Back at New Directors/New Films in 2019, I was struck by Philippe Lesage’s deeply moving, boldly structured coming-of-age tale Genesis, ultimately naming it one of my top 10 films of its respective year. Half-a-decade later the Quebecois filmmaker has finally returned with a worthy follow-up, expanding on his knack for expertly conceived characters with a wider ensemble. Who by Fire is a lush, intimate, psychologically riveting drama following two families on a secluded getaway in a remote cabin as they contend with career and romantic jealousies. 

I spoke with Lesage while he was in town for the film’s 62nd New York Film Festival premiere last fall, and now sharing the conversation ahead of Friday’s opening at NYC’s Film at Lincoln Center and next week’s opening at LA’s Laemmle Theatres. We spoke about expanding his scope, his approach to cinematography, what television will never have compared to cinema, his music-centered sequences, and his forthcoming spiritual sequel to Genesis.

The Film Stage: After Berlinale, did you make any changes to the film? I noticed the runtime was slightly shorter.

Philippe Lesage: There’s five minutes less than that version.

Ah, just decided to trim a little?

Yes, I did the exercise just for the sake of it. And then I was very resistant. It was just about the distribution in France. But I mean, come on: it doesn’t make a lot of difference, two hours and 25 minutes or 41 minutes. But while playing with it, I started to remove scenes after I saw it so many times and I saw it also with an audience in Berlin. And also moments where I felt, “Oh, it’s a little bit long here. It’s a little bit lingering too much.” I really love the new version actually; I think it’s better. I don’t know if you noticed the difference.

I actually only saw the new version.

Okay. Yeah, I simplified a bit the dreams, but I prefer it because, in the last dream, you don’t know if it’s Aliocha or Jeff that’s dreaming. I really like that. Noah [Parker, who plays Jeff] saw it last night, that new one, and he preferred this version, and then also my cinematographer who saw it in Paris. So I think I made a good choice. It’s interesting to play with the film, but I feel like a painter who goes into the gallery when the painting is already there. He’s changing a bit, the colors.

Just starting more at the beginning, your previous two films focus mostly on adolescence. Obviously here you have that too, but  I would say two of the primary characters are adults. What made you want to explore adult characters a bit more?

It’s not like I’m trying to do films about teenagers or stuff. It’s more like the first two films were very autobiographical. That’s the reason why I did the films, and it was revisiting my youth––so there’s that––and then for this one, I thought it was interesting to switch the kind of point of view. Because in the first films, the adults were almost absent. In Genesis, they’re almost like in Charlie Brown. [Laughs] They are out-of-frame. Of course there are teachers at the school, but then I thought it was interesting to really put myself in the shoes of the young people around the table there and perceive the adults through their eyes, even though I’m also telling their stories. That’s the point of view of the film, I think.

Of course, I’m being a bit critical with adults and with masculinity, more questioning––maybe symbolically––patriarchy in general, but really the films never come with an idea. It’s not an idea. It’s characters. It’s a story I want to tell. You can find things in Genesis and this film, also, that are echoing. I also tend to treat subjects… I go where it hurts. I don’t spare myself. I don’t spare others. And I disagree that these are all despicable characters; I think they’re humans with their flaws. I’m interested in showing their flaws. It’s much more interesting for me in films, and even in comedy, to have characters with flaws. That’s what makes a character like Albert also very funny. So yes: it was just a kind of transition towards this perception of still-young people but on the adults.

I really love the cinematography in your films. There’s a controlled warmth to it that really invites one in, where it feels as a viewer you are also hanging out in the cabin with them. Because of that, you’re more taken into the characters, so when perhaps darker flaws are exposed, you’re invested. How do you come up with the color palette you are going to use and these beautiful crosssfades? 

For me, film is really about atmosphere and mood. It’s what I recall when I think about the films that I loved when I was young. Even though the story can be violent or difficult, there’s some aspect to it that you want to live in the film. So I think there’s a little bit of that, that I tried to create: that atmosphere, that house, the woods around, the color, the choice of lenses. We worked with Panavision from the ’70s. There was probably big classics shot with exactly the same camera lens we used for the film. So there was a notion of getting a texture.

I cannot afford to shoot on film because we had a decent budget for this one, obviously my biggest budget so far, but the way I direct the films, I cannot afford film because I’m doing 20 takes on average for each shot––so it’s impossible. Then there’s work in trying to find a texture, anyway, so it doesn’t look like digital. So with Balthazar Lab, the cinematographer on this one––who is different from my previous films, Nicolas Canniccioni––the recipe came very early in the process. And of course the texture is not only about the lenses you’re using or the light you’re using; it’s really also about finding the right locations.

We shot the house in this very old cabin from the 1800s, or the beginning of the century, where it was a fishing club for very rich people that were coming to Quebec in airplanes and then fishing around the region or hunting bears and stuff like that. So that house was completely intact. It was preserved––owners now are actually fantastic––and I had the luxury to go back there and to spend a couple holidays, because they’re very nice and we became friends. [Laughs]

It’s true, though: it’s not about being realistic in it. I’m being very naturalistic in terms of the acting. I really want people to speak in the films like they speak in real life; it’s really the tone that I’m looking for. I want to remove the theater out of [it]. It has to be, for me, very cinematic and like if you’re witnessing these real people having an argument or living something. That’s really the tone that I’m looking for and I’m obsessed with the tone of the film. There’s something a bit impressionistic, I think, in all my films, that I’m trying to create this kind of universe where it’s actually warm in a way and, maybe, yes, it does compensate with the fact that I’m sometimes dealing with very harsh subjects––like, of course, in Genesis and also a bit in this one, even though nobody gets killed. It’s kind of letting the light also be in there. I also believe there’s light in all the characters. Even though sometimes it’s a bit difficult to see in some of the characters, I admit.

Another way your characters exude joy is in the music sequences you have in almost all of your films. I’m sure you get asked this a lot, but how do those come about with the songs you are selecting and how much direction do you give for dance sequences? I’m thinking of the B-52s scene.

It’s a mix of freedom and creating this… that scene is very important because it’s after the wine-gate scene, so there’s a lot of tension around the table, but it’s also very comical; it’s the comedy of life. When you take a step back, there’s many things that are horribly comical. The dancing scene is a moment of relief, and of course all my films are built around music. It’s the starting point of it for me because I start choosing music very early in the process––not “Rock Lobster,” though––and then the music is like guiding me to do my own direction in the writing.

Then one of my greatest joys in life is when you are sitting in the editing suite three years after you wrote the script and then you are putting the music on and you see that it’s working. And sometimes you need to mourn because the song is too expensive and you need to find another solution. But sometimes the plan B is more interesting. I’m very resilient about the little deceptions you can encounter, because every time I had to change an actor at the last minute, I lost somebody, we lost a location––it was always for the best. I pray to the gods of cinema.

It worked out.

Yeah, exactly. I want that to continue.

Noah Parker, Philippe Lesage, Aurélia Arandi-Longpré at Berlinale 2024.

There’s so much about the long conversations that I loved, but there’s one quote, where a character says, “TV is the reason for the moral and intellectual decline of of our age.” I don’t think your movies would play as well on TV since they are so cinematic. I’m curious if you share the belief of your character.

I was a film teacher once, so I put that element that Albert used to be a teacher. Maybe Albert is just slightly a bit older than Blake, but more or less they’re the same age. My other colleagues, they were talking more about the industry, which I found too disgusting to think about, talking about the industry when you are in film school, because if you’re not experimenting there without compromise at film school, then you will never be… I mean, what’s going to happen to you? It’s not a place to make compromises. I was telling my students the importance of getting very personal stories and digging in their own [life], finding that interesting topic that moves them. Scratching where it hurts, in some ways.

It was 2008, 2009 when I was a teacher and TV was a bit shit. And I’m not a huge fan of TV, but I can see that it’s stealing so much now from cinema. But there’s one thing that TV doesn’t steal from cinema and that’s what makes cinema still a relevant art form: it’s not stealing the flaws of films, the “unnecessary” scenes. For instance, you wouldn’t have a five-minute scene of dancing to “Rock Lobster.” Because they would say, “Okay, we got it.” So I like to take risks, and I don’t really care if my films are not perfect because I’m not looking for [it], even though if I think that I did the best that I could do. I like my films, but I don’t have the pretension that they are perfect. And I don’t think I’ve done my masterpiece yet, to be honest. [Laughs]

But that imperfection is also exploring, and it’s taking a risk. Like the end of Genesis, for instance: half of the comments on Letterboxd say they don’t fucking understand anything about the ending, but I think this is the best thing in the film. 

Yeah, I love it. 

So I don’t really care. Filmmakers who are taking the risk, playing with the structure, they’re the ones who are making cinema still relevant. Because otherwise we are being screwed up by TV. TV is a compressor. You can have amazing acting in TV now. You can have good directing when you have money. But it doesn’t really… it’s still a kind of consumption thing. And it’s made to get you hooked on things. While cinema has the possibility to bore you, but then you get a little fantastic reward after the wait. [Laughs] Then you go home and you feel like you’re richer. I’m not a big consumer of TV shows––life is too short––but I don’t really get anything that stays with me for a long time. 

Yes, everything is so resolved.

Yeah, even the best; even if the acting is good. I recently discovered Robert Bresson’s Four Nights of a Dreamer, which I never saw and it was a shock. Then I think about that film all the time, and there’s a spirit there of that film that stays in me and it’s beautiful and it’s beauty. Where are the contemplative moments in TV? So yes: I’m more like Blake in that sense. I believe we need to be fighting the good fight and no compromise. I hope I will not do “Rock Lobster,” the comic series. 

[Laughs] Well, I agree with all of that. You were last here for New Directors/New Films with Genesis, so what was the process and your reaction like when you knew it would be at the New York Film Festival? I know it’s been a long journey since Berlinale.

Well, it’s great. I’ve been wanting to come here for a long time. The thing is––I don’t know if I’m allowed to say––but they wanted [Who by Fire] for a long, long, long time here. They were the first to discover the film. I got an invitation from New York Festival before the film was in Berlin. So they wanted the film for almost two years. They saw many, many films and they still wanted it, which is fantastic. I really like Dennis [Lim] and Florence [Almozini]. I know the film is there because obviously I have no power in the industry and I’m more or less unknown, so it’s not because they need to put my film there because they want to please some entity. [Laughs] So it’s very nice and the film is having a great life. I’m traveling the world right now; I’m going to go on a tour of the world and it’s great. 

What I find also funny is: I’m also going to new festivals. But there’s also festivals that usually love my films and they didn’t invite me this time. But then I’m invited to somewhere else and ––

You make new friends. 

Yes, a new place. It’s also funny because there’s people who are like, “I really love Genesis,” and then they don’t really like this one. Or the opposite. Or they said, “I really loved The Demons and then everything you’ve been doing after that, it’s, you know…” 

It’s a lot of opinions. 

Some people are talking about my old documentaries. “Oh. Is this your best film? The one you did in 2009?”

I was going to ask for your other documentaries. How can you access them? Because I watched The Demons this weekend. 

You can find The Demons, no?

Yes, I watched it this weekend. It was streaming on Prime Video. 

Had you seen it before?

No, I hadn’t.

Did you like it?

Yes, I liked it. It’s interesting to see it as a stepping stone to Genesis, because they are twins a little bit.

It’s a bold film, especially nowadays, dealing with the sexuality of children. It’s a bold subject.

And the documentaries are not as available, right?

Depends. You would need to ask the director for a link. They are difficult to find.

What did you learn the most from the documentaries that you carried through to narrative filmmaking?

It changed my whole perception of what it is to make cinema. I think I had a concept that it was very fiction––very, in a way, American kind of storytelling––and then I tried changing my approach in terms of acting and looking for surprises and accidents on a film set, and not being attached to a preconceived idea of how you are going to make a scene, how you are going to shoot. But in the moment, you’re there and you think, “Oh my God, this is great.” And because the more you prepare, the more you can leave a space for what is unexpected. And I’m looking for the unexpected. So the documentaries, you need patience.

My breakthrough documentary in Quebec––the film didn’t really travel outside of Quebec, sadly enough––was shot in the hospital and it was a spectacle of life and a comedy of life as well, both tragic and funny and human. So there was not a moment where I was not doing something truthful. Because when you go to see the doctor, you don’t care about the guy who is filming. They agreed or not, then once I’m there they were completely like the best actors on earth because they were forgetting I was there. I’m looking for that moment where the actors are forgetting that they are even playing in the film. There’s a very beautiful quote from a Taoist code that says, “The best swimmer is the one that forgets that he’s in the water.” This is great because this is how I see work. Because when you can forget that you’re even doing a film, it’s like, wow. 

It’s like magic. 

Those moments happen. That’s all coming from my documentary background.

To wrap up, you mentioned, for your next project, hoping to have a follow-up to Genesis with some of the same characters. Is that still happening?

Yes, I’m applying for financing now. It’s going to be with Théodore Pellerin and a French-Quebec actor Niels Schneider. He’s a famous actor in France, but he’s from Montreal originally. Of course you don’t need to have seen Genesis to see this. It’s really like…

A spiritual sequel.

Yes, it’s just a name. But basically it’s Guillaume [Pellerin’s character] ten years after. He’s a grown-up and he’s full of passion for a lot of things, but the world doesn’t send him back the echo of his passions so he is struggling, and it’s tough. Like it could be when you’re back in your 20s. I hated my 20s. They informed me, but it was difficult––especially when you carry a flame and you really know what you want to do––and I was really struggling. I wanted to make films and I was uncompromising. I really want to write in a free way as well. It will be the first time I will put my parents in a film. I think they are a little too old because they will be playing 20 years younger, but they’ll have a part. [Laughs]

Who by Fire opens on March 14 at NYC’s Film at Lincoln Center, on March 21 at LA’s Laemmle Theaters, and will expand.

After Sean Baker’s sex work dramedy Anora won top honors at the Oscars last week, a Japanese landmark feature from Roman Porno master director Noboru Tanaka exploring the profession has been restored and is getting a U.S. release. The Oldest Profession (aka Confidential Report: Sex Market or Secret Chronicle: She Beast Market), restored in 4K from the original 35mm master negative NIKKATSU Corporation at Cineric in New York and Lisbon, is an uncompromising depiction of the realities of sex work in 1970s Japan. Ahead of theatrical screenings at NYC’s Metrograph on March 28 and 30 and Film Movement’s digital release on April 4, we’re pleased to exclusively debut the new trailer.

Here’s the synopsis: “19-year-old Tome is a sex worker who draws in customers around the red-light district of Osaka. She lives with her mentally disabled younger brother, Saneo, and her mother, Yone, who is also still active as a sex worker despite being over 40 years old. One day, after receiving a request for a young girl, Tome goes to the designated inn. On arrival she encounters Yone, who is unable to find work. A few days later, Yone tells Tome that she is pregnant… 20 years have passed since the Prostitution Prevention Law was enacted, and the red-light district is now gone. Nonetheless, sex work as a profession persists. Noboru Tanaka’s controversial film (also known as ‘Lusty Beast Market’) portrays sorrowful but strong and resilient women who have no other choice but to earn a living by selling their bodies.”

See the trailer below for the film starring Meika Seri, Genshu Hanayagi, Shiro Yumemura, Moeko Ezawa, Junko Miyashita, and Sakumi Hagiwara.

Each week we highlight the noteworthy titles that have recently hit streaming platforms in the United States. Check out this week’s selections below and past round-ups here.

CHAOS: The Manson Murders (Errol Morris)

Over half a century later, what new information can be gleaned from the nights of August 9 and 10, 1969? Tom O’Neill and Dan Piepenbring’s riveting (if convoluted) book CHAOS: Charles Manson, the CIA, and the Secret History of the Sixties––released in June 2019, between the Cannes premiere and theatrical release of Quentin Tarantino’s cathartic rewrite of that history––argues that while all the evidence of the murders has been gleaned, there’s a complex and knotty web of conspiracies for the motivations, some more plausible than others. To pare down the 528-page book to its most overarching theory, it postulates Manson may have been allowed (and perhaps even directed) by the CIA to concoct a reign of terror in accordance with secret government programs created to squash left-wing movements demanding progress for the country. Culling the most vital elements of the book into an easily digestible 96-minute Netflix documentary, Errol Morris’ CHAOS: The Manson Murders is an absorbing, albeit succinct adaptation of various theories that likely will never see a burden of tangible proof. – Jordan R. (full review)

Where to Stream: Netflix

Directed by Lee Chang-dong

Four films from the great Lee Chang-dong recently debuted in new 4K restorations from Film Movement: Green Fish, Peppermint Candy, Oasis, and Poetry. Now available on The Criterion Channel, alongside Secret Sunshine and Burning, be sure to read Shawn Glinis’ interview with the director.

Where to Stream: The Criterion Channel

Directed by Michael Mann

As we await updates on whether or not David Zaslav will pony up the money for Heat 2, the Criterion Channel is paying tribute to the great Michael Mann with a selection of his finest work, including Thief, Manhunter, The Last of the Mohicans, Heat, The Insider, Ali, and Collateral.

Where to Stream: The Criterion Channel

Gene Hackman

As we continue to mourn the loss of the legendary Gene Hackman, we’ve rounded up all his films available to stream. If one is looking for a few starting recommendations outside of his most acclaimed performances, Nicolas Roeg’s rather wild Eureka and the entertaining programmers The Package and No Way Out are all worth a look.

• AMC+: Unforgiven
• The Criterion Channel: The Conversation
• Fubo: Downhill Racer, The Firm, Heist
• Max: Superman, Superman II, Superman IV: The Quest For Peace
• Netflix: Runaway Jury, Under Suspicion
• Paramount+: The Firm, The Mexican, Unforgiven
• Pluto TV: Downhill Racer, The Quick and the Dead, Reds
• Prime Video: Behind Enemy Lines, The Birdcage, Cisco Pike, Crimson Tide, Enemy of the State, Eureka, The French Connection, French Connection II, Get Shorty, Heartbreakers, Hoosiers, The Hunting Party, March or Die, The Poseidon Adventure, The Royal Tenenbaums, Under Fire, Welcome to Mooseport
• Tubi: Another Woman, A Bridge Too Far, Company Business, The Domino Principle, Get Shorty, The Hunting Party, Loose Cannons, Mad Dog Coll, March or Die, Mississippi Burning, No Way Out, The Package, Postcards from the Edge, Runaway Jury

Heretic (Scott Beck and Bryan Woods)

Missionary work has always fascinated me. Not when it’s performed abroad as a means of indoctrinating people who might otherwise be unaware. I mean here, in America, where anyone fascinated with religion could simply walk up to a church, synagogue, or mosque and ask to learn. Yes, there’s a degree of marketing at play and companies have advertising budgets to spend in ways that also serve their flock by providing them a façade of purpose, but to have a door opened with a resident genuinely saying “you’ve converted me” is insane. It happens, though. People are impressionable. People are lonely. That’s where Scott Beck and Bryan Woods leave us at the start of Heretic. – Jared M. (full review)

Where to Stream: Max

How to Have Sex (Molly Manning Walker)

Touching down in Heraklion, on the Greek island of Crete, marks the beginning of summer holidays for Tara (Mia McKenna-Bruce), Skye (Lara Peake), and Em (Enva Lewis), a trio of best friends who have just taken their A-levels and for whom school is the last thing on their mind. The first thing is… well, the title gives it away. British teens on holiday at a Greek resort means booze, booze, and more booze, but Molly Manning Walker’s debut film has the power to take these prosaic cultural archetypes (teenhood, virginity, youth drinking culture) and use them as tools to tell a poignant story about the ambivalences of growing up, female friendships, and consent. – Savina P. (full review)

Where to Stream: Netflix

Murdering the Devil (Ester Krumbachová)

While best known for her scripting and/or costume design contributions to Věra Chytilová’s Daisies and Fruit of Paradise, Jan Němec’s Diamonds of the Night, Vojtěch Jasný’s All My Compatriots, Zbyněk Brynych’s The Fifth Horseman Is Fear, and more, Czech New Wave legend Ester Krumbachová directed a sole feature. The single-location Murdering the Devil is a immaculately designed, comedic inquiry into male chauvinism, following a bachelorette who invites an old childhood friend over for a date. What follows is a gluttonous journey of surrealistic touches as the tables eventually turn. A feast of feeling and ideas, it’s rather a shame Krumbachová passed in 1996 without ever having the opportunity to take on another directorial effort, but thankfully her debut has now been restored in beautiful 4K. – Jordan R.

Where to Stream: Metrograph at Home

Only the River Flows (Wei Shujun)

Wei Shujun’s detective noir Only the River Flows (based on a story of the same name by Chinese author Yu Hua) is set in a small town along a river in China’s Jiangdong province where it seems the sun never shines. The atmosphere is unrelentingly melancholy: the town’s infrastructure is crumbling, the police have turned the local cinema into their headquarters (no one sees films there anymore), Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” plays frequently, and––yes––there is a murder. – Gabrielle M. (full review)

Where to Stream: The Criterion Channel

Red Rocket (Sean Baker)

Few directors on the planet are making films that feel as lived-in as Sean Baker. Perhaps that is why Tangerine, The Florida Project, and Red Rocket resonate so strongly. More than verisimilitude, though, it is Baker’s understanding of the complexities of human nature that pushes his work to the level of excellence. Simon Rex’s Mikey Saber, an ex-porn star whose eye for a hustle is ever-present, behaves exactly how he should—uncaringly destructive to himself and others, but with a lovable grin. Part of the joy we derive from watching Red Rocket is our realization that Mikey is going to make the selfish move every single damn time. So very, very wrong; so very, very 2021. It cements Baker as one of cinema’s brightest lights, and features a lead performance that remains endearing even when Mikey is at his worst, not to mention a magnificent debut from Suzanna Son. In its final sequence, Rocket reveals Mikey to be something rare: a character completely true to himself. Deluded, but true. Thus Red Rocket is more than a comedy. It is a modern classic exploring the flaws and desires of a man who in his relentless selfishness and overwhelming confidence is a quintessential American. Might sound crazy, but it ain’t no lie. – Chris S.

Where to Stream: Tubi

Transit (Christian Petzold)

If Malick’s latest film provided a new way to look at the era of World War II, Christian Petzold wholly upends our notion of how the time could be depicted with Transit. The drama adapts the setting of Anna Seghers’ novel 1942-set novel–following a German political refugee in limbo in Marseilles–to the present day without changing the dialogue to reflect its modern era. It’s a touch of genius that, coupled with Petzold’s eye for subtlety and movement (when it comes to both his characters and the camera), makes for the best film of last year. In a career of great accomplishments (the majority of which prior to this thematic trilogy, also including Barbara and Phoenix, have yet to be widely discovered), his new film is the immensely rewarding yet thoroughly enigmatic culmination of his fascination with history, romance, and thrills. – Jordan R.

Where to Stream: Metrograph at Home

Vermiglio (Maura Delpero)

Vermigilio is a splendid exemplar of “they don’t make ‘em like they used to.” The sprawling, historical, novelistic, Visconti-esque family epic with dozens of characters has been smartly updated to modern sensibilities. Maura Delpero focuses on the working class rather than the wealthy, adopts a tight two-hour runtime rather than some indulgent length, and––most importantly––privileges the female perspective. Delpero shows gratifying ambition, curiosity, and accomplishment in just her second feature to date. – Ankit K.

Where to Stream: VOD

Also New to Streaming

The Criterion Channel

Amadeus
Dogme 95
French Poetic Realism
Pressure
Scene Stealers: Best Supporting Actors
The Tantalizing Tales of Alain Guiraudie
Douglas Sirk Noir

Film Movement+

Oceans Are the Real Continent

Kino Film Collection

Identifying Features
Murina

Metrograph at Home

Directed By Andrew Norman Wilson
Ida
Strawberry Mansion
Wuti Presents: Trailblazing Women Of British Cinema

MUBI (free for 30 days)

100 Yards
The Assassin
Citizenfour
Contemporary Irish Cinema
Ema
The Final Master
El Planeta
Shadow

Netflix

Do the Right Thing
Sicario

Paramount+ with Showtime

Rumours
Strange Darling

Prime Video

Poor Things

Shudder

Starve Acre

Tubi

Marie Antoinette
Pulse
Sunset Song

VOD

Heart Eyes
Rose

Following No Other Land‘s major Oscar win earlier this week, more films capturing the plight of the Palestinian people are getting wider distribution here in the United States. This spring, Oscar-nominated director Farah Nabulsi’s TIFF-selected drama The Teacher, starring Saleh Bakri and Imogen Poots, will get a release from Watermelon Pictures. Ahead of an April 11 release, the first trailer and poster have now arrived.

Here’s the synopsis: “A Palestinian school teacher (Saleh Bakri, The Band’s Visit) struggles to reconcile his risky commitment to political resistance with his emotional support for one of his students (Muhammad Abed El Rahman) and the chance of a new relationship with a volunteer worker (Imogen Poots, The Father).”

Jared Mobarak said in his TIFF review, “Writer-director Farah Nabulsi brilliantly showcased the abject futility of living under occupation with her Oscar-nominated short The Present a couple years ago. By taking the seemingly mundane act of going shopping for an anniversary gift and portraying how cruelly impossible it can become when people with guns take it upon themselves to make it so, she evoked the tired frustration and unavoidable rage that Palestinians must endure on a daily basis. It should come as no surprise, then, that her feature debut The Teacher would follow suit, mirroring the additional runtime with a much more robust example.”

See the trailer below.

Over half a century later, what new information can be gleaned from the nights of August 9 and 10, 1969? Tom O’Neill and Dan Piepenbring’s riveting (if convoluted) book CHAOS: Charles Manson, the CIA, and the Secret History of the Sixties––released in June 2019, between the Cannes premiere and theatrical release of Quentin Tarantino’s cathartic rewrite of that history––argues that while all the evidence of the murders has been gleaned, there’s a complex and knotty web of conspiracies for the motivations, some more plausible than others. To pare down the 528-page book to its most overarching theory, it postulates Manson may have been allowed (and perhaps even directed) by the CIA to concoct a reign of terror in accordance with secret government programs created to squash left-wing movements demanding progress for the country. Culling the most vital elements of the book into an easily digestible 96-minute Netflix documentary, Errol Morris’ CHAOS: The Manson Murders is an absorbing, albeit succinct adaptation of various theories that likely will never see a burden of tangible proof.

Rather than take on a mini-series format that O’Neill’s book, at first glance, might deserve, Morris understands that the process of adaptation, particularly for non-fiction, is often one of excision. The director smartly discards much table-setting––primarily O’Neill’s lengthy, exhaustive account of the two decades it took to come to fruition and the specific details of his investigative dead-ends and struggles. This concision results in a rapidly paced journey through the rise of Manson and the crimes he and his cult carried out, splicing in theories relayed by O’Neill and others as they fit into the chronology. Showcasing materials in ways a book cannot, Morris features archival footage of Manson interviews from prison as well videos of his cult members both on trial and from interviews years later, Manson’s own musical recordings in his short-lived pursuit of stardom, and new interviews with those mentioned in the book. The swift onslaught of various materials detailing the ever-expanding face sheet of subjects makes for an engaging watch coherently conveyed by Morris, even as one wonders if the world really needs to see a step-by-step account of the nights of the murders yet again (complete with accompanying stabbing noises).

Those already familiar with the story will find the most compelling sections focus on O’Neill’s new theories. Rather than explore any specific thread in too great detail, Morris offers up the basic ideas in digestible fashion for a mass audience to do their own digging as they desire, but he effectively argues against various questionable aspects that were widely accepted as fact in prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi’s 1974 book Helter Skelter. While on probation for years before the murders, why was Mason never arrested for multiple crimes? When Manson and his followers visited Haight-Ashbury Free Medical Clinic, were they part of LSD mind-control experiments tested by CIA agents? Did Manson pick the Cielo Drive location solely because he mistakenly believed record producer Terry Melcher, who rejected his music, still lived there? Was Manson so paranoid about his followers turning on him that he sent them out to commit “bad crimes” and intentionally get caught? Is there a deeper reason why the police waited months to pin crimes on the Manson family? While there’s no concrete proof to be found in the book or film, both convince enough that these aren’t just crackpot theories and there’s more to the story than originally reported.

As Project MKUltra and LSD mind control are touched upon in some of the documentary’s most compelling passages, we of course get a brief glimpse of Morris’ previous series Wormwood, confirming he’s indeed the right choice for this documentary. Yet for a filmmaker so familiar with this particular form of the true-crime documentary, Morris’ personality ends up getting a bit lost throughout CHAOS, giving the sense he’s crafted a ready-made feature for easy consumption and borrowed at least a few of the tropes dissected in Charlie Shackleton’s recent Zodiac Killer Project. For example: with already so much material being thrown at the viewer, the addition of a puppet Manson feels a bit on-the-nose. Sections where Morris gives the sense of conspiratorial surveillance from multiple sides work better, employing an occasional split-screen showing more than one angle during the same interview.

In an era where QAnon and other conspiracy theories are fodder for the very worst of humanity, there could be the fear that CHAOS is another account of the ramblings of a madman hoping others will latch onto his government conspiracies. However, O’Neill’s decades of digging into events that transpired half a century ago show the work needed to piece together even the semblance of an argument, refuting not only Manson-related history widely accepted as fact but those dashing off conspiratorial social-media posts. Leaving the last words for Manson himself, Manson has commendably wrapped the many tendrils of O’Neill’s sprawling theories into one condensed, palatable package.

CHAOS: The Manson Murders arrives on Netflix on Friday, March 7.

If a James Bond or Mission: Impossible film excised all its action scenes––save a stray explosion or gunshot––while employing a script with a pop John le Carré sensibility, it might resemble something like Steven Soderbergh’s Black Bag. A hyper-slick, suave spy thriller, it’s mainly relegated to dinner tables and office rooms as stages for rapid-fire, gleefully barbed verbal sparring scripted by David Koepp, returning to the genre after Ethan Hunt’s first outing. Primarily focusing on a trio of couples working in British intelligence, Koepp’s script poses the question: it is possible to have a healthy relationship when there’s no such thing as separating work from life, particularly when your job description is one of a professional liar?

Although the budget allows a dash of globe-trotting requisite for its genre, most of the week-long story takes place in London. We’re introduced to George Woodhouse (Michael Fassbender), a top agent with OCD-level attention to cleanliness and detail not far removed from the actor’s recent Fincher outing. He’s tasked with finding the rat in his top-secret intelligence agency, the suspects now narrowed down to five colleagues: Freddie Smalls (Tom Burke), a weathered agent past his prime; Freddie’s younger girlfriend Clarissa (Marisa Abela); the agency’s resident therapist, Dr. Zoe Vaughan (Naomie Harris); and her significant other, the newly promoted Colonel James Stokes (Regé-Jean Page). The fifth is his wife, Kathryn St. Jean (Cate Blanchett), a woman he adores so much he’d kill for her.

Setting up this tangled web of suspicion and paranoia, Soderbergh and Koepp have a field day with a riveting, extended introductory dinner scene where each couple gathers at George and Kathryn’s home, full of barbed, cutting accusations in which nothing professional or personal is off the table. It’s quickly apparent Black Bag is more concerned with the mechanics of relationships than the standard, world-saving lore of the spy genre. There’s a playful, heightened quality to the dialogue––claims of infidelity, jealousy, and betrayal are doled out––yet such assertions are delivered and received with an air of nonchalance. It’s all in the name of a game where one wrong word can have deathly consequences. Capturing this with a gauzy sheen, light sources appearing from the most unexpected of places––an effect strangely cozy as it is disorienting––Peter Andrews is once again in fine form.

As in most spy thrillers worth their salt, Soderbergh is less concerned about detailing the MacGuffin (in this case, Severus, a malware that has the ability to destabilize a nuclear facility with mass casualties) and more preoccupied with George’s commitment to Kathryn while secretly attempting to track her every move. In a workplace where a committed relationship can be a professional weakness and easy target for the enemy to exploit, Black Bag evolves into a story about the lengths one will go to protect the one they love. Rather than anything so schmaltzy as that may sound, there’s an exacting, sharp precision to the caustic turns where clues of potential betrayal are uncovered, in which a misplaced movie stub means one’s entire life could shatter.

The film draws its title from the phrase an agent uses when they can’t reveal anything about a mission or their motives. Transferring this cop-out to the foundation of marriage––which, at its healthiest, means no secret should ever be concealed––makes for a compelling juxtaposition: one is on the edge of their seat, perpetually wondering if Kathryn is staying loyal to both her job and George or if she truly has ulterior, treasonous motives. While the immaculately costumed cast (including a winking Bond cameo) is clearly taking great pleasure in playing the game, there is the sense they are pawns in Soderbergh’s brisk chess match, here to entertain without a great deal of depth. Nevertheless, Black Bag moves with such a briskness it hardly matters in the moment.

A friend recently remarked how Soderbergh’s career since a very short-lived, self-imposed “retirement” has mainly been the experiment of an A-level director punching below their weight, selecting projects––many of them formal-flexing genre exercies––that are entertaining in the moment but lack a certain ambition or staying power. The insular, ouroboros arc of Black Bag won’t prove any detractors wrong per se, but seeing how Soderbergh and Koepp can expertly stack the deck to always be one step before the viewer is an exhilarating thrill to behold. Not since his Ocean’s days has the director had as much amusement at pulling the rug out from underneath his audience. If Amazon’s all-but-certain exploitation of James Bond and Tom Cruise’s potential goodbye to Mission: Impossible has one feeling bleak about the spy thriller, Black Bag is proof it’s very much alive and kicking.

Black Bag opens in theaters on Friday, March 14.

Six years since his last solo directing feature, Her Smell, Alex Ross Perry returned to the world of rock in a very different way with Pavements. A tribute to Stephen Malkmus’ group, the film jumps between band documentary, biopic (and the making of the biopic), Broadway-musical creation, museum exhibition, and more to try containing the genius of this influential group. After its fall festival premiere, Utopia will give it a release this year and they’ve now released the first trailer for the fake biopic Range Life within the film. The “film” stars Joe Keery as frontman Stephen Malkmus, alongside Jason Schwartzman, Fred Hechinger, Tim Heidecker, Logan Miller, Griffin Newman, Nat Wolff, and more.

David Katz said in his review, “Perry’s film, one of his most accomplished and complete-feeling to date, exists in both a past and conditional tense. It gives a brilliant précis of one of indie music’s most influential artists: in its most conventional passages, it’s a visual and critical biography identifying the key features of their suburban and middle-American backgrounds, their initiation into “alt” culture and the art life as students, and their sometimes loving, often tentative rapport with the 90s’ big-money music industry. But after establishing this baseline of reality, Perry and his mock-doc-making, fake-it-so-real editor Robert Greene (who seems a larger artistic collaborator here) devise highly inventive fictional segments that aren’t necessarily plausible but have a persuasive, satirical feel a few semitones off-pitch from reality.”

See the trailer below.

It’s not the only film Alex Ross Perry is debuting this year as his absorbing three-hour ode to the video store, Videoheaven, just premiered at Rotterdam (read our review here) and the first poster has arrived.

After making a splash with his uncompromising incest drama Saint-Narcisse, underground Canadian filmmaker Bruce LaBruce returned to Berlinale last year with The Visitor, his explicit take on Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Teorema. Ahead of a release from Circle Collective starting this Friday at Roxy Cinema in New York followed by Landmark NuArt in Los Angeles on March 14, with additional cities, the X-rated trailer has now arrived.

Here’s the synopsis: “London, today. A refugee washes up naked in a suitcase on the bank of the Thames. The enigmatic, sexually fluid stranger introduces himself to a bourgeois, upper class family. He is invited to stay on as an employee. The Visitor soon seduces each member of the family in a series of explicit sexual encounters. He will turn their world upside down as they are able to redefine themselves in new, radical ways.”

Savina Petkova said in her review, “Pasolini takes aim at the fascistic upper class and turns the use of sex and humiliation as a means of control against its members, but LaBruce brings an effervescence to every bit of the original. Stylistically, The Visitor updates Teorema by making it look ultramodern. Colorist Andrea Gómez drowns the frame in sultry reds and bottomless blues, strobing intercuts a scene time and time again, and the screen is often split in four, each bit with its own angle and color. The multiplication of images, lights, and tints forms a rhythm of its own to guide us through the plot of a porn movie: a mansion, a knock on the door, surprise, sexual appetite, consummation, transformation, end.”

See the X-rated trailer below, along with a SFW version.

F*CK FOR THE MANY NOT THE FEW

THE VISITOR's X-Rated Trailer has landed. From @apoliticalorg & @CircleCollectv, feast your eyes and ears on the 'King of Kink' @BruceLaBruce's "brilliantly depraved" cinematic experience c*mming to theaters near you https://t.co/87GSukEy1S pic.twitter.com/QRXqj4muP1

— Circle Collective (@CircleCollectv) March 4, 2025

Named one of the 10 best films of Cahiers du Cinéma back in 2023, Rabah Ameur-Zaïmeche’s crime thriller The Temple Woods Gang is finally getting a proper U.S. release later this year from Several Futures. However, New York City audiences will have a chance to see it next week as part of a special screening at L’Alliance New York. The March 12 screening will be followed by a conversation with Paola Raiman, Chloé Folens, and Taddeo Reihnardt, film programmers from Le Clef Revival in Paris as part of their NYC tour, and critic/translator Nicholas Elliott. Ahead of the special event, we’re pleased to exclusively debut the U.S. trailer and poster.

Here’s the synopsis: “A gang of small-time criminals in a working-class French suburb stage a daring heist against a mysterious foreign tycoon and pay the consequences in the latest and possibly greatest feature from under-sung French-Algerian master Rabah Ameur-Zaïmeche. With a plot as taut—and thrilling—as the best of Jean-Pierre Melville, The Temple Woods Gang ranges wide thematically, offering both a nuanced vision of the banlieue and an incisive analysis of contemporary class relations and the circulation of global capital. But perhaps the film’s most affecting aspect is its representation of community and the deep ties that cement it.”

See the exclusive trailer and poster below.

Three decades on from Brian De Palma’s gleefully unhinged psychological thriller Raising Cain, John Lithgow has once again found a cinematic role to showcase his panache for exuding deranged evil. New Zealand director James Ashcroft’s The Rule of Jenny Pen, following up his Sundance-selected Coming Home in the Dark, finds Lithgow as Dave Crealy, a nursing-home resident who delights in unleashing a torrent of psychological and physical torment against cohabitants of the facility, most notably newly arrived Stefan Mortensen (Geoffrey Rush). While loogies are hawked and bags of piss thrown about in the film’s more absurdly mounted sequences, Ashcroft is digging into the underbelly of such facilities as caretakers ignore genuine feelings for the geriatric in order to maintain the status quo of keeping people temporarily happy and sedated. While the result is a half-entertaining showcase for Lithgow, a satisfying point to this interminable deprivation never manages to emerge.

Adapting Owen Marshall’s short story, Ashcroft and co-writer Eli Kent waste little time getting to the film’s solitary locale after the opening scene finds Judge Stefan Mortensen suffering a stroke on the bench. Whisked away to a retirement home which the now partially paralyzed Mortensen is led to believe is a temporary situation until he recovers, all is not right from the get-go. There’s a dark, foreboding mood stagnating through quiet rooms and halls. A fellow resident gets lit on fire after a mishap involving his cigarettes and alcohol. Was it a freak accident, or was a curse put upon? All starts to become more clear when we’re introduced to the freakishly smiling Dave, who barks at any caretaker attempting to pry from his hands Jenny Pen, a therapy doll he was encouraged to get in order to deal with dementia. When he sets sights on Stefan as the next target of his wicked games––using Jenny Pen as his mouthpiece and slyly concealed from those in charge––a battle of geriatric abuse commences.

With actors so accomplished as Lithgow and Rush going tit-for-tat and provided leeway to ham up the vitriol and stretch their prowess for physicality, The Rule of Jenny Pen isn’t without merits. Rush is clearly delighting to embody a curmudgeonly demeanor, spewing barbs at everyone (from caretakers to fellow residents) that comes in his path, while Lithgow’s exaggerated evil lifts the film out of its stupor. As Stefan’s roommate Tony, George Henare offers a more grounded, impressive turn in the ensemble. Yet by the umpteenth act of vile attacks, the charade of hijinks begins to sour into an interminable endurance test. As Ashcroft employs longer takes in close-ups, showing the men being bathed in all their misery––including an unnecessarily manipulative scene of a near-drowning––the viewer starts to feel as suffocatingly trapped as those inside the facility. It’s only when the film becomes more absurdly gleeful in its perverse tricks––from De Palma-esque split-diopter shots to Lithgow stepping on everyone’s feet during a community dance session to fantastical depictions of Jenny Pen––that were snatched from a somnambulant parade of horrors.

It’s not often we get features solely about the elderly, much less set entirely in a nursing home, and though Ashcraft makes the most of his locale with sharp, moody cinematography and enveloping, haunting sound design, The Rule of Jenny Pen seems a missed opportunity. Its most affecting moments are seeing the ways in which those shelling out money to be cared for are gaslit by the very caretakers attempting to convince them nothing is amiss. With those passages too few and far between, it’s Lithgow’s committed, eccentric performance that elevates an otherwise repetitive, blunt horror offering. As the actor begins to prepare for “the last chapter” of his life, in his own words, by portraying one of the most beloved characters in modern culture, there’s something sordidly humorous that he’s stepping into it directly after playing one of the most vile characters of his career.

The Rule of Jenny Pen opens in theaters on Friday, March 7.

After decades of celebrated performances in Italian cinema and television, Paola Cortellesi made her directorial debut with There’s Still Tomorrow, a 1940s-set post-war drama that she also co-wrote and leads. Following the matriarch of a working-class family navigating a toxic marriage and a daughter whom she doesn’t want to follow in the same footsteps, as well as romantic fantasies of a better life, the black-and-white crowdpleaser was a massive box-office sensation in Italy, where it is among the country’s 10 highest-grossing films of all-time.

Ahead of the film’s U.S. opening beginning this Friday from Greenwich Entertainment, I spoke with Cortellesi about capturing the specific tone of the film, being inspired by classic Neorealist dramas and comedies, the central mother-daughter story, and why the film has resonated specifically in her county and abroad.

The Film Stage: The film starts with a slap. How important was it to establish the peril of Delia’s daily life right from the start?

Paola Cortellesi: Scene one is like the overture of the opera. It’s the summary of all the things that are going to happen in the film. So it’s about violence, which is clear. It’s violent, but it’s also a little weird, maybe fun, because she goes on like nothing happens; it doesn’t matter. She’s like a lady Cinderella. There’s a song in contrast. It’s a famous song of the time: “I opened a window. And let’s breathe the fresh air of the spring.” And there’s a dog peeing on the basement. So it’s terrible, but it’s also, in a way, fun. And that’s the sense of, well: we will be talking about all of this.

You’ve mentioned being inspired by Italian Neorealism and Italian comedies. Are there any specific films you looked back on when preparing, and how did they help the process?

Well, as Italian viewers we all grew up with neorealism and the Italian comedies of the ’50s and ’60s. So, because we watched it on TV, we all know that. And they were––yes, of course––an inspiration for me. And it comes, also, from my grandmother’s story. It’s a mélange of things, taking from their stories, and I imagine that story through how the cinema told me, and the cinema was the ’40s cinema. I loved specifically a kind of neorealism that we call “pink neorealism,” that it’s about real things, real people speaking in a real language, but also with a romantic side, so it’s sweeter. And I like many of those movies. It’s Campo de’ fiore [The Peddler and the Lady], I could tell you many titles, many with Anna Magnani also. She was also involved in pink neorealism and she was great. She was everywhere.

And so that kind of cinema really inspired me. Then I chose black-and-white because my grandma’s memories came from that time and I imagined that in black-and-white––they were talking to me. So that’s the reason why I chose that kind of style. And then it changes in the first eight-and-a-half minutes. It’s exactly like neorealism; also the square screen and the music up to that time. It’s a fake start, but starting from the opening title, everything changes: the music and the screen and language, the character of the people, and the way of speaking they had.

How did the cinematography collaboration with Davide Leone work? It’s black-and-white but there’s a very specific desaturated look.

We shot with regular cameras, so the real shoot was in color, but I have it on the monitor in black-and-white. Of course, it’s not exactly what you see on the screen. We made so many changes and worked on it. We worked on set with the set designer and costume designer to make some differences between the colors of the costume and wallpaper, for example, because it could be all gray. So we wanted to find a contrast on set, and that was the work.

I loved your use of anachronistic music. Did you decide these early on and was it a way to say these issues still exist in the modern day?

Well, those choices were written and some scenes came from the music. I was listening to some music and the scene came out. I didn’t want to ape neorealism; I didn’t need to do that. I just wanted to do my film with my language. And of course, the subject is about domestic violence, but I wanted to set a film in that time to talk to the present day because we have an issue with domestic violence and femicide and we are counting a femicide, on average, every 72 hours. So we have a problem and my purpose was just to talk about it and where it comes from. Not from the ’30s, because it’s an age-old question. Italy’s changed, but that kind of mentality is here; it’s with us. So, coming back to the music, it’s also about a language. It’s not just about a past time, but it speaks to our present day. So I chose specific songs while writing.

The film really becomes a beautiful mother-daughter story. What was it like writing that aspect of the film? Did you draw from any of your own experiences?

Yes, but not a specific experience. Of course, I am lucky compared to the characters in the film. It’s dedicated to my daughter. She’s 12 now, and when I was writing the film she was eight-and-a-half. As I was starting the script, we were reading a book together before sleeping about women’s rights and history for girls, so it’s great for little young girls. She couldn’t believe that it wasn’t possible that women had no rights. And she kept telling me, “But is it real or is it fake? It’s a story or it’s real?” It was real. So I felt relieved, in a way, because she’s living in a better world and she has rights that my grandmothers didn’t have. I wanted her to be aware of where the rights come from and the fact that rights are not eternal, and this is dedicated not, of course, only to my daughter, but to all the girls and guys that have to focus on these kinds of problems.

While you were writing it, did you envision it as a crowdpleaser, in a sense, or did that come to fruition when you finally saw with an audience?

Well, this is my first [film]. I’m 51 now, so I’m not a little girl, and I’ve been working in this industry for almost 30 years, but I couldn’t imagine [the response] so I just wrote about a subject that I cared about. I knew in writing that maybe I would have touched an open wound because we have an open wound on this subject. And that was my purpose, but I couldn’t imagine what happened.

As the film opens in the United States, is there anything particular to Italian culture that may help expand the experience? And what has it been like touring the film around the world?

I don’t know. My experience until now, so far, I’ve been visiting so many places to release the film. In Europe, in Argentina, and I’m coming from Japan. I’m going to China. In every place––and this is not good news––they felt involved in a way, in their own way. For instance: one of the first releases abroad was in Sweden. And as Italians, we consider Sweden, northern Europe, the most emancipated and most advanced societies. So I couldn’t imagine that they could feel touched by this subject. But they were, because they have almost the same problem. So I’m learning in every place––I’m learning that this subject touches people.

Of course, in Italy we have direct memories from our families because we have great-grandmothers who told us about the time. I’m the last generation, maybe, who had a great-grandmother who was living as a young woman at that time. But we have direct experience and also that type of life, on the courtyard where everyone is screaming and sharing bad and good things with all the others––I think this is a typical way of living. Not now––it’s completely different––but in some areas it’s still the same way. So maybe this is specifically very, very Italian style, but its subject––until now, so far––I think that it’s universal. It is universal. And this is not good news. 

I remember when the film opened in Italy and beat Barbie at the box office, people were discussing connections between the two, about women having more autonomy and fighting for their own rights. I’m curious if you saw Barbie and if you saw any kinship?

Well, Barbie of course, worldwide, has been a great success––also here in Italy. But this was bigger, just in Italy, just because it’s Italian. But it’s something that happens to an Italian movie once in a lifetime. Just once. And this kind of thing happened to me with my first movie. So now I have a problem with how to go on. [Laughs] But yes: I think that in Italy, yes, they felt closer. The same problem, the same issues. Not just the same because it’s about female emancipation, but it’s also about violence. And it’s more specific because, as I told you, we have a problem and people are counting everywhere. And sometimes eating dinner and listening to the news and every 72 hours comes the news that another woman was killed by her ex-boyfriend or ex-husband. It’s the same story every time. Italians are full-up tired of this; it’s very deeply set in our feelings, in our soul. So that’s why I think, in Italy, the film [had more attendance] than Barbie.

With the film being such a surprising success, how does that inform your next project? What are you working on next?

Well, I don’t have a real new project. I’m working on it, and I spent the last year-and-a-half going around the world. And this is a beautiful thing, but I didn’t have time to start a new project. But I’m starting now and, of course, it’s different––even though I’ve been facing the subject in many ways as an actress, as a comedian, as a playwright. So I’ve been facing this and this subject in many ways, so this movie, it’s the end of this. It’s not the end in my life because I keep fighting for for it in every way I can. But the next one, of course, will be a different thing.

There’s Still Tomorrow opens in U.S. theaters on Friday, March 7.

After the relatively barren month of February and the awards season mercifully in the rearview, March finally brings the goods. From some of our favorite festival premieres charting all the way back to a few from Berlinale and Rotterdam last year to new documentaries and thrillers from accomplished directors, check out the batch of eclectic recommendations below.

15. The Empire (Bruno Dumont; March 7)

A year on from its Berlinale debut, where it picked up the Silver Bear Jury Prize, Bruno Dumont’s sci-fi feature The Empire is finally headed stateside. Rory O’Connor said in his review, “Playing his signature brand of rural French absurdity in stark counterpoint to the grandiose strains of a space opera, Bruno Dumont returns with The Empire: his Barbarella bourguignon, his dijionnaise Dune. The Empire is the story of two warring factions: one whose mothership resembles the palace of Versailles; the other’s as if someone glued together two Notre Dames, crypt to crypt. It follows their envoys on earth, now in human form and attempting to capture a toddler who they believe to be the Chosen One––whose mere presence makes them bow down like bodies in rigor mortis. There are blasé beheadings with lightsabers, a group of men on Boulonnais horses who call themselves the Knights of Wain, and, for no apparent reason, the commandant (Bernard Pruvost) and lieutenant (Philippe Jore) from P’tit Quinquin.”

14. The Heirloom (Ben Petrie; March 21)

One highlight from last year’s International Film Festival Rotterdam was Ben Petrie’s The Heirloom, a rom-com psychodrama in which he stars alongside Grace Glowicki as a couple who adopt a dog and learn what it means to become a family. Rory O’Connor said in his review, “This is often very funny, even as Eric’s narrativizing threatens to further hinder the relationship. Petrie allows Eric’s new obsession to spill into sequences that feel genuinely Kaufmanesque (an overused word, granted, but a distinction well-earned here). In one example, shot from Eric’s POV, Allie excitedly turns around to inform him that Milly has peed; Eric then begins seeing the moment repeated as if in multiple takes, Allie’s performance straining to hit the desired note. Whether these repeats are real or imagined is never explicated, though it’s fevered enough to appear like a figment of Eric’s lockdown brain. In a later scene, a boom mic operator crosses the shot without disturbing the character’s flow, a jarring intrusion during a moment of real vulnerability––and a sharp directorial choice that both douses the tension and accentuates its source.”

13. The Woman in the Yard (Jaume Collet-Serra; March 28)

After making waves this holiday season with the wildly thrilling Carry-On, marking one of Netflix’s most-watched movies ever, Jaume Collet-Serra is back with two features in 2025. Before his Cliffhanger reboot, he’s returning to his first full-blown horror feature since the 2009 breakout Orphan. The Woman in the Yard, which reteams him with Danielle Deadwyler, hasn’t yet premiered, but here’s hoping Collet-Serra’s post-Dwayne Johnson period continues to bear fruit.

12. Secret Mall Apartment (Jeremy Workman; March 21)

One of our favorite films to premiere at SXSW last year is now rolling out next month. Secret Mall Apartment retells the strange, true tale of a group of friends who created a secret apartment in the busy Providence Place Mall in the early 2000s, bringing back the participants together for the first time in nearly two decades. John Fink said in his review, “Shedding light on a quirky 2007 story that made national headlines, Secret Mall Apartment takes us deep into the bowels of the Providence Place Mall, centerpiece of the renaissance of Rhode Island’s capital city developed under convict mayor Buddy Cianci. (As it happens, a few months before the discovery of the secret mall apartment, I had been right above it seeing Cherry Arnold’s Buddy, an insightful film about the mayor and his transformation of Providence, at the mall’s Showcase Cinemas, but that is another story.) Apartment residents had the advantage of private access to the theater anytime they wished.”

11. Chaos: The Manson Murders (Errol Morris; March 7 on Netflix)

Over half a century later, what new information can be gleaned from the nights of August 9 and 10, 1969 in Los Angeles? Tom O’Neill and Dan Piepenbring’s riveting (if convoluted) book CHAOS: Charles Manson, the CIA, and the Secret History of the Sixties––released in June 2019, between the Cannes premiere and theatrical release of Quentin Tarantino’s cathartic rewrite of that history––argues that while all the evidence of the murders has been gleaned, there’s a complex and knotty web of conspiracies for the motivations, some more plausible than others. To pare down the 528-page book to its most overarching theory, it postulates Manson may have been allowed (and perhaps even directed) by the CIA to concoct a reign of terror in accordance with secret government programs created to squash left-wing movements demanding progress for the country. Culling the most vital elements of the book into an easily digestible, 96-minute Netflix documentary, Errol Morris’ CHAOS: The Manson Murders is an absorbing, albeit succinct adaptation of various theories that likely will never see a burden of tangible proof.

10. You Burn Me (Matías Piñeiro; March 7)

With his latest feature, Matías Piñeiro playfully, gorgeously adapts “Sea Foam,” a chapter in Cesare Pavese’s Dialogues with Leucò. Centered around fictional dialogue between the ancient Greek poet Sappho and the nymph Britomartis, played by Gabi Saidón and María Villar, respectively, Piñeiro’s latest is a feat of effervescent poetic beauty, melding poignant words with stunning images to a dizzying, transcendent effect.

9. The Actor (Duke Johnson; March 14)

Duke Johnson’s long-anticipated The Actor, which comes a decade since he co-directed Anomalisa with Charlie Kaufman, sets André Holland in a moody, shapeshifting noir deconstructing the artifice of performance. The first of a trio of Donald E. Westlake adaptations this year, with Park Chan-wook and Shane Black to follow, this one adapts the author’s posthumously published Memory into a hazy exploration of a picking up the pieces of a life Holland’s Paul Cole can’t remember. With the impressive ensemble portraying multiple roles, Johnson’s live-action debut shines brightest as a slippery, peculiar showcase for Holland’s acting prowess.

8. On Becoming a Guinea Fowl (Rungano Nyoni; March 7)

One of my favorite titles from last year’s New York Film Festival was Rungano Nyoni’s I Am Not a Witch follow-up On Becoming a Guinea Fowl. Winner of the Best Director prize at Cannes in its Un Certain Regard section (an honor shared with Roberto Minervini’s The Damned), Michael Frank said in his review, “Nyoni’s film becomes a mixture of rage and tackling of Zambian burial rites, a clear-eyed look at the impossibility of these situations for the abused, the affected, the broken. But Shula often doesn’t seem broken. She’s strong, stoic, and often much quieter than those around her. She cares for Nsansa and a young cousin who’s clearly been a victim of her uncle’s horrific actions. Chardy embodies this character with a near-silent anger, a simmering frustration with the systems that push her uncle to the forefront of the community and blame everyone else. Among them are an overwhelmed teenage wife who is constantly compromising, nodding her head to help those who won’t admit her uncle’s wrongdoings, forced to watch while someone who assaulted her be recognized for a local hero. Chardy gives one of the performances of the year in one of the films in a year; I just hope audiences seek it out.”

7. Viet and Nam (Trương Minh Quý; March 28)

A beautiful, haunting romantic drama, Trương Minh Quý’s second feature Việt and Nam was a stand-out at last year’s Cannes and now it’s finally arriving stateside. Luke Hicks said in his NYFF review, “The opening shot of Việt and Nam, writer-director Trương Minh Quý’s sophomore film, is a feat of cinematic restraint. Nearly imperceivable white specs of dust begin to appear, few and far between, drifting from the top of a pitch-black screen to the bottom, where the faintest trace of something can be made out in the swallowing darkness. The sound design is cavernous and close, heaving with breath and trickling with the noise of running water. A boy incrementally appears, walking gradually from one corner of the screen to the other. He has another boy on his back. A dream is gently relayed in voiceover. Then, without the frame ever having truly revealed itself, it’s gone.”

6. Grand Tour (Miguel Gomes; March 28)

Miguel Gomes, the Portuguese filmmaker behind The Tsugua Diaries, Arabian Nights, and Tabu, made his long-awaited return at last year’s Cannes with the mesmerizing odyssey Grand Tour. Rory O’Connor said in his Cannes review, “If Chris Marker and Preston Sturges ever made a film together, it might have looked something like Grand Tour, a sweeping tale that moves from Rangoon to Manila, via Bangkok, Saigon and Osaka, as it weaves the stories of two disparate lovers towards a fateful reunion. The stowaways could scarcely be more Sturgian: he the urbane man on the run, she the intrepid woman trying to track him down. Their scenes are set in 1917 and shot in a classical studio style, yet they’re delivered within a contemporary travelogue––as if we are not only following their epic romance but a director’s own wanderings.”

5. Black Bag (Steven Soderbergh; March 14)

If a James Bond or Mission: Impossible film excised all its action scenes––save a stray explosion and gunshot––while employing a script with a pop John le Carré sensibility, it might resemble something like Steven Soderbergh’s Black Bag. A hyper-slick, suave spy thriller, it’s mainly relegated to dinner tables and office rooms as stages for rapid-fire, gleefully barbed verbal sparring scripted by David Koepp, returning to the genre after Ethan Hunt’s first outing. Primarily focusing on a trio of couples working in British intelligence, Koepp’s script poses the question: it is possible to have a healthy relationship when there’s no such thing as separating work from life, particularly when your job description is one of a professional liar?

4. Mickey 17 (Bong Joon Ho; March 7)

While Bong Joon Ho’s Mickey 17 isn’t arriving with as much fervor as Parasite––certainly a hard bar to clear––as a fan of the pop delights of Ashton Edward’s source novel, I’m curious to see what the South Korean director does with his biggest budget yet, particularly with as versatile an actor as Robert Pattinson at the center. But our own Leonardo Goi wasn’t too hot on the film at Berlinale, saying in his review, “Like Okja, Mickey 17 ends up pitting an almost cartoonish embodiment of evil against a monstrous Other that slowly takes on a more benign aura. To be clear: I’m not suggesting the ‘creepers,’ as Marshall calls them, are anywhere near as adorable as a certain oversized pig. But the fact remains that Mickey 17’s good-vs-evil scaffolding is just as reductive and unimaginative.”

3. Who by Fire (Philippe Lesage; March 14)

After his revelatory coming-of-age film Genesis, Quebecois filmmaker Philippe Lesage has expanded his canvas with Who by Fire, a lush, intimate, psychologically riveting drama following two families on a secluded getaway in a remote cabin as they contend with career and romantic jealousies. David Katz said in his Berlinale review, “It’s a truly unrequited, anti-love triangle, and like in his previous work, Lesage sensitively reflects on but never sentimentalizes adolescent behavior: what we observe is raw, tentative, sometimes inexplicable, and put before us as if in a clinical setting, under laboratory conditions and stark lights.”

2. Eephus (Carson Lund; March 7)

If the perfect sports movie illuminates the fundamentals that make one fall in love with the game, there may be no better movie about baseball than Carson Lund’s Eephus. Structured solely around a single round of America’s national pastime, Lund’s debut feature beautifully, humorously articulates the particular nuances, rhythms, and details of an amateur men’s league game. By subverting tropes of the standard sports movie––which often captures peak physical performance in front of legions of adoring fans––Lund has crafted something far more singularly compelling. Rather than grand slams and no-hitters, there are errors aplenty and no shortage of beer guts and weathered muscles amongst the motley crew. Lund is more interested in examining the peculiar set of social codes that only apply when one is on the field, unimpeded by life’s responsibilities and entirely focused on the rules of the game. Continue reading my full review.

1. Misericordia (Alain Guiraudie; March 21)

While Alain Guiraudie earned much acclaim for his 2013 erotic thriller Stranger by the Lake, he’s receiving the most attention in his career thus far, for good reason, with Misericordia. A wildly entertaining, subversive tale of desire that would make Pasolini, Chabrol, and Hitchcock blush, Cahiers du cinéma‘s #1 film of 2024 is now arriving this month. Leonardo Goi said in his review, “In a career spanning four decades and eight features, Alain Guiraudie has cemented himself as one of our most astute chroniclers of desire. If there’s any leitmotif to his libidinous body of work, that’s not homosexuality (prevalent as same-sex encounters might be across his films) but a force that transcends all manner of labels and categories. His is a cinema of liberty: of vast, enchanted spaces and solitary wanderers who wrestle with their passions, and in acting them out, change the way they carry themselves into the world. Desire becomes an exercise in self-sovereignty, a way of reasserting one’s independence––a rebirth. It is often said that cinema is an inescapably scopophilic realm, where the act of looking is itself a source of pleasure, but Guiraudie has a way of making that dynamic feel egalitarian, as thrilling for those watching as it is for those being watched.”

More Films to See

• Seven Veils (March 7)
• There’s Still Tomorrow (March 7)
• The Visitor (March 7)
• Direct Action (March 14)
• An Unfinished Film (March 14)
• Pet Shop Days (March 15)
• Ash (March 21)
• Being Maria (March 21)
• Bob Trevino Likes It (March 21)
• The Friend (March 21)
• Magazine Dreams (March 21)
• The Fishbowl (March 21)
• Aum: The Cult At The End Of The World (March 21)
• The Assessment (March 21)
• The Ballad of Wallis Island (March 28)
• Holy Cow (March 28)
• Thank You Very Much (March 28)