Reptile lets all the drama happen off screen with a third act deus ex machina. What could have been a knotty, suburban, coastal noir boils down to a detective story we’ve all seen before.

The Royal Hotel is a horror movie, but not in a supernatural or otherworldly way. Maybe that’s what makes it so creepy. The tension, fear, and confusion of Hanna burrow under the audience’s skin because this experience is not too far-fetched to believe.

War Pony is a vivid portrait of loss, hope for the ever-elusive future, and the ways communities come together and fall apart.

Chuck Chuck Baby has no time for those who don’t have a funny bone in their bodies. Life’s too short to not fall in love amid a snowfall of chicken feathers.

Máhccan is an ode to a place and a people made by someone who intimately feels their pain. Not just the ones living today, but those who lived long ago. Those whose hands beat these drums, sewed these clothes, and built the legacy Máhccan continues to grow upon.

You may find things you agree with, things that are at odds with your way of life, or inspiration in Perfect Days. It’s a reminder of the too-easy-to-forget, age-old adage: stop and smell the roses every once and a while.

The Zone of Interest begs for attention, no matter how difficult it is to watch.

Above any critique of Orlando, My Political Biography is a sense of awe for its existence—for the joy, anger, love, and pain it stands for.

Summer Qamp ends with a chant. One that seems to happen organically. Over and over, the campers and the counselors are shouting “queer joy.”