Peyton Robinson

An intimate, moving documentary that takes us through the legendary life of Marlee Matlin, uncovering a legacy of advocacy, activism, and trial by fire.

craze was the flimsy dictation of its seriousness. At times, it felt like it was really trying to be a sincere horror film (even if it wasn't successful), and at others, it felt like it was in on its own jokes. Now, director Gerard Johnstone is back, and “M3GAN 2.0” consists of the already established jest of its predecessor, but now emboldened by the backing of internet virality. It's an easy thing to cater to, and that it does, with a dance number and melodramatic break into song coming around for round two to elicit laughs. And to be fair, it mostly works. M3GAN 2.0 is funny, even if cheaply, and it's also deeply, transparently unserious this time.

“Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight” is inherently bound by its white perspective, but at the same time, it would simply be a different story if not through Bobo's eyes. Ultimately, it seems content in telling the story it desires. It's a coming-of-age film that's more about Bobo's understanding of race than her own. It is difficult to witness the operations of a racist family's clutch on their stolen land, and the film, in part, pardons itself on the basis of Bobo's primary perspective. Though in the end, as Bobo imagines Sarah through her mind's eye, “Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight” still seems aware, with a hint of biting realism, that a prototypical perspective is maintained; Bobo still has a lot to learn.

When it comes to the Palestinian genocide, it is simple for our brain's processes to be overwhelmed in viewing the constantly rising numbers of casualties and expansive horizons of destruction. But it is a privilege to be a witness and not a victim. It is a privilege to be overwhelmed by numbers and images rather than barrages of bombs and the loss of loved ones. It is a privilege to view these tragedies as generalized amongst a population, rather than an amalgam of unique lives. Iranian filmmaker Sepideh Farsi's “Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk” is not simply a documentary, but a poignant individual's record. It is a reminder that every number we see on the news is a complex web of individuality. It's historical sonder on screen.

The film grants hope for the women of Iran through its thick-skinned subject, putting her resume and grit on display. But with sharper editing and a bit more eagerness for the personal, “Cutting Through Rocks” would supersede general hopefulness for a more intricate touch to the heart.

And the film understands that to label violent offenders with the familiar epithets, such as evil or monster, is to distance them from personhood, and therefore, undermine symptomatic aspects of the human and sociocultural experience. The film does not posit excuses for violence, and neither should we, but instead it prompts reflections on where compassion and control are needed, and where the pursuit of them falters.

as the star. “The Testament of Ann Lee” is a large-scale production, mighty in detail, and Fastvold proves herself up to the challenge of her own aspirations, tackling the weighty biography with the same sort of labor-intensive dedication characteristic of its subject.

Maintaining a close point of view, while essential to the film, is sometimes its greatest heel. In its closing shot, immense empathy and exhaustion are felt, powerfully concluding Floria's Sisyphean feat (yet with the knowledge that another shift awaits tomorrow). “Late Shift” never loses grasp of its compassion for its lead, but does neglect coloring in the context. Left wanting more, Volpe's film touches the heart but doesn't satisfy the appetite for a more comprehensive picture.

96 minutes ‧ R ‧ Less than an hour ago Nora Kirkpatrick 's “Couples Weekend” isn't a matter of lives ending, like the horror classics