This well-acted romantic drama -- based on Richard Paul Evans' novel -- offers a welcome change from the usual frothy fare released for the holiday season. Justin Hartley and Barrett Doss make a handsome and enticing couple in The Noel Diary. Their interactions feel refreshingly mature as they connect over jazz music and reckon with their own life choices. The film wanders into melodrama at times, giving off a soap opera vibe, like in an unnecessary slow-mo flashback to a child's death. But, as a whole, both the drama and the romance work, and if the original novelist's success is any measure, this film will find a broad audience. Read the full review at Common Sense Media. Image courtesy of Netflix.

The Swimmers is an old-fashioned biopic, a roller coaster of emotions spread out over an unabashed 135 minutes. The storytelling forces viewers into the shoes of young refugees whose lives are torn apart by war and who in no way deserve the difficult twists of fate thrown at them. Whatever shortcomings viewers find with the film, the real-life story is impossible not to appreciate. The film is based on the experiences of sisters Sara and Yusra Mardini, who endured a harrowing escape from war-torn Syria to seek asylum in Europe. Yusra is a competitive swimmer who went on to compete in the 2016 Rio Olympics. The sisters’ swimming skills literally saved their lives, and the lives of others, on a barely-floating raft during their trek to Europe via the Aegean Sea. The Mardini sisters are played by two other real-life sisters, the Lebanese actresses Manal and Nathalie Issa. While other aspects of the film’s casting might elicit critique – for example, the way characters regularly switch into English, or the actual nationalities of actors versus characters – casting sisters was a tremendously insightful move that brings to life the girls’ sibling connection, so fundamental to their survival. Manal is especially riveting as the older sister, the tough and fiercely independent Sara. Their father (played in the film by Palestinian actor Ali Suliman), a former swimmer himself, coached both girls to become competitive swimmers, but Nathalie was the one who showed the discipline and talent to succeed at the sport. This made Nathalie her father’s natural favorite, and in the film both her dad and her older sister are overly protective of her, making her internal transformation from protected younger sister to determined Olympic athlete all the more compelling. The film opens on the girls living an apparently comfortable life in suburban Damascus in 2011. There are hints of turbulence to come in the wake of the Arab Spring uprisings in neighboring countries, but the girls’ mother insists “nothing like that” can happen in Syria. Tension is set up from the start in a foreshadowing opening scene of boys in a neighborhood pool diving for a bomb-shaped toy at the bottom of a pool. Flash forward four years and, after yet another friend their age is killed in the constant bombs plaguing Syria and the family endures a particularly scary near-death incident, the girls convince their parents to let them emigrate to Europe together with a cousin, Nizar (Ahmed Malek). The journey is not what they expect. Despite having promised their parents they would make the trek by land, they wind up on a raft trying to cross the Aegean. When the raft starts taking on water and everyone on board is at risk, the girls heroically jump into the water and swim through the night. The watery nightmare is captured in an emotionally exhausting 10-minute sequence of the film. It starts with a fade to black leading into a montage of panicked moments on the raft, where the seacraft is taking on more and more water. A mix of noisy eye-level shots inside the increasingly chaotic raft and hushed birds-eye views of the girls swimming and floating in the water make the sequence extremely difficult to watch. We empathize when the group, finally safe on land on a Greek island, tear into the hazardous raft and rip it to pieces. From there, the passage doesn’t get much easier as the multinational group from the raft walks for days and makes deals with random strangers to get rides or be taken to safe border crossings. When they finally (spoiler alert) get to Germany, they’re put up in makeshift cubicle housing for months and months as they wait for their papers to get processed. It’s during this time that Yusra, fed up, turns to exercise to pass the time and find a goal to keep moving forward, pulling from her long years of disciplined training. She eventually makes her way to a pool and convinces a local trainer (Army of Thieves’ always charismatic Matthias Schweighöfer) to take her on, eventually leading her and Sara to better housing and professional training for Yusra to compete. The film offers plenty of commentary on the treatment of refugees, millions of whom have made the often-fatal trek to Europe in the last decade-plus, from the Coast Guard refusing to save the people on the raft (“it’s not their policy”), to dishonest or violent traffickers taking advantage of their desperation, to bureaucrats who can’t bend the rules no matter the individual situation. The film balances its three parts – Syria, the journey, and Germany to Rio – without prioritizing or minimizing any one of them. Some scenes could feel overly manipulative or too slick for some viewers, but the structure gives the story room to breathe and the film lands its many emotional beats. The filmmakers – including director Sally El Hosaini, co-scripter Jack Thorne (Enola Holmes) and producers Tim Bevan and Eric Fellner of Working Title, among others – knew they had captivating material with this real-life story, and they’ve done the Mardini girls justice. This review originally ran on the website of The Alliance of Women Film Journalists.

This snappy comedy about a family who just can't seem to get along but who also love each other deeply has some very funny scenes as characters free-fall into excess. But there are also moments in The People We Hate at the Wedding where you lose sympathy for the characters. Even if you understand the emotional pain driving their behavior, you might hate them well before the climactic wedding happens. But, perhaps predictably, the film turns things around and lets better angels prevail by the end. Chalk the successful line-toeing in this film up to the talented ensemble cast, led by Kristen Bell, Allison Janney, and Ben Platt, whose characters are just barely in control of their lives. Wondering whether they'll spin out completely is part of the fun, and we watch with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation alongside their lovers -- Jonathan, Dennis, Henrique, Dominic, and Alcott (all well cast, especially Dustin Mulligan and Karan Soni). Also in the background are some laughably quirky scenarios -- very literal OCD treatments, a failed threesome, and a wedding full of Brits warning, "the Americans are coming!" Through it all, Donna thinks her kids are perfect. And the film's theme of unconditional love, purposefully hard to comprehend or at times even abide by, comes through in her character. Read the full review at Common Sense Media. Images courtesy of Amazon Prime Video.

Featuring another tour-de-force performance by Amy Adams, starring as the charming ingenue turned wicked stepmother, this sequel will please fans. Disenchanted reverses the roles of its predecessor: Instead of a cartoon princess landing in real-world New York, the princess turns her new home in the suburbs into a fairytale world and, in the process, becomes evil and risks sucking the life out of the actual magical kingdom of Andalasia. It's a clever premise -- what suburb couldn't use a little excitement? -- that allows the actors to play against character and the characters to further parody Disney tropes. By far the film's highlight is a showstopping villain sing-off between Adams and Maya Rudolph -- two evil divas dressed to the nines and fighting over who's "badder" and should be queen. They bring PTA-mom rivalry to a whole new level. The film has some funny lyrics about the family's move to the "magic kingdom of suburbia" and what constitutes a fairytale life. But the set-up of the story and presentation of character updates (cute little Morgan is now a sullen teen) takes a bit too long and the intro section lulls. It's only once Giselle starts to feel evil that the film picks up and the real fun begins. Her chipmunk turns into an amusingly evil fat cat ("I feel so superior!"), and Adams appears to be having a blast arguing with herself as good and bad Giselle fight over her spirit. Patrick Dempsey also looks to be enjoying himself, failing at slaying dragons and giants. But Enchanted, and now Disenchanted, is Amy Adams' show, and not even Idina Menzel's spectacular singing or Rudolph's droll eyebrow lifts can steal her limelight. Read the full review at Common Sense Media. Images courtesy of Disney+.

This predictable holiday romance lacks chemistry or much real emotion, but it's pleasant enough. Some of the cultural touchstones in Christmas with You feel very real-to-life, like the family's blending of Spanish and English or the abuela's insistence that guests eat. Others feel a little heavy-handed, like the slow-mo tamale-making that's meant to advance the main characters' relationship. Angelina's obsession with her weight comes across as unhealthy and outdated. Two supporting actors leave an impression. Zenzi Williams has some great knowing looks as Angelina's personal assistant. We will probably see more of Deja Monique Cruz, who gives a charming performance as the daughter about to celebrate her quinceañera. Read the full review at Common Sense Media. Image courtesy of Netflix.

This gritty drama about class inequality in India could resonate with viewers from anywhere. In a voiceover narration set up as a letter from the main character, Balram, to the visiting premier of China, he asserts that where there used to be a thousand castes in India, now there are only two: men with big bellies and men with small bellies. It's only when Balram throws off the shackles of servitude by cheating his "master" out of money that he says his belly begins to grow. It's just one example of how the untrustworthy narrator of The White Tiger blends dark humor with social critique in a mix that is compelling, entertaining, and distressing all at once. The film plays out in two contrasting hours, much like South Korean satire Parasite, with which it will doubtless be compared. The first hour feels like a slightly quirky rags-to-riches dramatic comedy; the second hour, beginning with an accident foreshadowed in the introduction, spirals downward into darker drama and crime. Both parts are driven by a subtle and convincing performance by Adarsh Gourav as Balram. The White Tiger pulls no punches in its clear-eyed depiction of class inequalities, corruption, and violence in India, where a man of Balram's status is born into layers of servitude. "I was trapped in the rooster coop," Balram states of his and other servants' resignation to their fate. "And don't believe for a second there's a million-rupee game show you can win to get out of it." A show, maybe, like the one that saves a man like Balram in 2008's Slumdog Millionaire. Balram's narrative is so laden with social commentary, you have to pay close attention not to miss any of his one-liners. He sneers at the idea of India as the world's "largest democracy" and watches as a politician known as "The Great Socialist" wins the poor vote with one hand and arrogantly bribes wealthy business owners with the other. He vows if he were elected leader of India, he'd focus on sewage pipes before democracy. He declares the future belongs to India and China, not America, and yet the America-raised and –educated Pinky is the film's most egalitarian and generous character. As the title hints, the film also plays with animal symbolism for dramatic (caged roosters and tigers, cawing crows) and comedic (cows, "the most well-fed members" of the family) effect. Read the full review at Common Sense Media. Images courtesy of Netflix.

It's unusual and frankly lovely to see two men open up, share their insecurities, and delve into meaningful moments in their lives, exposing vulnerabilities candidly on camera. How Stutz, Jonah Hill's love letter to his psychiatrist, resonates with individual viewers may depend a lot on where that person is in his or her life -- much like therapy itself. The film is loosely set up as a therapy session, but with the doctor and patient alternately probing each other about their surprisingly analogous life experiences. The discussion is edited to fit into sections based on some of Stutz's best-known "tools" for dealing with mental health and life challenges. These are hand-illustrated on cards Stutz uses to visualize concepts for patients. Stutz also walks Hill through some of the tools, asking him to close his eyes and envision scenarios, then explain what he learned or how he feels. Interested viewers could ostensibly try the methods out at the same time at home. One of his intentions in making the movie, Hill says, is to share with as many people as possible tools that have helped him in life. Experimental in subject matter as well as style, the black-and-white documentary is set entirely in one space and plays with peeling back the filmmaking process to a bare-bones minimum. This shedding of artifice also feels symbolic of the therapy process. Around 20 minutes in, Hill addresses his insecurities about how filming is going, admitting some filmmaking "tricks" (no spoilers here) and what he thinks is and isn't working. Stutz laughs that this will either be the best or the worst documentary ever. They face each other in some scenes and sit next to each other in others; every now and then an editing snag mixes the two or lets a corner of a studio lighting fixture invade the frame. The camera regularly closes in on Stutz's pill box and his body or parts of it, capturing shaking and mannerisms related to his Parkinson's disease. The two regularly rib each other and reveal the close personal relationship they've forged. If that sounds anathema to the stereotype of the "objective" and distant psychiatrist, that seems a big part of the point. This film and its stars aim to convey a message of hope. Putting natural cynicism aside, Hill does appear to have gained a lot from his work with Stutz, and their friendship seems beneficial for them both. Read the full review at Common Sense Media. Images courtesy of Netflix.

This deliberately slow, talky film about two broken people trying to put their lives back together features great performances from Lawrence and Henry. Causeway director Lila Neugebauer smartly lets the camera linger on the two main characters, never hurried, and captures as much emotion in their gestures and looks as in their dialogue. But the film does lull at times, perhaps because it's portraying two characters who are themselves stuck. Lynsey and James are both grappling with trauma that they don't quite know how to face. A doctor tells Lynsey that trauma has a stronger link to depression than smoking does to cancer. Her nurse warns her to take it slow, but her mom doesn't seem to fully believe there's anything wrong. Stephen McKinley Henderson, Jayne Houdyshell and Emond are all excellent in these supporting roles. Causeway adds to a growing body of movies about the impact of the United States' "forever" wars, taking a less common perspective by centering a female veteran. But Lynsey isn't the movie's sole focus or the only character overcoming trauma. Lynsey and James form an unlikely pair, and that's a big part of what makes this film interesting. Their conversations feel real, for the most part, as does the way they seem wary of each other at first and only slowly reveal personal details. There also appears to be symbolism in Lynsey's pool-cleaning job. She eventually has to clean her own pool, and though she's an expert at holding her breath, she also has to come up for air. She semi-jokes that she's been holding her breath for 26 years. The film's slow pace dovetails with its location: It feels like we're on New Orleans time, with frequent mention of the heat and street scenes that capture the city's many contrasts and colors. There's a lot here to appreciate, but the story and its slow-moving stride won't be for everyone. Read the full review at Common Sense Media. Images courtesy of Apple TV+.

This twist on the classic play adds characters, alters the ending, and imposes contemporary sensibilities, resulting in an entertaining but uneven romp. By mixing sumptuous period wardrobes and settings with modern characters, diction, and music, Rosaline differs from its contemporaries in the genre -- films like Enola Holmes and The Princess, which also foist a blatantly feminist perspective onto fairy tales and classic narratives. The novel approach mostly works, thanks to a charming lead cast (Dever, Teale, Merced, and Allen, coiffed to look like a young Heath Ledger). Much of the film's best humor involves the supporting cast: the fathers who begrudgingly accept their anachronistically progressive daughters (Bradley Whitford and Christopher McDonald), a nurse called Nurse whose actual nursing ability is ignored (Minnie Driver), and a slacker/stoner courier played by Moxie's Nico Hiraga. Despite the twists in plot and character, not to mention Rosaline's My Best Friend's Wedding-style plotting against Romeo and Juliet, the storyline is ultimately predictable. The film also has some uneven pacing and feels bogged down at times by its own formula of superimposing contemporary archetypes and sass onto a 16th century story. The gay bestie in particular feels gratuitous, as does a topless scene starring Teale. Allen's Romeo comically turns out not to be the sharpest sword, a blowhard who repeats his few lines of romantic poetry to each new love interest. It's that kind of silliness that makes Rosaline fun and best enjoyed by not taking it too seriously. Read the full review on Common Sense Media. Images courtesy of Hulu.

Not every viewer will be willing or able to sit through two and a half hours of epic, bloody, graphically violent war reenactments. But those who do make it through this third film version (and the first in German) of the classic German novel, All Quiet on the Western Front, will be rewarded with a subtly humane tale of friendship, endurance, and the value of human life. The violence serves the story and its message. Director Edward Berger and team have done a jaw-dropping job of choreographing battlefield scenes, shooting them often at eye level and embedded in the trenches, giving the viewer the impression of being in the mix. A disquieting score relies heavily on single, melancholic beats that come and go with the action. Newcomer Kammerer is excellent as the wide-eyed recruit who barely withstands each passing day of tragedy. Quiet is shot in grey, blue, and brown tones, and painstakingly conveys the soldiers' horrific, near-starvation, mud-caked, boot-soaked conditions. These are compared in overlapping scenes with the exquisite luxuries military leaders are afforded. Soldiers are killed, dismembered, exploded, set on fire, and sent into a last deadly battle just minutes before the armistice. The film has a clear theme of how little the lives of the young men seem to matter to some of the higher-ups, or to the enemy. "Soon Germany will be empty," one character says. End credits tell us almost 17 million people died in World War I, three million battling uselessly over the western front. Scenes capture how single trenches get passed back and forth on the same fought-over land between opposing sides for years, and how the uniforms of the dead are practically yet cynically washed, sewn back up, and handed out to new recruits, with perished soldiers' names on labels ripped out and tossed to the floor. Read the full review at Common Sense Media. Images courtesy of Netflix.

Melodrama teetering toward telenovela, this Brazilian romance stays afloat thanks to its charismatic young stars. For Beyond the Universe to work, you definitely have to suspend disbelief and just go along for the ride. But there's an element of magic here that suggests the filmmakers were hoping you would do precisely that. Be and Zaga make a stunning couple and their quick fall in love is sweet and youthful. Some of the attempts at humor fall flat, and better editing could have brought the film down from a long two hours. But the story's heart is in the right place, and the film captures a romantic Sao Paulo with saturated colors popping around concrete buildings and skies burning a sunset orange. Read the full review at Common Sense Media. Images courtesy of Netflix.

There’s a growing body of films set against the low-income, immigrant-heavy banlieues of Paris’s exurbs, with highlights ranging from Matthieu Kassovitz’s landmark 1996 film Hate (La Haine) to Céline Sciamma’s 2014 Girlhood (Bande de Filles), Ladj Ly’s 2019 Les Misérables and 2020’s Cuties (Mignonnes, which sparked a misguided Netflix boycott). All of these films have, not coincidentally, been invited to top festivals and earned solid reviews. You Resemble Me (Tu Me Ressembles) adds to the roster, and takes a standard trope – at-risk youth slipping into troubling behavior – one step further: its traumatized protagonist finds herself drawn to radical Islam via a smooth-talking cousin already wanted in connection to terrorism. The film’s director, former Vice News reporter Dina Amer, co-wrote the script based on her own journalistic investigation into the real-life case of a woman, Hasna Aït Boulahcen, who was accused of carrying out a suicide bombing following the 2015 terrorist attacks in Paris. Details about her life were widely reported, though news stations broadcast three different women’s photos believed to be Hasna. Ultimately it turned out she did not set off the bomb and may even have been a victim herself. Amer’s script takes us through Hasna’s life, attempting to convey how a young girl can be mistreated to such an extent that she carries that trauma and lack of a clear identity into adulthood. We see Hasna and her beloved younger sister Mariam running away from an abusive mother. When they are picked up by protective services and sent to foster homes, they are separated. That rupture of such a close bond (the girls define themselves in relation to each other, hence the title of the film) is something Hasna never seems to overcome. When we flash forward to her adulthood, we see she is in a lot of trouble, dealing drugs, giving sexual favors, working menial jobs and living off the generosity of friends. This background sets the stage for her reencounter with a long-lost cousin, Abdelhamid Abaaoud. She spots him on TV when his photo is broadcast as wanted for recruiting terrorists. They begin an online conversation and his descriptions of a forgiving God and promises of “paradise” offer her, finally, a way out of her troubles and a purpose in life. Among other tactics, Abaaoud puts out videos on social media identifying with others with dual identities, talking about never feeling fully European nor fully Arab. This is a theme in the film, picked up in several small and large moments, including an African French rap group on television memorably chanting, “I’ll fuck France until she loves me.” The film is best in its first third, following the two young sisters as they laugh and play and take care of each other. Handheld camerawork infuses the sequences with the feeling of being there and being constantly in motion. Even then, there are hints that Hasna is different – tougher than her siblings, who are all abused physically and/or emotionally by their mother, and willing to take sometimes unnecessary risks. The film opens on her standing on a balcony and leaning just a bit too far over the railing. When she steps down to walk away, she spits over the edge on the men loitering below. The middle section of the film, when Hasna is a young adult, is tough to watch and a bit disjointed. A lot happens and little is explained. Most scenes take place at night. Amer’s decision to use three different actresses to portray adult Hasna, presumably stemming from the real-life confusion over her identity following her death, is very confusing for viewers of the film, especially if you go into it not knowing the reason behind the device. Some scenes are quite moving, like when she tries to get a job with the French army, unprepared for the interview but convinced her hard-knock life has prepared her to protect others. The final third of the movie begins with Hasna’s reconnecting with her cousin and incipient radicalization. Here, Amer begins weaving in archival footage of the various attacks on Paris, from the 2015 slaughter at the offices of newsmagazine Charlie Hebdo to the coordinated attacks across the city in November of the same year. Hasna is ultimately portrayed as a victim, lured into a relationship with her charismatic cousin (when they first spot him on TV, a person in the room with Hasna shouts, “He’s on international news – he’s a star!”) and in the wrong place at the wrong time when the police raided the apartment where they were hiding out in the Paris suburb of Saint-Denis. The film closes with documentary footage of people close to Hasna, including her sister and parents, talking about her life and death. Amer is said to have turned down studio offers to back this project in order to maintain the creative freedom she wanted to make this combination of fiction, reenactment and documentary. She got production backing from the likes of Spike Lee and Spike Jonze. It’s a compelling watch, though the experimental blend doesn’t entirely work. But Hasna’s story is one that will stay with you, especially some of its visual snapshots, like the young sisters running around Paris in matching dresses or adult Hasna posing for selfies in full burka. This review originally ran on The Alliance of Women Film Journalists.