FILMS from AFAR

This lyrical meditation on life in a specific time and place relies on a subtle and expressive lead performance by Edgerton and majestic cinematography to craft a melancholy yet mystical tale. Train Dreams is reminiscent of an artful piece of historical fiction like Roma . There's no grand action to hook viewers, no predictable formula to follow. Instead, the film feels very much a literary adaptation, especially with its somewhat superfluous voice-over filling in narrative gaps. This sweeping epic captures not just one man's tough, tragic life, and not just the human exploitation and development of the still-wild Pacific Northwest, but rather the deep and unbreakable connection between the two. Read the full review on Common Sense Media Images courtesy of Netflix

In an age when any millionaire can go to space, women can vie for any career, and being gay shouldn't result in public ridicule or hate, Sally Ride's story reminds us of a different time. Sally tells that story, using those closest to her to fill in the pieces that Ride intentionally left blank on her own life tale. As one interviewee puts it, how sad that a person admired so broadly felt she had to hide such an important part of herself from the public eye. What is disclosed here provides interesting insights into Ride's personality as well as the rarified life experience of an astronaut. She is described as competitive, cocky, rough around the edges, and intensely private about her emotions—characteristics that, it's said, made her exceptional at work and difficult at home. She "lived on her own terms," even despite intense media scrutiny. Footage of press conferences singling her out among her colleagues for overtly sexist questions is downright embarrassing by today's standards. The film makes its point and is engaging and informative. What could potentially have been weeded out are gratuitous dramatizations of past events. Read the full review at Common Sense Media . Images courtesy of Disney+.

Tense and well-acted, this thriller weaves a captivating story of fatally flawed characters getting lost in their own bad decisions. Echo Valley lags a little bit in the third act but comes to a satisfying twist ending. Moore carries the film with a nuanced performance as the manipulatable mom, lonely, still grieving her wife's death, and yearning for any connection with the daughter she once knew. Sweeney is also powerful in a disturbing role that wavers between loving daughter, fearful tears, stoned detachment, and violent outbursts. This film is as much about the toll addiction takes on relationships as it is the plot points of the action, and both will replay in your mind well after the film ends. Read the full review at Common Sense Media Images courtesy of AppleTV+

Honest, affecting, tender, and inspirational, this documentary is a wholly unique piece of work. Perhaps it shouldn't, but it does still feel unexpected to see a male rocker open up so freely about his emotions, as Bono does quite dramatically in Bono: Stories of Surrender . He calls it "navel-gazing," but the revelations and reenactments carry real value—not just in getting to know the innermost thoughts and feelings of this public figure, but also in normalizing the public sharing and exploration of a man's sentiments. The theatrically stark black-and-white staging of the stories and songs, including some gorgeous a cappella belting, adds to the drama. Bono describes his father's standard life question whenever they would meet at the pub: Anything strange or startling? The answer is yes—this documentary. Read the full review at Common Sense Media Images courtesy of AppleTV+

Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy do their best to keep this implausible action film (and equally improbable romance) from sinking into absurdity, and they sort of succeed. The stars of AppleTV+'s  The Gorge  take their roles seriously, despite some wild shifts in tone between romance and horror. (When their flirting is interrupted by crazy-looking creatures attacking them, they snap right back to their dalliance as if without further thought. What?!) They also carry off the action sequences with aplomb. Their efforts compensate for an ambitious script that isn't totally sure of the tone it's going for, and a farfetched storyline forced to explain itself too simplistically through a found video. Sigourney Weaver is also disappointingly underused. Read the full review at Common Sense Media Images courtesy of AppleTV+

When film industry magazine Screen International broke a story at the Cannes Film Festival on Tuesday about a group of middle-aged women who were turned away from a film screening for wearing flats rather than heels, the web-fueled backlash was resounding. Some were calling it “Flatgate.” It brought back a lot of memories for me as I used to cover the Cannes festival every year as a correspondent for Screen. In flats. What’s interesting is that this year’s 68th edition of Cannes, running May 13 to May 24, was shaping up to be remembered as “the year of the woman.” It may still be remembered as such, just not in the way organizers might have hoped. Cannes made a statement by opening this year with a French film, “Standing Tall” (“La Tete Haute”), by director Emanuelle Bercot, only the second woman ever to receive the honor. The choice appeared to have been a response to past years’ criticism of a lack of female directors at the festival. And it struck a clear chord: the lack of opportunities and stories for women in the film industry has been a theme across the festival this year, from press conferences, interviews and industry announcements to a notable number of female-focused films and casts.​​ And now, the poor ladies in the rhinestone flats. ​​ Under the red carpet​​ It seems there’s always something to divert the attention away from the actual films at Cannes. Earlier this spring, Festival Director Thierry Fremaux made headlines when he announced plans to crack down on people taking selfies on the red carpet, a practice he bigheartedly labelled “extremely ridiculous and grotesque.”​​ It’s a sentiment that encapsulates Cannes’ not always comfortable fusion of the commercial and the creative, industry and art, high and low culture, market and festival. Cannes is glamorous, there’s no doubt about it. There are bashes on the beach, interviews in limousines and parties at hilltop estates. There are receptions on yachts and cocktails on hotel patios. There are multi-course meals, bucketloads of wine and that sapphire Mediterranean eternally twinkling on the horizon. And of course, there is constant talk of movies. For journalists covering the event, there are also mandatory crack-of-dawn editorial meetings, merciless daily deadlines, bandaged feet from perpetual pavement pounding, and a lack of sleep that can shorten the fuse of even the gentlest reporter. This is (apologies, former colleagues) the indisputably less glamorous side of Cannes. Where flat shoes reign supreme. Underneath the Palais theater, where the official film screenings take place, downstairs from the packed press conference halls, deep below the much-photographed red carpet, lies a basement labyrinth of makeshift cubicles plastered with movie posters and teeming with sweaty sales agents, bleary-eyed buyers and amped-up journalists searching for a story. Because, as “Flatgate” and “Selfiegate” make clear, the story out of Cannes isn’t only what’s happening in the theaters. This column originally ran in The Daily Record .

Today’s lesson: Patience in the kitchen is not just a virtue, it’s a necessity. More on this below. Spoiler alert: I'm not always the most patient person. In activities I enjoy or that matter a lot to me, I have all the time in the world. In other areas of life, I move fast so I can move on. And now that I've written that, I realize this may be the balance that's keeping me sane. Either way, being impatient in the kitchen means I'm naturally attracted to faster, fewer-ingredient recipes. So, when I stumbled upon this 20-minute, 6-step ditty in the New York Times Cooking app, I thought it looked right up my galley. Anything with “sheet-pan” in the title promises simplicity. Right? From Fresh to Frozen If the internet is to be believed, the Italian "scampi" refers to small, shrimp-like creatures in the lobster family (also known as Dublin Bay prawns, Norway lobsters or langoustines). So the name "shrimp scampi" actually makes no sense? The concept likely originated as "shrimp prepared scampi-style" as Italian chefs tried to adapt a dish in America without the proper seafood ingredients found back home. I can relate. I love seafood of almost all kinds, and I’m pretty adventurous about it (though there are a few species I won’t touch, like razor clams, which taste like sweatsocks). But I learned to love seafood living abroad. Growing up in the States, I didn't eat a lot of variety of fish. A typical oxymoron heard in these parts is that people don’t want fish that tastes “too fishy.” In Spain, I was exposed to the delights of conservas , or canned fish. My favorite is calamares en su tinta , squid pieces in their own inky sauce. The fishier the better! Seafood became a staple of my diet, stocked fresh in markets and widely served on menus. From hake to seabass to cod to octopus, I learned to love it all. Which is why I am sometimes hyper-critical of the seafood sections in my local stores today. These sad affairs often feature limp white filets slouched atop yellowing ice. Even the peppy lemon wedges can’t liven up this situation. Okay, maybe I'm overstating for effect, but it's true that most of the seafood I eat on a regular basis now comes from the frozen section. That's how I found myself with an opened 2-pound bag of raw shrimp in my freezer. Knowing I needed to feed some hungry mouths later that eve, I popped what was left of the bag into the fridge to defrost, and I started scrolling Cooking’s database. Planning & Patience One thing I’ve seen more mild-mannered home chefs do that I’ve never, not once done myself is to get all the ingredients measured and ready before they even start cooking. I am beginning to see how this can be useful. In my kitchen, things have been known to bubble over or burn while I’m frantically skimming instructions or chopping and measuring next ingredients. I think the challenge entertains me, but the truth is I'm not always fast enough. On this recipe, I got everything out of the fridge, measured the wine and washed and peeled the shrimp – all before starting. Yeah, me! I did not cut the butter, chop the herbs or get the needed saucepan ready. Whoopsie. This turned out to be especially foolhardy because, had I slowed down and read the recipe again more closely, I would have realized that I only had 6 to 12 minutes to do all this while the lemons flirted with disaster under the broiler’s flames. Step by Step Thankfully, I managed not to burn the lemons, though I’m not sure the wine reduced by half, as the recipe called for. I’ve found in my life that a little extra wine never hurts, so I went with it. As an aside, why is broiling so exciting? Here’s where my impatience could have sabotaged my scampi – again. When my butter melted, I poured it over my cold shrimp, rather than mixing the shrimp into the butter in its warm pan, as the recipe advised (though not clearly enough for us beginners, IMHO). The result, of course, was congealed butter. Determined, I pivoted and used a utensil to spread the butter, now a paste mixed with my thinly-sliced garlic, over the shrimp, which I carefully layered on top of my decoratively charred lemons. I don’t think I’ve ever cooked shrimp in the oven before. But why not? They plumped up surprisingly fast and turned a gorgeous pink. Making a Meal One thing I haven’t mentioned is that among the items I did not measure before beginning this recipe was the actual quantity of shrimp I had left in my 2-pound bag. The recipe called for a pound, and the bag looked about half full, so I went with it. (Yes, I'm seeing the pattern.) I also hadn’t thought too much about the fact that one pound of shrimp and a few lemon slices, no matter how exquisitely broiled, weren’t going to feed all the people in my house (on this day, me plus two teens and several of their friends). I decided to turn my pan-sheet scampi into a pasta dish. Pasta fills tummies and everyone likes it. Feeling smart. Now, most pasta shrimp scampi recipes online call for a long noodle, like spaghetti. Okay, not most – apparently all, according to a quick Google search (mocking me with its uniformity). You guessed it: I didn’t have spaghetti on hand, which I discovered during the roughly 5 minutes the shrimp were in the oven. So, I substituted mini-penne. It might have been unconventional. It might not have fit in on Google. But I believe it tasted just as good! Reactions The kids agreed. Gabi and Teresa both gave it a thumbs up, and their friends approved. One dared eat a lemon slice. Another sprinkled nutritional yeast on top, though I’m not sure how the NYT would feel about that. Being a little impatient caused some preventable stress and meant more dishes to clean than necessary, but it didn’t ruin this quick, elegant, tasty and relatively simple recipe. I learned from the process that preparation in the kitchen – doing your reading, thinking, chopping and measuring in advance – isn’t just showing off. Does that mean I’ll always do it moving forward? Probably not. But I’ll go with it. How about you? What favorite quick-n-easy recipes do you have up your chef’s apron? Do you have a shrimp scampi recipe worth sharing? Also: Do you get everything ready before you start cooking? Has improvising ever worked well for you? Lastly, is cooking going to make me a more patient person?

This surprisingly tender and personal story of one man's connection to two individual whales is a remarkably rewarding watch. Patrick and the Whale clocks in at a reasonable 53 minutes, during which time viewers are treated to spectacular images from both above and below the ocean surface. The visuals are gorgeous and will stick in the memory, but what makes this film so magical is its star and narrator. Dykstra forges relationships with his whales, most of whom he has named and can identify individually. He communicates with two specific females via clicks on the side of his camera; they approach him and check him out through what he calls a "3D sonar scan." His connection is so deep that he sheds tears when he thinks he's offended one of them, and again when she returns and entrusts her beloved calf to his supervision while she deep-dives for food. You'll learn plenty from this film about whale behavior, but you'll also be prompted to think about the best and worst of human behavior and our complicated relationship with nature. Read the full review at Common Sense Media Images courtesy of Prime Video

Iranian film The Seed of the Sacred Fig opens with a description of a plant whose own seeds grow to eventually strangle its host tree. In the film, children grow to eventually question their parents’ values – and, in the case here of Iran, call for the overthrow of an authoritarian government, stifling social traditions and use of violence against citizens. What makes this film so impactful is the way one family’s story is developed to reflect and embody the realities of an entire society. Tellingly, last spring, director Mohammad Rasoulof was sentenced to eight years in prison in Iran and other punishments for his critical work. He concluded shooting this film clandestinely and, in a tale worthy of its own film, made his way out of Iran on foot. He now resides in exile in Germany, which nominated Sacred Fig to represent it in this year’s International Oscar race. The film also screened in competition at last May’s Cannes Film Festival. In Sacred Fig , Rasoulof incorporates actual video footage, mostly shot on cell phones (so, watched and exchanged appropriately by young characters on their phones) from the mass protests that gripped Tehran in 2022. The real-life suspicious death at a police station of 22-year-old protestor Mahsa Amini is also incorporated into the storyline. In the film, the older daughter Rezvan’s (Mahsa Rostami) best friend Sadaf (Niousha Akhshi) gets similarly caught up in protests, violently shot and unjustly arrested. The rising tension on the streets seeps into the household and family. Dad Iman (Missagh Zareh) has just been promoted to a government investigator role. He is working morning until night handling protestor arrests, despite his initial discomfort at having to rush investigations and even death sentences. Mom Najmeh (Soheila Golestani) is mostly focused on the improvements the promotion will bring to their lifestyle – a bigger apartment, a new dishwasher – and to making sure her daughters comply with morality rules for women in public. She serves her husband’s every request and need. When Iman’s government-issued gun goes missing in their home, and the family’s address gets published online, dad begins feeling increasingly paranoid. Rezvan and younger sister Sana (Setareh Maleki) empathize with the protestors’ demands, undermining everything their father stands for. Najmeh, initially stuck in the middle and supportive of both her husband and the propaganda coming through the news, eventually has to take a side when events start slipping out of control. The first half the film spends significant time on developing these characters. Two intimate scenes in particular are set to haunting music and given significant screen time – Najmeh removing buckshots from Sadaf’s face and dropping them, slow-motion, into a bloodied sink, and later Najmeh painstakingly grooming her husband’s face and hair. Najmeh is the cornerstone between facets of her family – between genders and generations. She is both caretaker and protector. She has a line in the film where she tells her daughters she’s tried to shield them from their father’s rougher side, which seems intended to explain his eventual unraveling. In earlier scenes, Iman seems genuinely troubled by the ethically questionable requirements in his new job, and he admits to his wife in a private late-night conversation that he’d like to give his grown daughters a hug and a kiss. Later, he subjects his family to interrogations and detentions like the inspector he has become. His unraveling in the latter half of the film is suspenseful, with final cat-and-mouse scenes playing out in an especially memorable location, but the ending could feel somewhat forced upon these characters. However, this meshes with their intended embodiment of the polarization between generations and genders in Iran, and the unraveling of traditional values and social mores, in particular women taking back power and agency. This review originally ran on AWFJ.org Images courtesy of Neon

The subject of this short film will only be familiar to niche audiences, which doesn't detract from the value of sharing her unique life story, but could limit the movie's appeal. Indie filmmaker Julia Reichert, the title subject of  Julia's Stepping Stones , passed away in 2022, before she had completed this autobiographical short. Her partner, Steven Bognar, finished it instead. Reichert lived at once an ordinary and an extraordinary life. Ordinary, because many women of her class and generation experienced similar upbringings and faced parallel barriers–in fact, this is the subject of her own first film,  Growing Up Female. Her life was extraordinary because she actively fought barriers of sex, class, and race, first by joining the burgeoning "women's liberation movement," and then by becoming an independent filmmaker, producer, and distributor taking on social justice topics. This short film has intrinsic value as a first-person historical document, and a companion piece to Reichert's own filmography. However, it's a disappointment that all that we see of her contemporarily is from behind, while she talks on the telephone, even as we're offered plenty of photos of her younger self. It's the one place where the 32-minute short feels incomplete. That's assuming that leaving off where her career begins was a conscious choice; if not, then the incompleteness of the film is part of the story. Read the full review at Common Sense Media Images courtesy of Netflix

This poetically-narrated, beautifully-visualized short film offers a glimpse into the world of an exceptional teenager and a poignant documentation of her inspiring story. It is a testament to director Julio Palacio's insightfulness that  Makayla's Voice: A Letter to the World  is kept to 24 minutes, especially in an age of overly-long documentaries. In that amount of time, the film conveys the very special person Makayla is, and the shock her parents felt when she first began communicating via a letterboard at age 14. It turns out Makayla is intelligent and deeply thoughtful, nearly a poet. "I dream of one day hearing my voice," she says (via an actor's voiceover). Makayla compares feeling trapped inside her body to the way the artist Van Gogh felt trapped inside his emotions. He used color to communicate while Makalya sees color in emotions and actions: "my soul sees what others cannot." Palacio dexterously visualizes these themes and ideas through a variety of techniques, from animation to on-camera interviews, from daily footage to lyrical images of nature that very nearly match the poetry of Makayla's words. Read the full review on Common Sense Media . Images courtesy of Netflix.

Santosh  has been selected to represent India in the International Oscar category. Crouched in this brooding, well-acted and adeptly structured two-hour mystery, viewers will find layers upon layers of social critique of modern Indian society. We meet Santosh (Shahana Goswami) just as her husband Raman has been killed while on duty for the local police. In one of the next scenes, the camera watches her, head bowed, as her parents and in-laws argue over who will take care of her now. She’s not deciding her future, they are. When she’s offered the opportunity to “inherit” Raman’s job in what’s called a “compassionate appointment,” drawing a salary as well as widow’s compensation and an apartment in the deal, she jumps on it. This economical opening offers us all kinds of details, beyond the disempowered status of women, such as that Santosh’s was a “love marriage,” and that her husband was respected for his integrity. Although we are only just getting to know the film’s protagonist, these details set her up as a hero worthy of our support. As this sophisticated tale unfolds, however, we find ourselves questioning our own faith in Santosh, realizing how little we have actually been told. Santosh initially tries to do good in her role as “lady constable,” but the male-led police force is corrupt to its core, bullying or ignoring lower castes, accepting bribes and serving as the butt of online jokes about their incompetence. When Santosh gets wrapped up in a case of a murdered 15-year-old girl, led by female superior Geeta Sharma (Sunita Rajwar), she finds skills and courage she didn’t know she had.  Santosh leans on her superior for assistance, but then finds herself trapped in following her lead on questionable methods and ethics. It appears that’s just the way things are done, and there are “untouchables” that you don’t want to touch in India just as there are wealthy landowner “untouchables” you cannot touch, even with the law on your side. At least in Sharma’s case her motivation includes helping empower women. Goswami is physically perfect for this role, not just because her natural good looks can be comfortably played down to appear more average. It’s her wide eyes that are most memorable. They embody the character’s own metaphorical eye-opening. The camera also takes on her wide-eyed perspective in some scenes; in others, it accompanies her and witnesses her contained anger, humiliation, pride and understanding.   Review originally published on AWFJ.org Images courtesy of Metrograph Pictures