiting films of the era with my own 15-year-old daughter has brought similar moments of awareness. This awkward walk down memory lane got me thinking: Will today’s youth – my kids and college students included – question their generation’s on-screen portrayal in the future? Will Netflix owe Gen Z an apology? I can’t speak for Generation Z, the group born between the late 1990s and early 2010s, but I watch a lot of films and series about them. I'm a not-so-secret fan of the genre, no matter how many years separate me from high school. And though I’m obviously not the target demographic, I’m a parent, I work with college students and I'm paid to write about movies, so I watch closely and with a critical eye. Lately I’ve noticed some commonalities in how Gen Z is being portrayed on screen. These feel increasingly like unchallenged clichés from older generations looking down. What follows is my top 5. None of this is limited to Netflix, by the way. Nor to the US: these are global platforms depicting a global generation. 1. Gen Z is social media obsessed. The most prevalent, and laziest, cliché about today’s “screenagers” is that they’re physically attached to their phones, more concerned with their online image than what happens IRL, and will do anything for followers and likes. For example, the social media status of the French teens in Netflix film “Dangerous Liaisons” is likened to the rankings of royalty in the court of Versailles. The lead character, initially above all this shallowness, finds social acceptance and happiness only after she starts sharing her life on Instagram. “When the Wi-Fi goes out, it’s like they lose oxygen,” the Gen X director of new Gen Z slasher satire “Bodies, Bodies, Bodies” told The New York Times of her characters. For good measure, the Times quoted a college professor who suggested that asking today’s youth to step back from the virtual world is “like asking them to imagine living without solid food.” Sure, the stereotype itself is often what’s being exploited. In Hulu’s recent “Not Okay,” a fame-seeking young woman pretends to be the victim of a terrorist attack only to discover internet celebrity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. But what’s missing is the critical take that questions whether these digital natives might actually be more skeptical of social media thanks to their fluency with it than we digital immigrants. Twenty years from now, I suspect the portrayal will feel as out-of-date to them as “You’ve Got Mail” does to us today. 2. Gen Z parties… hard. If we trust what we see on screen, typical teen experimentation has gone ballistic. Shows like “Sex Education” (Netflix) and “The Sex Lives of College Girls” (HBO Max) suggest teenagers are urgently, sometimes indiscriminately, seeking sex. At least this is now equal across genders and sexual orientations, unlike in hetero male-oriented ‘80s movies. Today’s teens are also consuming a lot of drugs, judging by Netflix’s Spain-set murder mystery “Elite,” HBO Max’s dystopian suburban drama “Euphoria” and others. This isn’t Spicoli’s mellow stoner; we’re talking pills and powders. The escalation is often portrayed as rooted in anxiety, discontent and cynicism. “The world’s coming to an end, and I haven’t even graduated high school yet,” the tormented Rue quips in episode one of “Euphoria.” The angst is intensified by global events and parental mistakes. Which brings us to… 3. Gen Z's parents are to blame. Last March, a tweet went viral suggesting “Millennial filmmakers are slowly creating an entire genre of fantasy films where parents apologize.” Media outlets picked up on the idea. Vox wrote about the “millennial parental apology fantasy,” involving “stories where the parent has to realize how badly they’ve treated their child.” This trend has stretched beyond family dynamics. On screen, older generations are being taken to task for pretty much everything wrong with the world. In the Netflix revamp of Danish series “Borgen,” the former prime minister is accused on live TV by her Gen Z son of being part of a generation that ‘destroyed the world,’ leaving their kids to clean up the mess. The 53-year-old mom responds: “And your generation has a bad habit of always playing the victim instead of creating some change.” Ouch. Of course, anyone paying attention knows this isn’t true. From climate advocacy group ‘Fridays for Future’ to anti-gun violence ‘March for Our Lives’ to ‘Gen Z for Change,’ activist groups comprised of fed-up young people are taking matters into their own hands. 4. Gen Z is excessively ‘woke’ (but don’t call them that). Which leads us to the next common Gen Z portrayal: that they’re all politically aware, active and on the “correct” side of history. The jerks of today rarely get the girl, like they did in 80s films – see the comeuppance of creeps in outwardly feminist movies like “Moxie,” for example. Meanwhile, Broadway-quality high school musicals are replacing the patriarchal prom in much teen fare, and on-screen Gen Z inhabits an equity-conscious world where friend groups invariably fulfill a checklist of racial and sexual identities. It’s a lot to live up to! In Netflix parody “Senior Year,” a 37-year-old woman wakes up from a coma and goes back to high school, discovering trophy cases have been replaced with pro-environment “art” made from tampons, popularity contests have been banned and the cheer squad performs chants about sexual consent and saving turtles. “I’m just trying to build my most authentic, socially conscious, body-positive, environmentally aware, and economically compassionate brand,” the school’s top influencer explains through a stiff smile. Take that, “Mean Girls.” The satire works because it’s based on a familiar representation. But is it reality? 5. Gen Z is entitled. Young people today were “born with hurt feelings,” are best friends with the internet (or their parents), and have way too much self-esteem, complain the 50-something characters of Netflix comedy “Wine Country.” Recent Paramount+ film “Honor Society” agrees. The tale’s protagonist is a top student who believes herself profoundly superior to her classmates, teachers and parents. She casually schemes to win a coveted Ivy League recommendation, only to find herself outmaneuvered by an even more devious and entitled senior. Let it not go unnoticed that this blatantly cynical portrayal of Gen Z was written by a man born in 1962. Like most of these depictions of teens, from “The Breakfast Club” on, what we’re seeing is an adult view of younger generations. Are they basing their ideas on what they see in teens today, or what they’ve already seen on screen? Gen Z has a whole lot more to choose from, audiovisually speaking, than previous generations, but the view of them is surprisingly uniform. It’ll be interesting to watch how they reckon with this portrayal in the future -- and who they'll hold accountable. This article originally ran in The Seattle Times. Images courtesy of Netflix and Hulu.

This fall marks five years since the New York Times and the New Yorker released explosive reporting on allegations of sexual misconduct by Hollywood mogul Harvey Weinstein, who is now back in a Los Angeles court on new charges. The case galvanized the #MeToo movement, inspiring women around the world to speak out on their own experiences of sexual abuse and harassment. In Weinstein’s wake, similar allegations brought down other entertainment icons, like Roger Ailes and Matt Lauer. Storytellers took note. “She Said,” premiering Friday, Nov. 18, brings the Weinstein investigation to the silver screen, with Zoe Kazan and Carey Mulligan starring as New York Times journalists Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey for director Maria Schrader (“Unorthodox”). Here are five other films and series, currently available to stream, inspired by aspects of #MeToo and some of its highest-profile cases. Read the full story in the San Francisco Chronicle. Images courtesy of Apple+, Netflix, HBOMax and Lionsgate Entertainment.

This commentary originally ran in The Seattle Times. When South Korean filmmaker Bong Joon-ho won the best picture Oscar for “Parasite” in 2020, he made history with the first non-English language film ever to win that top prize. “Parasite” also took home best director, original screenplay and international feature film awards, earning him congratulations from everyone up to the then-president of South Korea. Such high-level accolades may not be unusual for directors of Academy Award winners, but they’re particularly meaningful for international filmmakers, for whom an Oscar can mean the difference between widespread distribution and global renown or limited audiences and, in some cases (not Bong’s), obscurity. That’s why film professionals around the world will be paying close attention to the shortlisted nominees for best international film to be announced Dec. 21. Curiously, this is one of the Oscar categories that tends to elude much notice on the Academy’s home shores. It’s something I personally struggle to come to terms with, as a fan, critic and instructor of international cinema. Sure, American audiences pay attention when there’s controversy — and this prize has its fair share, from changing its name in 2019 from the outdated “foreign-language,” to once not accepting an English-language submission from Nigeria, where English is the official language. But before theaters were shut down due to COVID, non-English language films were accounting for only around 1% of domestic box-office grosses. And now, films are premiering on-demand and online faster than ever. Seattle follows these same trends, though there are also signs this can be a fertile market for international movies. “We are cultural risk-takers in a way that a lot of cities are not,” suggests Beth Barrett, artistic director at the Seattle International Film Festival who programs at both the festival and its three local theaters. She points to Seattle’s young, international population and vibrant music and museum scenes, as well as its film market: “On every level, our arts and culture community is constantly pushing us to discover.” That attitude can benefit international and independent films, which thrive on word-of-mouth. Getting the word out “Parasite” is a prime example. It started generating buzz even before its Oscar nominations after nabbing the top prize at Cannes, a first for its country. As Barrett puts it, the film “became part of the national conversation,” the kind of movie people were talking about around the water-cooler (back when people went to offices). “Parasite” went on to become the fourth top-grossing “foreign-language” film of all time in the U.S. Locally, it is also SIFF Cinema’s top grossing film of all time and tied “Lady Bird” to stay up on its screens the longest (16 weeks). “The word-of-mouth about how good it was is the reason that people were able to keep it on screen,” Barrett says. International films rely heavily on festivals, prestige awards like the Oscars and critical attention to garner that buzz. “Oscar exposure remains a major factor in public interest in a film,” according to Paul Siple, communications manager and content editor at Northwest Film Forum. “Invariably, the more coverage a film has received in advance of its theatrical debut in Seattle, the more likely it is to outpace other films’ sales at NWFF.” As the number of art house theaters have dwindled in recent decades, Barrett notes, “festivals really took up that mantle of being the place that you could still see those [international films], the place that you could still travel the world without leaving your seat, so to speak.” Foreign films have been a staple at NWFF since its inception, according to Siple, and Barrett says the great majority of films shown at SIFF are international, part of the original intent of the festival’s founders. She also cites the impact of longtime SIFF and local art house programmer Ruth Hayler, who passed away last month, on Seattle audiences’ “desire to see subtitled films.” One-inch barrier In his Oscar acceptance speech for “Parasite,” Bong said, “Once you overcome the one-inch tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films.” I couldn’t agree more, but it’s a slow sea change. “Parasite” is the exception, not the norm. With generally small marketing budgets and limited theatrical releases, international films struggle to find audiences stateside. Even international Oscar winners earn on average less than $4 million at the domestic box office, barring exceptions. People point to streaming platforms as a potential savior, and certainly titles like Netflix’s 2019 international Oscar winner “Roma,” current contender “All Quiet on the Western Front” from Germany, as well as series like “Squid Game” and “Money Heist,” encourage this stance. But streamers have “personalization” algorithms that are widely criticized for creating our own individual echo chambers: You have to watch international content to be marketed international content. Anecdotally, years’ worth of surveys of my students at Central Washington University suggests exposure is the main factor limiting their consumption of “foreign-language” films, followed by a lack of interest. “I don’t see many reviews or hear word-of-mouth about them” and “I don’t seek them out online” are consistently the top responses among six options, followed by “I don’t enjoy subtitles or dubbing.” Why watch international movies? What do we miss out on when we ignore international films? Movies open us up to the stories, places, ways of life and idiosyncrasies of cultures around the world. I believe they make us more tolerant, open-minded and complete. We learn things about ourselves, and for many, they offer a connection to family roots. There are some amazing-looking films among the 92 official contenders for this year’s International Oscar, many of which festival-watchers will recognize. The collection could represent the breadth of human experience. European titles often dominate the list. Front-runners this year include Ali Abassi’s Iran-set “Holy Spider” representing Denmark, Belgian Lukas Dhont’s coming-of-age “Close,” Alice Diop’s “Saint Omer” from France, Spain’s “Alcarràs,” Poland’s “EO,” Austria’s “Corsage” and Ireland’s “The Quiet Girl.” Director Park Chan-wook is garnering a lot of attention to possibly follow in compatriot Bong Joon-ho’s footsteps with noir romance “Decision to Leave.” Mexican director Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s semi-autobiographical tour-de-force, “Bardo,” is another favorite, and “Argentina, 1985,” directed by Santiago Mitre, could also be a contender. The shortlist being announced Dec. 21 will consist of 15 semifinalists. The final five will be revealed with the other category nominations on Jan. 24. I hope you’ll keep your eyes out. The International Oscars shortlist was announced on Dec. 21, 2022. Oscars image credit: Amdrewcs81 / License

This vehicle for co-writer-director-star Mancuso is quirky, charming, and full of good vibes, despite a few directorial missteps. Mancuso pulls from his own experiences and life in Música, which grounds the story in a sense of realism. His sweet relationship with his overbearing mom (played by real-life mom Maria) and his vibrant, Jersey-based Brazilian community -- which hasn't been given the attention on screen that other immigrant communities have -- come to life naturally. It's charming to see him and co-star Mendes bonding over aspects of their cultural heritage and peppering their speech with Portuguese phrases and expressions. The context is what makes the otherwise conventional romantic triangle and "failure to launch" storyline original, and the film drags the most in moments solely focused on these (for example, in an overly long restaurant scene where Mancuso encounters both girlfriends). Woven into the story are elements of magic and fantasy to conjure Mancuso's synesthesia, a condition which -- in his case -- makes everyday sounds form into musical patterns in his brain. In his mind, people in diners, parks, and subway trains regularly break into rhythm and dance. The design and choreography of these musical numbers is delightful to experience as a viewer, and Mancuso shows originality in staging, composition, and editing as well (turning cameras sideways, moving characters between sets, and so on). The synesthesia comes with challenges -- the film opens: "Based on a true story. Unfortunately." On the other hand, would Mancuso be where he is today, with such a broad following online and such a compelling story to bring to film, without this "gift," as Mendes' character calls it? Here's hoping he has more stories to tell. Read the full review on CommonSenseMedia Images courtesy of Prime Video

Featuring powerful performances and an emotional storyline matched by a moody setting, this is a film that can connect with a lot of different age groups. Brian Cox (Succession) and Kelly Reilly (Yellowstone) lead the adult cast in Little Wing, but the star is really 13-year-old Brooklynn Prince (The Florida Project). Prince is present in just about every scene, and we experience the film through her. It's a testimony to her sincerity as an actor, and the writing and directing, that the film strikes very few false notes in constructing the life of a depressed teen. Cox is also fantastic at conveying tenderness beneath the gruff. This isn't always an easy movie to watch, but it's a poignant tale that is well told and pays off. Read the full review at CommonSenseMedia Images courtesy of Paramount+

It's not quite like being at a live performance of this elite flying team, but this film -- especially the limited IMAX release -- is sure to thrill fans with its cockpit views of in-air maneuvers. Fans and the curious will also get a lot out of the interviews and behind-the-scenes insights into the preparation and work that goes into the tradition of The Blue Angels. The film, however, isn't for those with only a passing interest in the elite flyers and could feel to some like propaganda for the team and the military in general. We don't get a ton of insight into the personal lives or backgrounds of these men, nor what drives them beyond perfecting their performance. There's a definite Top Gunair to the proceedings, heightened by a rousing Hans Zimmer-produced score. Read the full review at Common Sense Media.

Glen Powell is on a roll, and there's no doubt this latest film -- which shows off some chameleonic acting chops on his part -- will find a huge audience. Hit Man is a sexy, twisting mystery with a silly side as well as some philosophizing about the nature of identity and personality construction. Considering this latter theme, the writers -- Powell himself, together with director Linklater -- could have dug deeper to give co-star Arjona more personality outside the bedroom. We learn little about her beyond her desire for Ron and her reactions to an abusive husband. The one-dimensional portrayal feels like a throwback. But, as the title alludes, this film is all about the man, and it seems constructed as a showcase for Powell. As Gary, he swaps wigs, accents, even teeth -- a man of many disguises. The actor's natural charisma and ability to transition from shy to smarmy to charming in a single scene is on full display here, and he can be very funny. That charm is what helped boost ticket sales for his romcom Anyone But You. Meanwhile, the New Orleans setting sizzles in the film's background and subtly supports themes in Gary's character as well as his philosophy lectures. Watch, for example, for Powell to drive by the corners of Law and Desire or Pleasure and Pain. Read the full review at Common Sense Media. Images courtesy of Netflix.

This Swedish drama combines moving turns from its teen stars with a nuanced script built around moments and emotions rather than major events or dialogues. A Part of You's success rests on the credibility of its lead actors' performances, and Maxime and Ryding (who also star in Netflix series Young Royals) deliver. Maxime communicates complex emotional development, often without words. This works in the film's favor, as key scenes involving more dialogue and arguments are not as poignant as the quieter moments. It helps that viewers learn information at the same time as Agnes. Handsome use of lighting adds to the film's sensibility. Read the full review at Common Sense Media. Images courtesy of Netflix.

This is an interesting documentary seemingly made by fans (directors Marshall and Zimny) for other fans, but it isn't likely to appeal to those unfamiliar with or indifferent to the band. And for diehard fans, The Beach Boys might come up short. Although Brian's struggles are described in detail, the film doesn't go into detail about the fate of brother/bandmate Dennis, who struggled with his own demons and drowned in 1983, and it focuses mainly on the single decade of the 1960s. It also jumps around in time for narrative flow, which might prove confusing for viewers keeping track. Better connections could also have been made among the outside musical commentators -- how do they relate and why were they selected to speak on The Beach Boys? Although the film runs a bit long, there's a lot to be learned and appreciated in the career and music of this pioneering group. Read the full review on Common Sense Media. Images courtesy of Disney+