The general shot of an athletics track constitutes the inaugural image of Corredora, the stimulating opera prima by director Laura García Alonso, awarded at the Malaga Festival. As the credits appear, a female figure runs on the track until, after two laps, she stops exhausted. From its beginning, the film opts for the staging of physical effort and the search for the limits of bodily (and mental) endurance as the backbone of its narrative and visual proposal. The camera soon abandons the safety distance provided by this initial general shot to approach, dizzyingly, the continuously moving body of its protagonist, Cris (Alba Sáez, fantastic), a high-performance athlete for whom running and competing are substitutes for life.

In his book Tale of cinema, critic Dennis Lim points out the importance of hotels in the cinema of Hong Sangsoo, as if his characters were unconsciously gravitating towards spaces they cannot make their own. In recent times, however, the filmmaker has become increasingly interested in habitable locations, such as the finca d'Up There or, most notably, the large family home that, at the beginning of What Does This Nature Tell You?, awakens the admiration of the young poet Donghwa. His girlfriend Junhee explains that it was her father who built it and, curious, Donghwa approaches the door to contemplate it better, precipitating the accidental encounter with her in-laws, who invite him to spend a day with them that will turn out to be equally revealing and humiliating.

Due diligence is an exhaustive investigation or review carried out before a major purchase, investment, or agreement to detect risks, problems, or relevant information, usually conducted within financial, business, or legal frameworks. What is not so common is to activate this audit in a romantic relationship. Can you imagine initiating an informal due diligence on your partner days before getting married? Kristoffer Borgli, yes. In fact, The Affair is a risk analysis that opens up completely by accident, at a dinner between a future husband and wife with the wedding godparents to taste the banquet's fare.

This little comedy is late about a chauvinist who, after an accident, wakes up in an alternative reality where women are in power and men receive the discriminatory treatment they have had to endure all their lives. Perhaps 25 years ago this film would have made more sense than now... or perhaps not: the similarities between this work by Thea Sharrock and Family man and "What Women Want", both films from the year 2000 and both also moral fables with a very similar plot, are many. They all use a redemption arc for the main protagonist that goes from censurable behavior to ethical awakening after a fantastic event.

The audiovisual universe of Star Wars continues alive on streaming platforms, but for some years it had been fallow on the big screen. The mandalorian & Grogu is an extension of a series led by the strange duo formed by a hitman hero with John Wick airs and an endearing little Jedi-in-training. No protagonist from the original trilogy is included, but the action takes place in the near future of the events described therein (the Mandalorian bounty hunter seeks those who try to resurrect the Galactic Empire after the collapse shown in Return of the Jedi). And the beginning of the film winks at cinematic memory: the snowy landscape and the appearance of certain technologies invoke the memorable The Empire Strikes Back in a version adapted to the conventions, more accelerated and showy, of current action cinema.Later, the thing perhaps gets a little stuck. The digital effects and visual creations of alien worlds (some of which may recall the classic sci-fi landscapes of pop illustrator Roger Dean) seem superior to those executed in other nine-figure blockbusters. The plot of crossed searches and rescues, on the other hand, is quite routine. Like other highly commercial films embedded in larger sagas, such as Wonder Woman 1984, the result recalls what in comics was called fill-in: a somewhat timeless and not very relevant story that filled a gap in continuity while waiting for more ambitious narratives.. from pop illustrator Roger Dean) seem superior to those executed in other

The ghost is always an image that insists on making itself present. In The Sixth Sense (1999), or even in Ghost (1990), for example, what prevented the eternal rest of the deceased were the matters they had not resolved in life. The ghost has a debt and cannot rest until it has paid it off: the extension of work beyond death. For the Thai Ratchapoom Boonbunchachoke, the reasons that mobilize spirits could be summarized in two: revenge and love, although the only thing that makes their existence possible is the memory that the living have of the dead.

What if cousin Greg, one of the most hilarious and, at the same time, despicable characters in the series Succession, were the protagonist of a film? And what if, instead of servilely savoring the crumbs left by his ruthless and wealthy family, he dedicated himself to murdering them one by one to become the sole heir? The result could be similar to this crime comedy written and directed by John Patton Ford, whose inspiration oscillates between the series created by Jesse Armstrong and the nihilistic neonoir of the Coen brothers. The references are obvious and the political discourse (the super-rich are the worst and the world would be a better place without them), as transparent as the crystalline waters in which Beckett (Glen Powell) drowns one of his cousins, a brainless broker who probably deserved it. The problem with this entertaining and original film, which continues to surprise throughout its runtime, is that it only stays on the surface of the criticism it poses against hoarding and extractivist classes, and that, despite his stellar charisma, Glen Powell seems a bit out of place as the loser and disinherited Beckett (what would the clumsy Nicholas Braun, the actor who played Greg in Succession, have done with this character?). To no one's surprise, the best thing about the film is Margaret Qualley, who has a great time embodying a dangerous femme fatale with endless legs.

In a moment of The Silent Friend, the neuroscientist brought to life by Tony Leung (the protagonist of Happy Together in his first role in European cinema) weighs figs in front of the TV. The professor has little to do because he is stranded at a German university in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic. Until a program with a French scientist catches his attention. The expert argues that plants communicate with us, we just need to find the right communication channel to decode what they are telling us. Spurred on by this idea, the protagonist dedicates his efforts to finding a device that will allow him to connect with the proud ginkgo that presides over the university's botanical garden.

Aziz Ansari is still finding himself. After the 2018 accusation for a strange episode of inappropriate sexual conduct that left him semi-canceled, he hasn't quite found his voice. The 2019 Netflix stand-up special, the third installment of the 2019 Netflix special, the third installment of Master of None in 2021 and now his film directorial debut show an audiovisual creator with an intermittently off-key voice. It works best when he moves away from comedy: the last season of the series that made him famous was magnificent, but it seemed written by Ingmar Bergman. When he wants to make people laugh again, on the other hand, he treads carefully and confuses white humor with insubstantial humor.

It is not common for a director specializing in animation to pivot to live-action convincingly. And it is even rarer for the leap to be even more successful than their previous work. A notable surprise, then, is The Sheep Detectives, where Kyle Balda, one of the barons of the Gru and Minions franchise, brings to the screen the homonymous novel by Leonie Swann (published in Spanish by Salamandra), starring a woolly flock that sets out to solve a murder. It could be argued that the fact that the animals talk and move thanks to digital effects places the film on a borderline with Balda's previous experiences, but far from resorting to caricature, the filmmaker optimizes hyperrealistic technology to make it the humorous pillar of the proposal, reserving eccentricity for details that enrich the background, such as the abundance of neons that incongruously illuminate the small British town where the story takes place.

It hasn't been that long since Jurat Nº 2 premiered. Clint Eastwood's latest film was already a courtroom drama that offered a variation on 12 Angry Men, Sidney Lumet's 1957 classic. That is to say: the film concluded in a jury deliberation room to involve the viewer in the doubts about the innocence or guilt of an accused. This is exactly what happens in Recreation of a Murder, but with a much more marked resemblance to Lumet's film. So an experienced viewer can imagine it entirely as if it were a remake: eleven people on a jury are convinced of one thing, and the only one who isn't ends up changing the minds of the rest.

In France, fashion, like cinema, is considered an artistic practice linked to national identity. Perhaps for this reason, Alice Winocour has had access to the backstage of Chanel (although the brand is not identified as such at any time) to shoot this drama that takes haute couture as the setting to intertwine various female trajectories. The main one, that of Maxime (Angelina Jolie), an American filmmaker who, while shooting the campaign for the firm's new collection, is diagnosed with cancer. Her tribulations intertwine, during Fashion Week, with those of the model who must star in the campaign, the seamstress who sews the star dress, and the makeup artist who lives with them all.

The Devil Wears Prada was, in part, a film about a trio: the one a journalist (played by Anne Hathaway) had with her partner and her all-consuming job at a fashion magazine with a despotic editor-in-chief embodied by Meryl Streep. More than a satire or a black comedy, the film seemed like a fairy tale of a surprise princess with a sad undertone that was never fully explored. Its late continuation is a sequel with something of a remake: although the characters had already completed their evolution, or lack thereof, the situations and conflicts are very similar to those previously presented.

“A film by Laurent Cantet directed by Robin Campillo”. The opening credits announce the unique nature of Enzo. The soul of the project lies with Cantet, who, upon learning he had cancer, wanted to work with his co-screenwriter, editor, and friend Campillo to ensure the film would reach completion. The Palme d'Or winner for *La classe* died during pre-production, and the fact that Campillo wanted to keep his authorship in the background reveals that this is a film the director of *120 pulsacions per minut* would have preferred not to make.

The torrent of images from begins, and its wealth of ideas sweeps everything away. Excessive, hallucinatory, and ambitious as few recent works are, the new film by Chinese director Bi Gan shakes up many preconceived notions about what current cinema should be. For him, films must be narratively daring, visually lush, and thematically profound. In this specific case, we are talking about a fantasy tale that revisits more than a century of China's history based on how each period has been represented in cinema... or based on how those who lived through those episodes would have wished they actually were. Reality and desire sharing the screen.The overflowing narrative of

A farm in some corner of rural Germany is the center of El sonido de la caída, the revelation film from Cannes 2025 that unfolds over four generations of inhabitants of this house. But Mascha Schilinski's second feature (much more ambitious than her opera primaDark Blue Girl) distances itself from the grand narrative sagas that explain the history of a country from the extensive particularity of a family. And not only because the major events that mark Germany of the last century are barely intuited or are only captured by how they indirectly affect the protagonists. Above all, because Schilinski places at the center the perspective of a series of female characters who have not usually starred in grand historical narratives to compose a film around female subjectivity, also understood as an intergenerational collective experience.

Cédric Jimenez is fascinated by law enforcement. Or, more precisely, the faces behind them: their routines, their dedication, their noble fallibility. Until now, he had approached the issue from the codes of the expeditious policeman and with a certain claim to realism, to the point of presenting, in November, a spectacular recreation of the investigation after the Paris attacks of 2015. Zone 3 maintains the thematic motif, but changes the focus to look towards the day before yesterday's world: the French government, in addition to implementing a zone system that prevents residents of the banlieue from accessing the capital's city center, leaves surveillance and police investigations in the hands of an artificial intelligence from which it is almost impossible to escape.

Let's start by resolving the question that has surely arisen as you've looked at this review: who on earth is Lee Cronin? He is a director with two previous feature films, A hole in the ground and the appreciable Possessió infernal: el despertarPossessió infernal: el despertar. Credits that hardly justify including his name and surname in the title of a work, a deference usually reserved for demiurges like Fellini. It is possible, however, that this christening has less to do with the ego of the Irish filmmaker and more with the marketing juggling of Warner Bros. and Blumhouse to try to retain the hook of an iconic figure of the fantastic like the mummy and, at the same time, distance it from recent filmic incarnations, the fiasco starring Tom Cruise and the adventurous, family-friendly franchise led by Brendan Fraser.

Anyone who thinks we are facing a biopic of the painter Pierre-Auguste Renoir, or his son, the filmmaker Jean Renoir, is mistaken. The impressionist style and agile brushstrokes of the former are only hinted at in the reproduction of the painting La petite Irène that the young protagonist hangs on her bedroom wall. But the Japanese filmmaker Chie Hayakawa (Pla 75) shares with both Renoirs, father and son, a humanistic view of the world and a real interest in the faces and bodies of the actors (or models) she portrays. Renoir, premiered in the official competition at Cannes, is not a perfect film, but the feeling is that Hayakawa is very close to forging her own style (impressionistic, subtle, humanistic) that sets her apart and, at the same time, connects her with the cinema of other contemporary Japanese filmmakers such as Koreeda or Hamaguchi.

At a moment of weakness, one might be tempted to agree with viewers who believe that The history of sound is fussy, soporific, and cutesy. It would be to deny the evidence that the film has a languid narrative, that the love story it tells is presented in a dull manner, and that the overall production of the film sometimes seems as if it were designed to be accompanied by the hashtag #OnePerfectShot. But if we think twice, in the end, there's no need to agree with them. Because if the sixth film by South African director Oliver Hermanus is this way, it's because, clearly, it wants to be. It's a stylistic choice, a fully conscious vote for creative rigor.