Films

Inspired by Shakespeare’s historical plays, “The King” rejects the luster of conventional epics to craft a somber portrait of power, youth, and identity. With David Michôd’s precise direction and a restrained, unsettling performance by Timothée Chalamet, the film turns silence into tension and transforms doubt into narrative drive. It’s Shakespeare rendered in flesh, mud, and hesitation — and a meditation on the solitude of ruling before understanding oneself.

Forty years after revolutionizing the cop genre with sharp humor and raw action, Axel Foley returns without cheap nostalgia. Eddie Murphy plays an aging but still disarming detective, now entangled in paternal dilemmas, institutional corruption, and unlikely alliances. Netflix revives the icon without smoothing his edges, reaffirming discomfort as his sharpest weapon and restoring irreverence as a legitimate narrative force.

By revisiting a neglected chapter of World War II, “The Six Triple Eight” highlights the courage and resilience of a battalion composed exclusively of Black women. Directed by Tyler Perry and led by Kerry Washington, the film invests in the power of collectivity, discipline, and memory to shed light on a legacy silenced for decades in American history, revealing the invisible impact of those who held the front line from afar.

Amid the inner collapse of two lives scarred by disillusionment, a writing retreat in Morocco becomes the unlikely stage for a connection that defies labels and conventions. “Lonely Hearts” explores, with intelligence and subtlety, the contradictions of affection in an age of emotional exhaustion, confronting love not as salvation, but as a possibility amid ruins — a quiet act of courage in a world increasingly resistant to intimacy.

In an effort to expand its universe of antagonists, Sony turns to one of the wildest and most enigmatic characters in comic book lore with a film that blends graphic violence, family trauma, and brutal settings. “Kraven the Hunter” attempts to turn an instinct-driven villain into a lead figure, relying on physical strength and restrained fury as dramatic engines. However, amid uneven effects, excessive brutality, and a persistent emotional void.

With a colossal budget and Ryan Gosling at the center of the chaos, “The Gray Man” marks Netflix’s ambition not just to compete, but to shape the future of blockbusters. Under the direction of the Russo brothers, the film blends visual spectacle with morally ambiguous characters, turning a spy mission into fertile ground for an intimate war disguised as global action — where choreographed brutality masks dilemmas far deeper than a quick trigger.

When a shark appears in the waters of the Seine, the city of Paris ceases to be a postcard-perfect setting and becomes the stage for a submerged nightmare. Blending deliberate absurdity with echoes of environmental critique, “Under Paris” plunges into an unlikely chaos, where the grotesque and the symbolic intertwine beneath the surface of a river that hides more than it reveals — a murky mirror of collective fears and persistent omissions.

Nothing in Mariana Chenillo’s narrative resorts to heroism or easy catharsis. Instead, the director opts for a raw and visceral portrait of life in a state of suspension, where love and pain blur with every attempt to begin again. “Lucca’s World” navigates the fractures of a marriage shaken by tragedy, turning everyday life into a silent battleground, where simply enduring becomes, in itself, a way of loving.

More than revisiting a natural disaster, the film questions how a community endures a real-life apocalypse that collided with its beliefs. The director investigates the invisible traces left by an EF5 tornado in a town accustomed to praying for deliverance, yet unprepared to face devastation as either a response — or a reflection — of its own contradictions. Amid physical ruins and inner turmoil, the disaster reveals what is most fragile in the human condition.

Aboard a past that never existed, a young girl crosses corroded landscapes alongside a silent robot, sifting through the wreckage of a fictional era in search of her missing brother. “The Electric State” reimagines the 1990s as an alternate future already born in decay, blending digital emotions, post-industrial loneliness, and the toxic legacy of major corporations. This isn’t merely science fiction — it’s a visual elegy for what we choose to remember.