78th Edinburgh International Film Festival - 2025
Reviews are divided based on categories as per the festival. Please check back for more reviews.
Opening Night Films
Sorry, Baby
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
MIDNIGHT MADNESS
Bulk
⭐️⭐️⭐️
Closing Night Films
Reality is Not Enough
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
MIDNIGHT MADNESS
The Toxic Avenger
⭐️⭐️⭐️
Competition Features
Concessions
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
On the Sea
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
In Transit
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Mortician
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Two Neighbors
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Out of Competition Features
All the Devils Are Here
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Case 137
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Christy
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Dragonfly
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Islands
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Misper
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Walk With Me
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Zodiac Killer Project
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
All the Devils Are Here
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: MRC Film, T-Street Productions and
Paramount Home Entertainment
Rating: 18+ / Run Time: 90 minutes
Language: English
Director: Barnaby Roper
Writer: John Patrick Dover
Starring: Eddie Marsan, Sam Claflin, Burn Gorman, Tienne Simon,
Suki Waterhouse and Rory Kinnear
“I was always taught the devil will pray on an idol man.”
Big boss Mr. Reynolds has hired four men to carry out a major robbery. Our trio of thieves—Ronnie (Marsan), Grady (Claflin), and Royce (Simon)—are tasked with breaking into the bank, grabbing the cash, and then meeting up with an accountant, Numbers (Gorman), who will be responsible for counting and securing the money. At first, everything goes smoothly. The crew gets the cash and prepares to leave, but then Grady discovers a guard who has tried to call for help. Acting on impulse, he bludgeons the man to death with a phone, a reckless act that immediately complicates their getaway. Things worsen when, en route to their meeting with Numbers, the group hits a pedestrian crossing the road. Instead of stopping, they barrel on, shaken but determined to stay on plan. They eventually deliver the money to Numbers and head to the next stage: retreating to a small house in the English countryside to wait for Mr. Reynolds’ instructions.
Once inside, it becomes clear that the hideout is more a prison than a safe house. With no way to contact their boss, the men are left with only the meager supplies on hand. Numbers declares that he alone will hold the money upstairs while the other three take the downstairs bedrooms. The house itself is decrepit—flickering electricity, unreliable plumbing, and the unsettling aura of a half-forgotten haunted home in the middle of nowhere. With little to do but wait, the men drift into strange ways of passing the time: knife games, raiding the liquor cabinet, drug binges, and even reading of Charles Dickens. What was supposed to be a quick stop stretches into days, then a week, leaving the men restless and paranoid. Was Grady’s killing of the guard enough to derail the operation? Or is there some other hidden reason why Mr. Reynolds hasn’t resurfaced?
The arrival of a stranger named C (Waterhouse) only adds to the tension. Claiming she has been sent by the boss to check on them, she takes their supply requests back to him—but still, no clear orders come. As the food dwindles, the plumbing collapses, and the power cuts in and out, tempers boil over. Stories get shared, secrets emerge, and suspicions harden. The uneasy alliances within the group start to fray, and the longer they are trapped together, the more likely it seems that their past sins and present mistrust will bring everything crashing down.
For a debut feature, Barnaby Roper directs with confidence, delivering a smart and slow-burn thriller that knows exactly how long to hold a moment before letting it unravel. Dover’s script is tight, carefully balancing what it reveals and what it keeps hidden, which makes the third act all the more satisfying—even if some audience members guess where it’s going. Production designer Steve Summersgill crafts a convincingly dilapidated setting, one that mirrors the mental decay of the men inside. Peter Flinckenberg’s cinematography further heightens this duality, with cramped interior shots that press the characters into corners contrasted against sweeping aerials of the countryside, emphasizing both their isolation and the illusion of freedom just out of reach.
The performances keep the film compelling even during its quiet stretches. Marsan commands as the group’s reluctant leader, delivering a sharp mix of restraint and ferocity when needed. Claflin plays Grady with gleeful recklessness, his unhinged choices pushing the others into chaos. Simon grounds the story as the uncertain youngster, caught between loyalty and fear, while Gorman turns Numbers into an unsettling presence, his cool demeanor hiding a reservoir of secrets.
All in all, fans of the slow-burn thriller will delight in this country-set film that challenges them to think about the consequences of actions.
For an exclusive discussion with Executive Producer and Director Barnaby Roper, click HERE.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Bulk
⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: Film 4 and Rook Films
Rating: 15+ / Run Time: 91 minutes
Language: English
Director: Ben Wheatley
Writer: Ben Wheatley
Starring: Alexandra Maria Lara, Sam Riley, Noah Taylor, Mark Monero
and Bill Nighy
“Sometimes it takes a blunt tool to get things done.”
What makes us do bad things? That’s the philosophical question pulsing at the heart of Wheatley’s newest experimental film, Bulk. It’s a question wrapped inside a string theory experiment gone wrong—so wrong, in fact, that the lead scientist’s “brane” explodes. (Yes, brane, not brain—no typo here.) The fallout? A device called The Brain Collider, a ripple across dimensional fields, and a ticking clock that sends a reluctant journalist through a looping, mind-bending maze to save himself—and possibly everyone else.
Enter Corey Harlan (Riley), a journalist brought to a house by the mysterious agents Sessler (Taylor) and Aclima (Lara). Believing he’s been there before, Harlan panics—only to be quickly subdued by a drug injection from Aclima. She explains that the drugs in his system will have damaging effects unless he can track down Anton Chambers (Monero), the scientist behind the experiment. Anton not only has the power to cure Harlan but also to save everyone else. Told he has only 12 hours to find Anton, Harlan sets off. But each time he passes through a door in the house, he finds himself in the same setting—though each room brings a new challenge. More often than not, those challenges involve different variants of Sessler. Luckily, he won’t be entirely alone; his guide is another series of variants—this time in the form of Aclima. Together, they race against the clock to find Anton and fix everything.
This film is tricky, and I watched it twice before sitting down to write this. At one point, a program within the story says of the project that it’s either “a work of genius or the worst idea anyone ever had.” The film walks that line right down the middle. Stylistically, it blends something akin to Wes Anderson’s practical, precision-driven aesthetic with the eerie simplicity of a classic Twilight Zone episode. Most of the effects are practical, with some green screen work, and even the deliberately simple weapon designs—almost laughable at first—end up adding to the film’s unique aesthetic. Visually, it’s a delight.
The performances are equally engaging. Lara’s Aclima delivers her non-sequiturs and offbeat dialogue with a sincere deadpan that plays perfectly against Riley’s Everyman, spiraling from one extreme situation to the next. On the other side, Taylor gets the widest range, with his various Sessler incarnations giving him the freedom to experiment vocally and physically—each version distinct and fun. Monero, though not as present, makes his screen time count, exuding an energy not unlike Tony Todd in the Final Destination franchise.
The script is a character in its own right. Developed collaboratively between Wheatley and his cast, it’s brimming with intriguing ideas, though some payoffs feel incomplete given the complexity of the concepts. In an era saturated with pocket dimensions, multiverses, and variant-driven stories, you might wonder if there’s room for another. What sets Bulk apart are its philosophical undercurrents—questions it doesn’t always answer, leaving some viewers feeling a touch shortchanged by the end.
All in all, this movie, which premiered as part of Midnight Madness at EIFF, has all the ingredients you want in a midnight movie—laughs, sci-fi, romance, and absurdity. If that’s your cup of tea, Bulk is right in line for you.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Case 137
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: France 2 Cinéma, Haut et Court, Charades
Rating: 15+ / Run Time: 115 minutes
Language: French with English Subtitles
Director: Dominik Moll
Writer(s): Gilles Marchand and Dominik Moll
Starring: Léa Drucker, Sandra Colombo, Guslagie Malanda, Côme Péronnet,
Valentin Campagne, Stanislas Merhar, Solàn Machado-Graner,
Antonia Buresi, Théo Costa-Marini, Théo Navarro-Mussy, Gabriel Almaer,
Alexandre Auvergne and Marc Lamigeon
“Why does everyone hate the police?”
That question is posed innocently one evening by Victor (Machado-Graner), the teenage son of IGPN officer Stéphanie Bertrand (Drucker). Stéphanie, a former Narcotics officer turned internal affairs investigator, has served in the police force for 20 years. Now, amid the intense civil unrest in Paris during the winter of 2018, she faces a surge in complaints against law enforcement.
Following a demonstration on December 8, 2018, a young man named Guillaume Girard (Péronnet) was shot in the head by a riot gun wielded by a member of a BRI unit. The injury left him with massive brain damage. His mother, Joëlle Girard (Colombo), comes to Stéphanie’s office to file a report. Guillaume’s friend and his sister’s boyfriend, Rémi Cordier (Campagne), was also arrested during the disturbance. Stéphanie begins a painstaking, months-long investigation.
She methodically collects street camera footage, videos from Rémi and others, and pieces together the events. Her inquiry leads her to the BRI unit involved: Officers Lavallée (Costa-Marini), Fages (Navarro-Mussy), Brzezenski (Almaer), Garcia (Auvergne), and Jacquet (Lamigeon). Individual interviews provide some information, but nothing definitive. Then Stéphanie meets Alicia Mady (Malanda), a hotel maid who witnessed the incident, potentially holding the missing piece. A personal revelation during a visit to her mother entwines Stéphanie further with the Girard family.
Balancing the pressure of her investigation with personal tensions—including disapproval from her ex-husband Jérémy (Merhar) and his new partner Noélie (Buresi)—Stéphanie confronts professional and social challenges against the backdrop of Paris’s protests. These obstacles escalate, testing her resolve and threatening to derail the inquiry.
Though fictional, the film closely mirrors real events from the 2018 Paris demonstrations. Marchand and Moll deliver a slow-burn police thriller anchored by a solid performance from Drucker. She masterfully conveys Stéphanie’s anguish and resilience, particularly in quieter, introspective moments. Gender dynamics surface subtly, illustrating how Stéphanie asserts authority within her male-dominated environment. Malanda, though in a smaller role, also stands out and brings a quietly powerful presence reminiscent of her work in Saint Omer (2022).
The film reveals the immense pressures faced by law enforcement and other high-stakes professions, where internal investigations can fracture teams and lead to attrition. Marchand and Moll’s script tackles these themes head-on. The ending may divide viewers, but its emotional impact is undeniable.
All in all, this thriller will excite and disturb—if you have the patience to ride out its slow-burn tension.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Christy
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: Screen Ireland, Wayward Films and Sleeper Films
Rating: 15+ / Run Time: 94 minutes
Language: English
Director: Brendan Canty
Writer: Alan O’Gorman
Starring: Danny Power, Diarmuid Noyes, Emma Willis, Cara Cullen,
Helen Behan, Lewis Brophy, Ian Tabone and Ciaran Bermingham
“You can’t let the past get you down, because it’ll ruin ya. You can have
a future, ya know. ”
Christy (Power) arrives to live with his half-brother Shane (Noyes), sister-in-law Stacey (Willis), and their newborn Charli. Just short of turning 18, Christy has a well-documented social media past and has been kicked out of his latest foster home. Shane, determined not to see him end up in aftercare, pleads with caseworker Gerard (Bermingham)—who also guided Shane during his own troubled youth—to find Christy a new foster placement, allowing Christy to stay with them in the interim. Gerard warns that it will be difficult given Christy’s age but promises to try.
From the outset, Christy is introduced to friends and family who could help him find his footing. As he navigates his childhood town, he meets Leona (Cullen), a teen who babysits for Shane and Stacey, and her mother Pauline (Behan), who has connections to his past and could offer guidance and purpose. He also encounters estranged cousins Troy (Brophy) and Jammy (Tabone), who represent a path Shane hopes he will avoid. Conflicted and sometimes impulsive, Christy struggles to make the right choices, testing the bonds with those who care for him.
About halfway through the film, one line perfectly anchors Christy’s journey and the story’s emotional arc, the quote above: “You can’t let the past get you down, because it’ll ruin ya. You can have a future, ya know.” It encapsulates his ongoing struggle to move beyond prior mistakes, embrace the people who support him, and begin forging a path toward a better future. This line becomes a thematic touchstone, reminding viewers that the film is as much about hope and possibility as it is about the challenges of growing up in a system stacked against you.
In his first feature, Canty expands on the 2019 short film he made with Alan O’Gorman and many returning cast members. While it initially reads as a coming-of-age story, it examines the foster care system and systemic challenges facing youths. Christy is torn between wanting to be “good” and the pull of his past, and Power anchors the film with the grit and nuance the role demands. His eyes reveal the young man, the scared child, and the adult he feels pressured to become. His rapport with Noyes’s Shane effectively captures sibling dynamics, while Willis and Behan provide measured, supportive performances as Stacey and Pauline, easing Christy’s journey.
The supporting teens, many with little acting experience, bring authentic energy that makes the film feel deeply real. Their innocence and vitality shine, particularly in a charming end-credits sequence (which I won’t spoil), where viewers glimpse their culture and hear an original composition that will leave your heart swelling. I guess that’s how they do it in Cork. Canty has crafted a truly authentic film that captures community spirit while highlighting real challenges without portraying the youths as mere victims, but as complex, sometimes lost souls. Will each one be saved? Perhaps not, yet O’Gorman’s script offers glimpses of possibility if you know where to look.
All in all, this touching story of family, choice, and the struggle to find the right path resonates through authentic, heartfelt performances and a deep connection to the human experience.
For an exclusive discussion with Director Brendan Canty, click HERE.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Concessions
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: Terra Productions, Kebrado, Sentenza
Film Company
Rating: 15+ / Run Time: 91 minutes
Language: English
Director: Mas Bouzidi
Writer: Mas Bouzidi
Starring: Rob Riordan, Jonathan Lorenzo Price, Lana Rockwell, Ivory Aquino,
Volkan Eryaman, Greg Roman, Bob McAndrew, Sarah Okado,
Blake French, Max Madsen, with Josh Hamilton, Steven Ogg and Michael Madsen
“This place closing is exactly what I need to get my life on track.”
The Royal Alamo Cinema has stood proudly since 1973, and now, just over 50 years later, we’ve reached its final day. For Luke Plimpton (Ogg), this means the end of a family business. On hand for this bittersweet swan song are the small but loyal staff: Hunter (Riordan) and Lorenzo (Price) manning concessions, Deana (Rockwell) in the box office, Ron (McAndrew) ushering, Randy (French) keeping security, and Rita (Okada) running the projectors. With “potential future classics” like Taft! The Musical, Schindler’s List Refueled, and The Bad Bloke of Bedford Avenue on the marquee, it should be a fairly calm day.
Of course, it isn’t. Visitors include stunt double Rex Fuel (the late, great Michael Madsen), eager to catch one of his own films, and local newscaster Linda Chung (Aquino), covering the theatre’s closing live. There’s also the ongoing commentary from Sergio (Eryaman) and his band—delightful and witty characters straight out of the Kevin Smith playbook. Some staff know their next step in life, others don’t, and their conversations on work, purpose, and the passage of time give the film its heart.
In his feature debut, writer/director Mas Bouzidi has crafted a love letter to the slacker cinema of the mid-90s. Comparisons to Smith’s Clerks, Allan Moyle’s Empire Records, and Richard Linklater’s Dazed and Confused are inevitable—but Bouzidi’s goal is homage, not imitation. Structured in sequences that move through the day, the film offers debates on famous franchises, the identities of obscure musicians, and musings from a scene-stealing character known only as The Theater Philosopher (Roman). I won’t lie, I feel I have made many of those insights similarly in life, though I don’t make some of the decisions he does.
The ensemble cast is a delight. Riordan and Price share sharp, knowing banter that embodies the spirit of the genre. Eryaman’s Sergio delivers perfectly dry humor, while Ogg—though underused—injects moments of that intense energy fans loved from The Walking Dead. And then there’s Michael Madsen. In one of his final performances, he’s playful, flirtatious, and deeply affecting in a scene that may bring a tear to your eye.
Filmed in a still-functioning upstate New York cinema, the location feels like a time capsule, though we understand wholeheartedly that we are in the present day. It’s cash-only, has a cigarette machine in the lobby (despite the “no smoking” announcements made by Luke over the intercom), and screens only 35mm prints—mirroring the tactile, analog aesthetic of Concessions itself.
Bouzidi’s cinephile passion is evident. While steeped in cinematic influences, he keeps the conversations topical and the themes immediate. The result may divide audiences, but its heart, humor, and sincerity—plus a game cast—make it resonate. It’s also a timely reminder: nothing beats the moviegoing experience, so get out there and go.
All in all, cinephiles will savor the Easter eggs tucked throughout, and casual viewers will appreciate this affectionate love letter to the theatre.
For an exclusive discussion with Writer/Director Mas Bouzidi, click HERE.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Dragonfly
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: Giant Productions, Meraki Films and Screen Yorkshire
Rating: NR / Run Time: 98 minutes
Language: English
Director: Paul Andrew Williams
Writer: Paul Andrew Williams
Starring: Andrea Riseborough, Brenda Blethyn and Jason Watkins
“You know in all honesty John, she's really been there for me.”
On the quiet street of Lynmoore Avenue in England, rows of double houses stretch uniformly down the block. In one lives Elsie (Blethyn), an octogenarian widow who’s been on her own since her husband passed about a decade ago. After a recent fall, Elsie is left partially incapacitated and relies on a rotating crew of home health aides to help with bathing, washing, and general care. But despite her son John’s (Watkins) concerns—and her own admitted loneliness—Elsie isn’t ready to give up her independence or move in with him just yet. Next door is Colleen (Riseborough), a single woman of 35 (not 40—she insists), who lives alone with her only companion, a muscular bully-breed dog named Saber. She spends her days idly at home, observing the stream of caregivers coming and going.
One day, Colleen, airing a bit of neighborly concern, asks one of the caregivers how Elsie is doing. After a flippant response, she challenges the disconnected care being provided, and when the caregiver goes to confront Colleen, Saber bears their teeth while Colleen smirks and the caregiver runs to their car. Not long after, Colleen knocks on Elsie’s door and offers to pick something up from the market. From there, she begins performing small acts of kindness—preparing meals, doing some laundry, and stopping by for regular visits. Part of this may stem from guilt—Saber did dig up Elsie’s garden—but there’s also genuine warmth in the way their bond begins to grow.
Slowly, these two lonely souls find each other. And despite John’s concerns, Elsie decides she’s had enough of the revolving door of strangers. When Colleen offers to take over some of the caregiving—for no pay, it’s what neighbors do, care for one another—Elsie is delighted. But when John comes by for a visit and meets Colleen, he’s instantly suspicious. She acts a bit strangely, and he’s unsettled by Saber. Having heard about the dog and Colleen from his mother, he’s not convinced this is a safe or healthy arrangement. He leaves—but then makes a decision that will have immediate consequences for everyone involved. It’s here that the film takes a stark and unexpected turn.
With his first feature film in over a decade, Williams has crafted a powerful story about two people who seem like total opposites but are really just two souls looking for companionship in whatever form it may take. Elsie is a widow who longs for more frequent visits from her son, and Colleen, through self-destructive habits and quiet isolation, reveals the emotional scars left by a traumatic past—unfolded slowly and cleverly over the course of the film. As intended, both women represent individuals who have been abandoned by the support systems they should be able to rely on. As a result of this, each character behaves in ways that may appear to have ulterior motives—but whether or not they do is left entirely up to the viewer. That ambiguity is part of what makes this dialogue-driven two-hander between Riseborough and Blethyn so compelling.
These two Academy Award-nominated actors are absolutely flawless in their performances. There’s a quiet subtlety to both, and as the film shifts and the characters are pushed to behave differently, you remain completely invested in their journeys. The tonal shift in the final third may feel jarring at first—but then again, so is life. Riseborough plays Colleen with such layered complexity that, as her actions evolve, you’re never quite sure whether you’re watching a well-meaning misfit or a manipulative operator taking advantage of a vulnerable woman. Blethyn’s quiet, reserved performance is equally precise, and when the harrowing third act unfolds, even she becomes a question mark in the viewer’s mind.
All in all, this is a fascinating character study about isolation and the deep human need for connection—one that will continue to subvert your expectations until one of the final, jaw-dropping frames.
Review by Cinephile Mike
In Transit
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: BKE Productions, Little Language Films
and Valmora Productions
Rating: NR / Run Time: 82
Language: English
Director: Jaclyn Bethany
Writer: Alex Sarrigeorgiou
Starring: Alex Sarrigeorgiou, François Arnaud, Theodore Bouloukos
and Jennifer Ehle
“It’s interesting, your job. You get to observe people so intimately, and watch them go about their lives every night.”
Lucy (Sarrigeorgiou) is mostly content with her life in Maine. Working behind the bar once co-owned and built by her late father, she’s a fixture in the small community. She lives with her boyfriend, talented chef Tom (Arnaud), and life is… good. Not great, but good. Then, things begin to shift. The bar’s co-owner Garry (Bouloukos) announces that he’s decided to sell—he needs to move on, care for his family, and feels the time is right. Lucy and Tom decide they’ll try to buy the bar, but Garry needs time to think about it. Doing so, however, will require a significant amount of money.
Enter Ilse (Ehle), an artist who has lived all over the world but now finds herself creatively blocked. Through a colleague, she comes to stay in a small, future artist residency in town. She frequents the bar, soaking in the atmosphere—and, in doing so, takes notice of Lucy. One night, while sketching her, the two strike up a conversation. Through a bit of negotiation, Ilse offers Lucy $25 an hour to pose for her, captivated by Lucy’s natural poses. Lucy agrees, seeing an opportunity to bring in extra funds, but chooses not to tell Tom—at least not at first.
As their sessions progress, Lucy and Ilse slowly reveal intimate details about their lives. During one visit, Lucy casually settles into a chair that sparks inspiration for Ilse, who asks her to hold the pose—and then requests she pose nude. Initially uncomfortable, Lucy hesitates, but eventually agrees.
Over time, Ilse becomes more entwined with Lucy and Tom, sharing meals and insisting they attend the premiere of her upcoming art show, which will feature a portrait of Lucy. While Tom learns some details about the work, he isn’t fully aware of everything—including a moment between Ilse and Lucy where their professional relationship briefly takes a turn. Without saying too much more, In Transit becomes a poignant story about two women finding new meaning in life through each other.
In her first feature as a writer, Sarrigeorgiou delivers a beautiful, thought-provoking film that smartly avoids painting villains. Instead, she crafts human beings—flawed, searching, and unable to avoid the pain that inevitably crosses their paths. The relationship between Ilse and Lucy feels authentic, not just a convenient plot device. Sarrigeorgiou’s performance makes you feel every flicker of Lucy’s inner life, while Ehle shines in a quiet, reserved turn that hints at the kind of life Lucy might long for.
Visually, the film is stunning. Samantha Tetro’s cinematography offers frames that feel like works of art themselves—lingering shots of Ilse’s studio, the snow-covered New England landscape, and painterly compositions throughout. The imagery is elevated by Juan Pablo Daranas Molina’s beautiful, at times haunting piano score, evoking shades of Eyes Wide Shut. Director Jaclyn Bethany draws us into this world and holds us there until she’s ready to let us go, leaving us to ponder what comes next as the credits roll.
All in all, this tender, female-driven narrative is thought-provoking and deeply honest, with Sarrigeorgiou proving herself a powerful new voice with wonderful things ahead.
For an exclusive discussion with Writer, Producer and Performer Alex Sarrigeorgiou, Director and Producer Jaclyn Bethany, Performer Franço is Arnaud and Producer C.C. Kellogg, click HERE.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Islands
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: BFI, Augenschein Filmproduktion,
Protagonist Pictures
Rating: 15+ / Run Time: 123 minutes
Language: English and Spanish with English Subtitles
Director: Jan-Ole Gerster
Writer(s): Jan-Ole Gerster, Blaz Kutin and Lawrie Doran
Starring: Sam Riley, Stacy Martin, Jack Farthing, Dylan Torrell,
Bruna Cusí Ahmed Boulane and Pep Ambròs
“Is this because of the missing guy? Why are you so involved?”
Tom (Riley), once a celebrated tennis champion known as “Ace,” now drifts through life in a vagabond haze, working as a tennis instructor at a Riu Hotel in Fuerteventura, the second-largest of Spain’s Canary Islands. His days are fueled by hangovers and the occasional swig from a bottle stashed in a tennis ball can. Lessons are taught on autopilot, nights are lost at the Waikiki Nightclub, and his bed is often shared with women — sometimes even clients from the hotel. He’s content to simply get by, surrounded by a ragtag circle that includes his co-worker Maria (Cusí), the hotel’s front desk clerk, Jorge (Ambròs), a local police officer, and Raffi (Boulane) a local camel farmer.
Everything shifts when Anne (Martin), an enigmatic young woman, arrives requesting private lessons for her seven-year-old son, Anton (Torrell). She insists on exclusivity — something she claims her husband Dave (Farthing) would also prefer. Tom agrees, and after their first session, he notices promising skill in Anton — and in Dave, during a friendly rally. Sharing their frustrations about the hotel, Tom pulls strings to improve their accommodations. Grateful, they invite him to dinner.
Over wine, the cracks in Anne and Dave’s marriage show. Jabs are traded, personal details spill out, and Tom finds himself drawn into their orbit. He urges them to explore the island beyond the resort. The next day, he takes them on a day trip, after which Anne and Anton head back to the hotel, while Dave persuades Tom to take him for a drink at the Waikiki Nightclub. The night ends with Tom waking up by the hotel pool, hungover — and Dave missing.
When Dave never returns, Anne and Tom begin searching for answers. But as their investigation deepens, Tom becomes increasingly entangled with Anne — raising concern among his friends. And when certain truths begin to surface, it’s clear not everything Tom has seen — or been told — can be trusted.
Gerster crafts a slow-burn thriller that uses the sun-soaked setting as both a lure and a trap. Red herrings are carefully laid, and Dascha Dauenhauer’s score keeps the tension simmering until it boils over. Riley plays Tom as a man both disengaged from and vulnerable to the world around him, drawing sympathy even as he stumbles deeper into trouble. The cinematography by Juan Sarmiento G. is striking, rendering the island’s vast landscapes as both idyllic and isolating — a paradise with shadows.
All told, this is a taut, twisting mystery that keeps you guessing until the final turn.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Misper
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: Fresh Orange, Night Walks and Pig Indistries
Rating: 15+ / Run Time: 73 minutes
Language: English
Director: Harry Sherriff
Writer: Harry Sherriff and Laurence Tratalos
Starring: Samuel Blenkin, Christine Bottomley, Emily Carey, Daniel Ryan,
Oliver Ryan, Sunil Patel, Rosalind Adler and Iona Champain
“You’re allowed to feel bad, but you don’t have to feel bad every
second of the day.”
The Grand, a once-bustling seaside hotel, is now a faded shell of its past. Half-covered in scaffolding and struggling to stay afloat, the century-old establishment survives thanks to its devoted staff: manager Gary (Daniel Ryan), concierge and longtime resident Leonard (Samuel Blenkin), handyman Khalid (Patel), and employees Pamela (Bottomley), Viviane (Adler), and Elle (Carey). To say Leonard has a crush on Elle is an understatement—though their exchanges rarely go beyond polite smiles and brief words, even after years of working side by side.
When Elle suddenly stops showing up for work, Leonard’s concern grows. Days pass with no sign of her, and after a week her father (Oliver Ryan) confirms she has gone missing. Last seen at a bus stop, she never made it home. Rather than follow a traditional investigation, Misper stays within the walls of The Grand, observing how the staff process her absence. Some cling to denial, others sink into despair, while Leonard is consumed by regret for never voicing his feelings. His grief manifests in unsettling dreams, with new hire Faye (Champain) offering the only outlet for him to share his emotions.
What makes Misper stand out is its refusal to follow the conventions of the “missing person” story. Instead of detectives and case details, the narrative is rooted in the emotional ripple effect left behind. Blenkin’s performance anchors the film—his Leonard is raw, tender, and deeply sympathetic—while the supporting cast each earn small but affecting moments.
Visually, the film is striking. The Grand itself, somewhere between the Overlook of The Shining and the Hotel Excelsior from The Witches, becomes a character in its own right. Empty rooms, looming scaffolding, and the vast, windswept seaside all mirror Leonard’s isolation. Bart Bazaz’s cinematography amplifies this sense of space and absence, contrasting grandeur with quiet desolation.
Where the film stumbles is in its tone. Blenkin’s storyline is gripping, but attempts to expand focus to the rest of the ensemble often feel underdeveloped. At just 73 minutes, the film doesn’t have enough time to give each perspective full weight, which leaves certain threads unresolved. The shifts in mood—ranging from despair to denial to flashes of dry British humor—can be jarring, but also echo the stages of grief that the characters are cycling through. At times this approach works, adding texture and unpredictability, but in other moments it disrupts the film’s rhythm and makes it harder to stay immersed. Nir Perlman’s score similarly wavers—effective in parts, but punctuated by cues that clash with the mood. One can’t help but wonder whether the story might have benefitted from a longer runtime, or even a limited series format, to give its characters and themes more space to breathe.
All in all, Misper is an ambitious and affecting directorial debut. Its unevenness is part of its identity, reflecting the turbulence of grief itself. Anchored by Samuel Blenkin’s moving performance and bolstered by a strong sense of place, the film leaves a lasting impression.
For an exclusive discussion with Co-Writer and Director Harry Sherriff and Co-Writer Laurence Tratalos, click HERE.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Mortician
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: NivaArt
Rating: 15+ / Run Time: 95 minutes
Language: Persian (Farsi)with English subtitles
Director: Abdolreza Kahani
Writer: Abdolreza Kahani
Starring: Nima Sadr and Gola
“If I’m to die, I’ll do it myself, proudly.”
Deep in the Canadian wilderness, protest singer Jana (Gola) lives in seclusion, almost nomadic as she survives with the looming threat of the Iranian regime, whose presence in Canada endangers not only her but her family as well. For exiled activists like Jana, the stakes are devastatingly high—families left behind are often captured and tortured for information. Faced with the one choice she can control, Jana decides she wants to end her life on her own terms and be buried in the woods around her home. Before she goes, however, she is determined to preserve her words and songs—art that calls out executions and voices the need for change in Iran. This mission brings her into the path of Mojtaba (Sadr).
Mojtaba is an Iranian mortician sent to Canada, tasked with washing the bodies of male Iranian exiles before burial, as dictated by custom. His life is itinerant and modest—he travels with a suitcase, taking small jobs to get by. Jana’s request unsettles him: not only would it be sacrilegious for a man to wash the body of a woman, but his involvement could have far-reaching consequences. Yet, with his own work at risk and Jana’s persistence, he reluctantly agrees. Their secret meetings to record and bank Jana’s messages ignite an uneasy partnership built on conflicting faith, fear, and duty.
Theirs is a volatile union, charged with moral, spiritual, and political tension. As others in the Iranian exile community become aware of the arrangement, secrecy unravels and loyalties are tested, leading to a crescendo of emotional and ethical reckoning.
Director Abdolreza Kahani confronts urgent, timely themes with nuance, building characters who are not symbols but fully realized, layered individuals. Sadr, memorable from last year’s A Shrine (also directed by Kahani), gives a stunningly empathetic performance, embodying Mojtaba’s struggle with faith and survival with quiet, aching authenticity. Gola, in her first feature film role, is magnetic. Known primarily for her music, she infuses Jana with strength, vulnerability, and a sense of urgency that makes her both inspirational and heartbreakingly human.
Kahani’s “one-man cinema” approach heightens the film’s intensity. Shot entirely on an iPhone and carried almost solely by his efforts—writer, director, editor, producer, and cinematographer—this stripped-down production feels raw, immediate, and intimate. The result is a story with documentary-like power, its message amplified by the urgency of its form. From the tense opening to a finale that leaves you breathless, Kahani never lets the emotional stakes waver.
All in all, this extraordinary, deeply affecting drama pulls at your heartstrings thanks to a solid script, truly lived-in performances, and fearless filmmaking.
For an exclusive discussion with Writer, Director and Producer Abdolreza Kahani, Producer and Performer Nima Sadr, Composer and Performer Gola and Producer Mojan Safari, click HERE.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk
—
Film Production Companies: Rêves d'Eau Productions and 24 Images
Rating: NR / Run Time: 113
Language: Farsi with English Subtitles
Director: Sepideh Farsi
Starring: Fatima Hassouna and Sepideh Farsi
“It feels weird to me when you describe this to me with your smile.”
Fatima Hassouna is a ray of sunshine. From the moment we meet her, her warm smile, hopeful tone, and resilience in the face of unimaginable hardship shine through. Over the roughly one year we spend with Fatima, we witness her confronting a relentless array of challenges—scarcity of food, constant fear, unstable shelter, and, perhaps most surprisingly, struggles with maintaining a reliable internet connection. Why does that matter? Because Fatima and the remaining ten members of her family live crammed into a single room or makeshift shelter in North Gaza, struggling to survive amid ongoing bombings and attacks.
Filmmaker Sepideh Farsi, barred from entering Gaza, began documenting by interviewing refugees fleeing the region. Through a connection, she met Fatima, a well-known photographer dedicated to capturing life in Gaza. Despite the chaos, Fatima continues to document moments both heartbreaking and hopeful—from children smiling amid rubble to the grim realities of war, including haunting images of victims, when she can; however, even this has become challenging.
Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk unfolds almost entirely through a series of unedited FaceTime calls between Fatima and Farsi over the course of a year. Farsi films her phone screen during these conversations, many of which could have been their last, as Israeli bombs fall relentlessly. Often, there’s a palpable tension waiting for the call to connect, making every successful connection a small victory. And in those moments, Fatima’s infectious smile fills the screen—though cracks in her façade appear, reminding us of the immense weight she carries.
When asked how it feels to be a Palestinian in Gaza, Fatima replies with quiet pride and a hopeful belief that things will eventually improve. It is this optimism that offers a flicker of light in an otherwise bleak landscape.
This film has received extensive media coverage given the gravity of the ongoing conflict it portrays. While I am fully aware of the broader Palestinian-Israeli situation, I hadn’t known Fatima’s story before watching. I’ve deliberately avoided revealing key developments here to keep the review spoiler-free. The documentary is powerful, raw, and deeply affecting. Although the repeatedly disrupted phone calls can sometimes feel frustrating, they also underscore the precariousness of Fatima’s reality. Filmmaker Sepideh Farsi and co-editor Farahnaz Sharifi interweave these intimate conversations with Fatima’s photography and global news footage, grounding this personal narrative within a larger context. The pacing slows at times, but the film remains timely and essential—a firsthand account of a situation too often reduced to headlines.
All in all, this is a film that will sit uneasily with many viewers but deserves to be seen. It’s a voice crying out from a place of turmoil, offering awareness and humanity amid conflict.
Out of respect for the current circumstances and the sensitivities involved, I have elected not to assign a star rating to this film.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Odyssey
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: The Electric Shadow Company and
Stigma Films
Rating: 18+ / Run Time: 110 minutes
Language: English
Director: Gerard Johnson
Writer: Austin Collings and Gerard Johnson
Starring: Polly Maberly, Jasmine Blackborow, Guy Burnet, Ryan Hayes,
Charlie Palmer Rothwell, Kellie Shirley and Mikael Persbrandt
“We’re all in debt, one way or another.”
Real estate is often said to be a cutthroat business, and Gerard Johnson’s Odyssey throws us into the chaos of a single, high-stakes week in the life of Natasha Flynn (Maberly), where one week can make—or break—you. From a painful Monday morning and a wisdom tooth procedure to the tense crescendo of Friday, Natasha navigates a world that is as glamorous as it is unforgiving. Ruthless, forthright, and constantly oscillating between charm and fury, she balances a million-watt smile for clients with lashing out at her staff amid near-nightly drug and alcohol-fueled binges—all to keep her business afloat. She spares no expense, entering loans both above board and decidedly less so, and her drive is matched by a fear of falling behind in a world that punishes weakness.
Natasha’s small team is an eclectic mix: Spike (Palmer Rothwell) tinkers endlessly with an app designed to take the company forward; Safi (Shirley) endures Natasha’s gruffness for the sake of the team; and trainee Dylan (Blackborrow) is just finding her footing in a high-pressure environment. Together, they navigate the central challenge of Calypso Farms, a dilapidated London countryside estate that seems ripped from the pages of a horror story—its sprawling halls and eerie layout lending an otherworldly tension to the proceedings. Meanwhile, Natasha juggles potential expansion plans, dodges creditors, and contemplates a merger—all while reports surface about a missing rival agent, adding an undercurrent of danger to an already volatile world.
Her nights are spent deep in the club scene with one of her lenders, Dan (Burnet), whose pressure takes both financial and personal forms. When Natasha is summoned by Dan and his brother Will (Hayes) to a secret location, she is pulled into a dangerous situation: help them solve a problem, and her debts vanish. Initially refusing, she eventually turns to an old ally, the Viking (Persbrandt), whose calm menace provides a stabilizing—if unnerving—force in an increasingly chaotic week.
While perhaps fifteen minutes too long, the film wastes no time establishing Natasha’s character: a force of ambition, charm, and volatility. Collings and Johnson’s script grips as the plot escalates, taking viewers through high-energy sequences reminiscent of 2019’s Uncut Gems, though the visual style here is more polished and deliberate. London itself becomes a character, its sophisticated offices and club scene juxtaposed against the seedy underworld Natasha navigates, making the cityscape integral to the tension. Matt Johnson’s relentless, pulsing score underscores the frenzy without overwhelming it, while Korsshan Schlauer’s documentary-like camerawork puts viewers on the ground amid every chaotic decision, every risky move.
Maberly delivers a powerhouse performance, flipping Natasha’s personality on a dime and creating a protagonist who is as compelling as she is frustrating—someone you root for and against in equal measure. Persbrandt, in a smaller but memorable role, exudes controlled terror that heightens the stakes. The supporting cast is equally effective: Rothwell, Shirley, and Blackborrow provide subtle counterpoints to Natasha’s intensity, giving the world texture and depth.
All in all, Odyssey is a thrilling, high-energy ride through ambition, risk, and the underbelly of London’s real estate and nightlife worlds, anchored by outstanding performances and a gripping narrative that refuses to let go.
For an exclusive discussion with Performer and Producer Polly Maberly and Co-Writer and Director Gerard Johnson, click HERE.
Review by Cinephile Mike
On the Sea
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: The Yellow Affair and Red Union Films
Rating: 18+ / Run Time: 111 minutes
Language: English
Director: Helen Walsh
Writer: Helen Walsh
Starring: Barry Ward, Lorne MacFadyen, Liz White, Henry Lawfull,
Celyn Jones, Leisa Gwenllian and Danny Webb
“Look, everyone has a choice. Either live a lie, or you don’t.”
Jack (Ward) lives a seemingly simple life in a small North Wales fishing town. In remission from cancer, he co-runs the family mussel farm with his brother Dyfan (Jones), though the business is under pressure. Jack resists expanding operations into deeper waters, leaving him caught between tradition and survival. His son Tom (Lawfull) shows little interest in joining the trade, preferring time with friends and his girlfriend Lois (Gwenllian), and this generational tension strains Jack’s relationship with his wife Maggie (White). Beneath his quiet, hardworking exterior, Jack senses something missing.
That absence takes shape in Daniel (MacFadyen), a drifter taking whatever work he can find. When circumstances draw the two men together, their connection develops with an honesty that sidesteps cliché. In a close-knit, religious community where convention rules, Jack and Daniel’s relationship carries weight and consequence. Walsh’s writing doesn’t push toward melodrama; instead, it unfolds as a gradual exploration of love, desire, shame, and guilt—each emotion given space to breathe. The story’s authenticity ensures that when the relationship inevitably becomes known, the ripple effects feel deeply earned.
Walsh’s film succeeds not only as a love story but also as a portrait of a community where every choice reverberates. Jack’s resistance to modernize the mussel farm reflects his desire to preserve stability, yet this same impulse traps him in a life that no longer feels true. In this way, Walsh draws a subtle parallel between Jack’s professional and personal dilemmas: to adapt means risking everything, but to remain static means denying himself.
What makes On the Sea stand apart is its handling of emotional complexity. Love and desire are depicted with warmth and sincerity, but the film never shies from the corrosive effects of shame and guilt. Jack’s every decision carries consequences, not just for himself but for his wife, son, and brother. The ripple effects of his relationship with Daniel are felt across the community, a reminder that in small towns, private lives are never truly private.
Ward and MacFadyen are exceptional, bringing tenderness and restraint to roles that could easily have been flattened into stereotype. Their chemistry recalls Brokeback Mountain (2004), but On the Sea avoids melodrama by staying grounded in character. Jack’s quiet conflict is mirrored against Daniel’s ease in his own skin, creating a dynamic both fraught and deeply moving. Walsh roots her story in the authenticity of two men carving out honesty in a world that discourages it.
The film’s craft is equally assured. Cinematographer Sam Goldie evokes the harsh beauty of coastal life through gray-blue tones, capturing both the weight of routine and the possibility of change. Feliz Rösch’s delicate score, paired with the natural soundscape of the sea, immerses us fully in this small community. Every detail—from the textures of the working boats to the ever-present crash of waves—grounds the drama in a lived-in environment.
All in all, On the Sea is a rough yet tender love story—familiar in its heartbreak, but distinctive in its honesty. By refusing easy answers, Walsh has created a film that resonates long after it ends, a portrait of desire and consequence etched against the grey waters of North Wales.
For an exclusive discussion with the stars of the film, Barry Ward and Lorne MacFadyen, click HERE.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Reality is Not Enough
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: Screen Scotland, Kaleidoscope Film Distribution,
LS Films and Velvet Joy Productions
Rating: 15+ / Run Time: 90 minutes
Language: English
Director: Paul Sng
Writer: Paul Sng
Starring: Irvine Welsh, Liam Neeson, Stephen Graham, Ruth Negga,
Maxine Peake and Nick Cave
“You’re never really satisfied with anything you do, and it’s good that you’re not satisfied ‘cuz when you’re not satisfied, it means you’re still learning and when you stop learning you’re dying.”
These words, spoken by prolific writer Irvine Welsh, come early in Reality is Not Enough, and they set the tone for a raw and honest look at a man still evolving. The film opens with the famous “Choose Life” speech from his 1993 debut novel Trainspotting, before Welsh explains the film’s title: reality, on its own, is never enough for writers of fiction. Writing is about venturing into the unexplored.
What director Sng delivers is not a conventional documentary with endless talking heads or narration, but instead an intimate portrait told in Welsh’s own voice. Some of the most striking moments see him standing before a tiled wall of projected memories—home videos of his childhood, glimpses of his marriage, and scenes from the many films adapted from his work. A clock is often visible during these sequences, underlining Welsh’s reminder that “the most important resource you have is time.” Watching how he has used that resource—and sometimes misused it—adds another compelling layer to his story.
Sng follows Welsh in everyday and extraordinary moments alike: playing soccer with childhood friends, visiting museums, attending book events with his wife, and, most provocatively, undergoing supervised DMT therapy sessions. These passages show not only where he’s been but how he continues to search for meaning.
The film is also punctuated with dramatic readings from Welsh’s novels, performed by the likes of Liam Neeson, Ruth Negga, and Stephen Graham. Excerpts from Trainspotting, Filth, The Acid House, Skagboys, and Marabou Stork Nightmares illuminate the experiences and states of mind that fueled his writing—from his early days of excess to his later pursuit of discipline through physical challenges like boxing. Together, these elements map a journey that stretches around the globe.
Crucially, Sng does not shy away from the darker or more controversial aspects of Welsh’s reputation. The film acknowledges the critiques—such as accusations of romanticizing heroin—while also emphasizing his unapologetic insistence that everyone must live with the consequences of their choices, a theme reinforced through clips from T2: Trainspotting. At the same time, quieter moments, like a candid exchange with his manager Trevor Engelson, show how Welsh approaches the practical realities of collaboration and creativity.
By rejecting the typical trappings of the documentary form, Sng sustains attention through simple but revealing interactions. Whether Welsh is talking with collaborators, revisiting formative memories, or reflecting on his philosophies, the film never loses momentum.
All in all, Sng crafts a love letter to Irvine Welsh—writer, DJ, provocateur, and seeker—capturing both the man who challenged us with Trainspotting and the artist who refuses to stop learning or evolving.
For an exclusive discussion with Irvine Welsh and Writer, Director and Producer Paul Sng, click HERE.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Sorry, Baby
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: Three Chapeau Productions
Rating: R / Run Time: 103 minutes
Language: English
Director: Eva Victor
Writer: Eva Victor
Starring: Eva Victor, Naomi Ackie, Louis Cancelmi, Kelly McCormack,
Lucas Hedges, John Carroll Lynch, E.R. Fightmaster, Cody Reiss
and Jordan Mendoza
"But sometimes bad stuff just happens. That's why I feel bad for you."
Agnes (Victor) is at a pivotal point in her life. Fresh out of grad school, she’s become the youngest full-time professor at her university—a milestone for the reserved, introverted academic. She’s overjoyed when her former roommate and best friend, Lydie (Ackie), comes to visit. Now expecting her first child with partner Fran (Fightmaster), Lydie brings quiet concerns about Agnes’ increasingly isolated behavior. Agnes insists she’s fine, but a dinner with their old grad school classmates—Logan (Mendoza), Devin (Reiss), and Natasha (McCormack)—stirs long-simmering tensions. Natasha clearly resents that Agnes was promoted over her, despite Logan’s reminder that their thesis advisor, Professor Decker (Cancelmi), simply liked Agnes’ work best. After dinner, Lydie returns to Fran, but not before urging Agnes to re-engage with the world. Something is haunting her, something she’s been avoiding.
From here, the story moves back in time, weaving a nonlinear account of the events leading up to that dinner. We see how Decker’s favoritism toward Agnes bred resentment, particularly from Natasha. Then comes the visit to Decker’s home to discuss her thesis—a moment referred to only as “The Year with the Bad Thing.” Victor doesn’t depict the incident explicitly, instead using evocative, unsettling cinematography to convey its weight. In the aftermath, Agnes wrestles with what to do next, caught between action and paralysis.
In the midst of processing, she strikes up a tentative connection with her unassuming neighbor Gavin (Hedges), a relationship that offers brief moments of reprieve. Over three years, Victor avoids the predictable revenge arc, focusing instead on the raw, unvarnished reality of living with trauma—the denial, humor, anger, and quiet acceptance that can follow. Their script walks a fine tonal line, using deadpan humor to offset heavy truths, sidestepping tropes and letting the messiness of healing take center stage.
Victor pulls triple duty as writer, director, and star. Their understated performance pairs perfectly with Ackie’s warm, loyal energy as Agnes’ steadfast friend, while McCormack delivers acidic humor that will likely earn the most laughs—even if her character is one you love to hate. Hedges is somewhat underused, but his presence gives Agnes a human anchor as she starts to move forward.
Mia Cioffi Henry’s cinematography captures the muted beauty of a secluded New England town, a visual mirror for Agnes’ isolation, while Lia Ouyang Rusli’s score underscores her emotional state, sometimes leaving us as unsettled as she feels.
All in all, Sorry, Baby is a slow-burn dramedy that faces difficult truths with honesty, restraint, and flashes of humor, marking Victor as a bold new voice unafraid to blur the line between comedy and pain.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Two Neighbors
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: Silkscreen and Portal Pictures
Rating: 18+ / Run Time: 104 minutes
Language: English
Director: Ondine Viñao
Writer: Ondine Viñao and Jordan Johnson
Starring: Anya Chalotra, Chloe Cherry, William Hope, Samuel Anderson,
Jake Simmonce, Ivy Freeman-Attwood, Taz Skylar, Joseph Millson,
Zoe Telford, and Ralph Ineson
“The only thing left to do in this world is revolt. But that requires figuring out exactly who to hate, and then doing something about it.”
The Petersen family’s world is introduced with the words, “Once there were two neighbors, one envious, the other full of greed, who in their solitude were met by a spirit, promising to grant their hearts’ desires.” From there, we’re swept into their stylish, seductive lives—a family under investigation, yet still throwing an opulent party to launch their new program, Grant My Wish. Patriarch Mr. Petersen (Hope), his wife Sylvia (Telford), and their children—Stacy (Cherry), a driven entrepreneur, and Sebastian (Simmance), a workout obsessive with a skewed worldview—welcome a who’s who of guests into their lavish home. Among them are Mark (Millson), a relatively new employee in the Petersen family business, and his daughter Becky (Chalotra), an aspiring writer.
Mark, new to this world, sees networking with the Petersen children as Becky’s ticket to a bright future. Arriving at the home—which looks as if it’s been cherry-picked from the decadent excess of 2023’s Saltburn—Becky meets Stacy and Sebastian, along with Hal (Anderson), a silver-tongued charmer, and Chad (Skylar), a well-known podcaster. Meanwhile, Mark strikes up a conversation with Sylvia and is drawn into a private event with Mr. Petersen’s friends.
Early in the evening, the guests witness a magic trick performed by a Genie (Ineson), involving Stacy and Becky. The Genie is there to support Mr. Petersen’s new program—but also, as we soon discover, to play a deeper role. This trick sets in motion a night that transforms from a glittering dinner party into an escalating spiral of indulgence and debauchery. As the hours pass, nothing is as it seems, and the consequences for all involved become increasingly life-altering. Even when the night appears to be over, Becky and Stacy’s paths remain fatefully intertwined.
In her feature debut as a director, Viñao demonstrates a distinctive visual and narrative style, while she and co-writer Jordan Johnson craft a slick, stylish story probing the underbelly of the privileged elite and the outsiders striving to belong. While the theme isn’t new, what sets their screenplay apart is its connection to an Aesop fable—reimagined so that both central figures embody greed and envy in equal measure, creating a fresh tension. Chalotra and Cherry are perfectly matched; when they meet again after the night’s events, the emotional divide between them keeps the audience guessing where Viñao and Johnson will lead. The film’s chapter-book structure, with titles like “A Fresh Start for Us,” “The Problem with Women,” and “Entirely Predictable But Still Heartbroken,” offers sly hints about what’s to come without giving too much away.
Visually, the production is a feast. Lili Lea Abraham’s lush set design, Bea Buckley’s detailed decoration, and Paige Reifler’s playful costumes create a world that’s both decadent and dangerous. As the atmosphere shifts from refined dinner to full-on rave, David Wright’s cinematography navigates sleek transitions in framing and tone, keeping the viewer hooked.
All in all, this visually delightful film presents a unique twist on the morality tale of greed and envy, anchored by strong, engaging performances.
For an exclusive discussion with Co-Writer and Director Ondine Viñao and Producer and Performer Ivy Freeman-Attwood, click HERE.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Walk With Me
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: Three Chapeau Productions
Rating: NR / Run Time: 90 minutes
Language: English
Director: Heidi Levitt
Writer: Heidi Levitt
|Starring: Charlie Hess, Heidi Levitt, Eloise Hess, Tobias Hess, Art Levitt,
Marion Levitt, Stephen Hess and Rusto the Wonder Dog
“I have lost myself. But who am I? Who am I underneath?”
A striking statistic opens Heidi Levitt’s deeply personal documentary Walk With Me: caregivers of Alzheimer’s patients die at a rate 63% higher than their peers, often before the patients themselves, according to Dr. Pauline Boss, Professor Emeritus at the University of Minnesota. She emphasizes the need for caregivers to find balance amid uncertainty—a theme that threads through Levitt’s candid film.
Best known as a casting director on films like The Joy Luck Club, JFK, Nixon, and The Artist, Levitt turns the camera on her own life after her husband Charlie is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s at age 57, part of the rare 5% who develop the disease so young. Approaching the diagnosis with the same determination she brought to casting, Levitt scoured the world for potential treatments, hopeful that early detection might make a difference. The harsh reality soon sets in: a cure remains elusive.
“This is the disease that people don’t see,” Levitt admits. Through intimate footage of doctor appointments, therapy sessions, and social events, we witness the complexities of daily life with Charlie. Levitt and her children share honest reflections on the strain of navigating years of unexplained symptoms before diagnosis. In a revealing family parallel, Levitt interviews her parents, uncovering a history of cognitive decline that forced her father into a caregiver role.
What distinguishes Walk With Me is its focus on the present moment. Unlike many documentaries that dwell on the end stages of Alzheimer’s, Levitt shows what it’s like to live alongside the disease, portraying both tender and challenging moments. Charlie isn’t always patient or kind, and Levitt doesn’t cast herself as a martyr. Instead, she presents a nuanced portrait of caregiving—the difficult balance of caring for a spouse without slipping into a parental role, a line she continually negotiates.
Blending talking-head interviews with unobtrusive, fly-on-the-wall footage, Levitt paints a textured picture of a family redefining itself amid uncertainty.
All in all, Walk With Me is an honest, unflinching look at one family’s journey through Alzheimer’s, showing how art and resilience can become a vital form of therapy.
Review by Cinephile Mike
Zodiac Killer Project
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Film Production Companies: Loop and Field of Vision
Rating: 18+ / Run Time: 92 minutes
Language: English
Director: Charlie Shackleton
Starring: Charlie Shackleton, Guy Robbins and Lee Nicholas Harris
“There’s sort of a limit to what I can say.”
Non-fiction filmmaker Charlie Shackleton set out to adapt The Zodiac Killer Cover-Up: The Silenced Badge, a book by former California Highway Patrol officer Lyndon E. Lafferty. He entered pre-production, invested in the project, and began shaping his vision—only for Lafferty’s family to withdraw the rights. The reasons remain unclear, though with true crime more popular than ever, perhaps the family had other plans. In response, Shackleton delivers a meta-documentary about the film that might have been.
Working with cinematographer Xenia Patricia, Shackleton travels across California, filming both the historic sites tied to Lafferty and the Zodiac case, as well as locations that lived only in his imagination during planning. As he recounts Lafferty’s story—carefully skirting copyright infringement—he blends establishing shots with unexpected extras. Along the way, he dissects society’s obsession with true crime, using montages from such genre selections: Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky’s Paradise Lost trilogy, Andrew Jarecki’s The Jinx, Berlinger’s Conversations with a Killer series, and Clement Virgo’s Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story. This dual approach turns the project into both a personal film and a study of true-crime storytelling.
The narration is entirely Shackleton’s, sometimes delivered in a recording booth where we see him interacting with his sound engineer. His frustration over the halted project is palpable, yet—true to form—he finds inventive ways to link found footage, location shots, and archival material into a cohesive narrative. Extended, static takes—a six-minute shot of a street corner, for instance—become surprisingly engaging thanks to his commentary. At other times, he punctuates the stillness with stock footage that reanimates Lafferty’s investigation, including a gripping segment about a lead tied to an AA meeting that plays like suspense cinema.
Jeremy Warmsley’s score adds another layer, heightening tension at key moments and contrasting it with lighter, in-studio outtakes. Shackleton, also serving as editor, keeps the pacing deliberate yet dynamic, allowing his personality and genre-savvy analysis to shine through. While the film may leave you longing for the Zodiac documentary Shackleton couldn’t make, it offers something equally intriguing: a self-aware exploration of true crime, storytelling, and creative resilience. One can only hope he gets the chance to bring his original vision to life someday.
All in all, fans of true-crime will find plenty of fodder to dissect as a result of this movie about the movie that was never made.
For an exclusive discussion with Director, Producer, Editor and Narrator Charlie Shackleton, click HERE.
Review by Cinephile Mike
