War Machine (Patrick Hughes, 2026)

Alan Ritchson in War Machine

Cast: Alan Ritchson, Stefan James, Blake Richardson, Dennis Quaid, Esai Morales, Jai Courtney, Alex King, Keiynan Lonsdale, Jack Patton, James Beaufort, Joshua Diaz, Jacob Hohua, Daniel Webber. Screenplay: Patrick Hughes, James Beaufort. Cinematography: Aaron Morton. Production design: Enzo Iacono. Film editing: Andy Canny. Music: Dmitri Golovko. 

I think I would have enjoyed War Machine more if it didn't feel like the kind of movie Pete Hegseth would love. At the beginning it's a straightforward celebration of military machismo, but then it turns into an invasion from outer space sci-fi movie while still retaining its conviction that the warrior ethos of muscle and grit is what will save us. Granted, it does give a nod to intelligence, as the hero manages to conquer the alien war machine with his knowledge of applied physics. The movie doesn't give Alan Ritchson much of an opportunity to play anything but Reacher gone Ranger, but he demonstrates the kind of presence that should ensure his continuance in action flicks, including the franchise that War Machine seems likely to produce.    

Every Man for Himself (Jean-Luc Godard, 1980)

Jacques Dutronc in Every Man for Himself

Cast: Isabelle Huppert, Jacques Dutronc, Nathalie Baye, Cécile Tanner, Paule Muret, Anna Baldaccini, Roland Amstutz. Screenplay: Anne-Marie Miéville, Jean-Claude Carrière. Cinematography: Renato Berta, William Lubtchansky, Jean-Bernard Menou. Art direction: Romain Goupil. Film editing: Jean-Luc Godard, Anne-Marie Miéville. Music: Gabriel Yared. 

Jean-Luc Godard's Every Man for Himself is about transactional lives: Everyone in the film is trying to get something from someone else. Naturally, the key figure is a prostitute, Isabelle (Isabelle Huppert), who eventually gets involved in the lives of a couple dissolving their relationship: the filmmaker Paul Godard (Jacques Dutronc) and his girlfriend, Denise (Nathalie Baye). It's a droll, talky, and sometimes bitterly funny film with a melancholy undertone reinforced by several reprises of the aria "Suicidio" from Ponchielli's opera La Gioconda. For the real-life Godard it represented a return to more or less conventional filmmaking after the late '60s and '70s immersion in politics and experimentation, and it shows his mastery of creating vivid characters with problems of their own self-centered making. 

The Million Dollar Hotel (Wim Wenders, 2000)

Jeremy Davies in The Million Dollar Hotel

Cast: Jeremy Davies, Milla Jovovich, Mel Gibson, Jimmy Smits, Peter Stormare, Amanda Plummer, Gloria Stuart, Tom Bower, Donal Logue, Bud Cort, Julian Sands, Harris Yulin, Charlayne Woodard, Tim Roth. Screenplay: Nicholas Klein, Bono. Cinematography: Phaedon Papamichael. Production design: Robbie Freed, Arabella Serrell. Film editing: Tatiana S. Riegel. Music: Brian Eno, Jon Hassell, Daniel Lanois.

The idea for Wim Wenders's The Million Dollar Hotel was conceived by Bono while he was filming the video for "Where the Streets Have No Name" in downtown Los Angeles near the Cecil Hotel, a run-down residence hotel. At its Australian premiere, the film's star, Mel Gibson, in one of those unfiltered remarks that wrecked his career, told an interviewer that the movie was "as boring as a dog's ass." He later backtracked, saying that he didn't really mean what he said, but it stuck. Wenders's film isn't boring, but it's not a highlight of the career of the director who gave us Wings of Desire (1987) and Paris, Texas (1984). It's a muddled blend of satire, whodunit, and tragic romance with tinges of magic realism, based on the weary premise that outcasts and the mentally challenged possess a higher wisdom. Gibson plays Skinner, an FBI agent investigating the death of a resident of the titular Los Angeles hotel: Did the artist Izzy Goldkiss (Tim Roth in a cameo) fall from the hotel roof, or was he pushed? Skinner is there at the behest of Izzy's wealthy father (Harris Yulin). He finds that the residents of the hotel are mostly deinstitutionalized mental patients, and they're no help in solving the case. Skinner is not a model of normality himself: He wears a neck brace and it's later revealed that he once had a third arm growing from his back: "I could play the violin and wipe my ass all at the same time." In his investigation, he centers on Geronimo (Jimmy Smits), an artist like Izzy, and employs Tom Tom (Jeremy Davies), one of the residents who is infatuated with another, the pretty Eloise (Milla Jovovich). The performances are mostly good, although Davies plays Tom Tom as a little more manic than he needs to. But in the end it's a movie mostly for U2 fans and Wenders completists. 

I’m Not There (Todd Haynes, 2007)

Marcus Carl Franklin, Cate Blanchett, Christian Bale, Ben Whishaw, Heath Ledger, and Richard Gere in I’m Not There 

 Cast: Christian Bale, Cate Blanchett, Marcus Carl Franklin, Ben Whishaw, Heath Ledger, Richard Gere, Kris Kristofferson (voice), Charlotte Gainsbourg, Bruce Greenwood, Julianne Moore, Michelle Williams. Screenplay: Todd Haynes, Oren Moverman. Cinematography: Edward Lachman. Production design: Judy Becker. Film editing: Jay Rabinowitz. Music: Bob Dylan. 

I'm Not There is a kind of giveaway title: Bob Dylan isn't there on the screen either. Confronted with the most enigmatic music figure of the 20th century, Todd Haynes resorts to a deconstructed biopic. Bob Dylan's personae are so varied that he evokes the young man addressed in Shakespeare's Sonnet 53: "What is your substance, whereof are you made./That millions of strange shadows on you tend?" Haynes doesn't find a million Dylans, but he sticks to half a dozen, played by as many different performers, including a young Black actor (Marcus Carl Franklin) and a woman (Cate Blanchett, who earned an Oscar nomination for the role). Each of them represents a different stage in Dylan's life and career, but you really have to be steeped in knowledge of his biography already to fully appreciate the skill with which Haynes makes it all work. Or you can simply sit back and enjoy the audacity and originality of the film.

"Wuthering Heights" (Emerald Fennell, 2026)

Jacob Elordi and Margot Robbie in "Wuthering Heights"

Cast: Margot Robbie, Jacob Elordi, Hong Chau, Shazad Latif, Alison Oliver, Martin Clunes, Ewan Mitchell, Amy Morgan, Jessica Knappett, Charlotte Mellington, Owen Cooper, Vy Nguyen. Screenplay: Emerald Fennell, based on a novel by Emily Brontë. Cinematography: Linus Sandgren. Production design: Suzie Davies. Film editing: Victoria Boydell. Music: Anthony Willis. 

I am not a teenage girl, which means that my particular sensibility may hinder me from fully appreciating what Emerald Fennell has done with Emily Brontë's great mad novel, Wuthering Heights. Fennell said that she approached making a film of the novel as if it were being imagined by a teenage girl who had just read the book. She also did something of which I wholeheartedly approve: She put the title in quotation marks because movies and literature are distinctly different media -- no film, however closely it sticks to the source, is the equivalent of a written work. And on those terms, I have to applaud Fennell's movie: It does what it sets out to do. Sometimes at the expense of taste, to be sure: Any movie that starts with an ejaculating corpse is going to have to justify itself, and "Wuthering Heights" never quite recovers from that scene. The scene in which Heathcliff (Jacob Elordi) finds Cathy (Margot Robbie) masturbating on the moors, her flesh-colored room at Thrushcross Granger, and her strapless mourning dress continue to push the boundaries of audacity. But the movie benefits from Fennell's decision to go all the way and from its cast's willingness to follow her. This is, in short, one of those movies that are better appreciated if you haven't read the book on which it's based: Brontë's novel is not a paperback bodice-ripper (the covers of which Fennell copies to the point of parody). The film is a sometimes campy but occasionally tedious exercise in excess. 

Not Fade Away (David Chase, 2012)

Bella Heathcote and John Magaro in Not Fade Away

Cast: John Magaro, Jack Huston, Will Brill, Bella Heathcote, James Gandolfini, Brad Garrett, Christopher McDonald, Isiah Whitlock Jr., Dominique McElligott, Molly Price, Meg Guzulescu, Gerard Canonico. Screenplay: David Chase. Cinematography: Eigil Bryld. Production design: Ford Wheeler. Film editing: Sidney Wolinsky. 

David Chase created The Sopranos, one of the greatest dramatic TV series of all time, rich in character and incident, with a superb evocation of a particular milieu. But what makes a series work doesn't necessarily make for a successful movie. Not Fade Away gives us a portrait of a corner of suburban New Jersey in the 1960s, with a youth culture at odds with the older generation and the Vietnam War seething in the background. The central story is that of Doug Damiano (John Magaro), who begins the film as a high school kid intoxicated with rock 'n' roll, especially after the emergence of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. He and his friends Gene (Jack Huston) and Wells (Will Brill) start a band, and he gets a girlfriend, Grace (Bella Heathcote). Doug is at odds with his father, Pat (James Gandolfini) over his hair and his music, especially after Doug drops out of college to try to make it in the record business. It might have made a good TV series, but Chase fails to give it shape and coherence as a film, tossing in scenes that don't work with the main story, such as a needlessly included encounter of the young Mick Jagger and Keith Richards on a train at the start of the film. He occasionally inserts a narrative voiceover by a secondary character whose identity isn't revealed until the very end, and then to no great point. There are some good performances by Magaro, Huston, and Gandolfini, but the movie's lack of focus and narrative drive undermines them.

The Revolt of Mamie Stover (Raoul Walsh, 1956)

Jane Russell in The Revolt of Mamie Stover (Raoul Walsh, 1956)

Cast: Jane Russell, Richard Egan, Joan Leslie, Agnes Moorehead, Jorja Curtright, Michael Pate, Richard Coogan, Alan Reed. Screenplay: Sydney Boehm, based on a novel by William Bradford Huie.  Cinematography: Leo Tover. Art direction: Mark-Lee Kirk, Lyle R. Wheeler. Film editing: Louis R. Loeffler.  Music: Hugo Friedhofer. 

Loosely based on a novel that was loosely based on the memoirs of the sex worker Jean O'Hara, Raoul Walsh's The Revolt of Mamie Stover is one of those dodges around the Production Code that kept cropping up in the 1950s. Set mostly in Honolulu before and after the Pearl Harbor attack, it's the story of a woman who parlayed her earnings as a "dance-hall hostess" into a fortune by buying up real estate when people fled the island at the start of the war and leasing it to the military. Jane Russell got the role of Mamie Stover -- which was one of O'Hara's actual pseudonyms after Marilyn Monroe, originally cast in the part, rebelled against her 20th Century Fox contract, and Rita Hayworth, Susan Hayward, and Lana Turner were considered. It's a perfect fit for Russell. The movie is nothing special, but it's directed efficiently by Walsh, and has solid action scenes during the Pearl Harbor bombing, and colorful views of Hawaiian scenery. 

Yeast (Mary Bronstein, 2008)

Mary Bronstein in Yeast

Cast: Mary Bronstein, Greta Gerwig, Amy Judd, Josh Safdie, Benny Safdie, Sean Price Williams, Ignacio Carballo, David Sandholm. Screenplay: Mary Bronstein. Cinematography: Michael Tully, Sean Price Williams. Film editing: Ronald Bronstein. 

Rachel (Mary Bronstein) is wound a little too tight, but her friends Alice (Amy Judd) and Gen (Greta Gerwig) are barely wound up at all: They are the very definition of "slackers." And that's the relationship that plays out through Bronstein's itchy movie Yeast. The more Rachel tries to get Alice and Gen to straighten up their lives, the more passively aggressive they become. Yeast runs for a mercifully brief 78 minutes --  I say "mercifully" because I don't know how much longer I could take having my nose rubbed, via hand-held camerawork and extreme closeups, in the lives of these dysfunctional young women. Which is not to say that Bronstein didn't succeed, maybe just short of brilliantly, at giving a portrait of millennials uncertain where they fit in the scheme of things they were thrust into. It's easy to dismiss Yeast as just another "mumblecore" movie, proudly low-budget, improvised, and unstructured, and the presence of Gerwig and the Safdie brothers (in a loopy cameo) reinforces that. But there's a real poignancy at the film's end, when Rachel, irritating as she can be, finds herself alone.     

Mr. Freedom (William Klein, 1969)

John Abbey in Mr. Freedom

Cast: John Abbey, Delphine Seyrig, Donald Pleasence, Jean-Claude Drouot, Serge Gainsbourg, Yves Lefebvre, Sabine Sun, Rita Maiden, Colin Drake, Pierre Baillot, Raoul Billerey, Philippe Noiret, Sami Frey, Catherine Rouvel, Yves Montand, Simone Signoret. Screenplay: William Klein. Cinematography: Pierre Lhomme. Production design: William Klein. Film editing: Anne-Marie Cotret, Valérie Mayoux, Monique Teisseire. Music: Serge Gainsbourg. 

William Klein's sledgehammer satire Mr. Freedom was made at a time when revolutionary posturing was all the rage in France and things seemed to be coming apart in the United States. It stars John Abbey, an expatriate in France like his director, as a cop turned superpatriotic superhero. Donning the guise of Mr. Freedom, which involves a lot of padded musculature and a costume made out of sports gear, he descends on France to save it from the commies and ends up nuking much of it. For a contemporary equivalent to the character, think of Homelander from The Boys. The movie is a gleefully unsubtle mess, filled with cameos by French actors and a larger role by Delphine Seyrig as Marie-Madeleine, a French collaborator with Mr. Freedom. (Or is she?) The movie's lampoon of American political and cultural imperialism (the American embassy is a shopping mall) is almost too broad to cause offense. It's about half an hour too long, like an SNL skit run amok, but there are laughs to be had.   

Lingua Franca (Isabel Sandoval, 2019)

Isabel Sandoval and Eamon Farren in Lingua Franca

Cast: Isabel Sandoval, Eamon Farren, Lynn Cohen, Ivory Aquino, Megan Channel, Lev Gorn. Screenplay: Isabel Sandoval. Cinematography: Isaac Banks. Production design: Maxwell Nalevansky, Clint Ramos. Film editing: Isabel Sandoval. Music: Teresa Barrozo. 

The problems facing the protagonist of Isabel Sandoval's Lingua Franca are even more urgent today than they were when the film was made. Sandoval herself plays Olivia, a transgender Filipina who works as a live-in caregiver for Olga (Lynn Cohen), an elderly woman on the verge of dementia. An undocumented immigrant, Olivia sends some of what she earns to her mother in the Philippines and pays much of the rest of it to a man who promises to marry her, which would allow her to get a green card. But when he announces that he's met someone he really wants to marry, she's left on her own, just as ICE is stepping up a crackdown in the Brighton Beach area where she lives. Then Olga's grandson Alex (Eamon Farren),  who has just been released from prison, moves in with his grandmother. After initial wariness, Alex and Olivia develop a relationship. As writer and director, Sandoval handles the nuances of the situation well, giving us enough of Alex's own difficulties to understand why he may not be the ideal solution to Olivia's problems. As actress, she is also up to the task of portraying Olivia's mixture of hope and fear as a resolution to those problems presents itself. Except for a few scenes where the revelation of Olivia's sexual identity and the threat of deportation feel contrived, Sandoval mostly resists conventional plotting, and the bittersweet conclusion of the film is deftly achieved. Lingua Franca is one of those movies that need to be better known.