The Secret Agent (2025)

The disappearance of people believed to be dissidents in Argentina in the late 1970's and early 1980's was well known to those of us who live in North America, albeit after the facts. There are still people protesting that part of their history in Buenos Aires to this day. The fact that is happened in Brazil as well was not known to me. The film I'm Still Here details the mostly true story of a high profile Brazilian who was killed by the government and his wife went to great lengths to prove that. This one is a little different. Set in 1977 Brazil, roughly at the midpoint of a 21-year military dictatorship, this is a drama, a satire, an intriguingly laid-back espionage film, and a recreation of a time and place, with expressionistic and surreal flourishes that must be accepted on their own terms. Wagner Moura stars as Marcelo, a tall, bearded fellow with gentle energy and sad eyes. He arrives in Recife, the state capital of Pernambuco, Brazil, in a bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle. We don’t know why he’s come to Recife. We won’t know for a long time. You have to pick up on subtext in order to understand certain conversations. Marcelo and the other characters in his orbit try to avoid saying exactly what they mean, because someone might be listening. There is a casualness to the killing that I think is probably a true capture of what happened, and is what we are experiencing in 2026 in the United States with ICE, where people are being dissapeared without warrents, cause, trial, or due process. It can happen antwhere and at any time.

No Other Choice (2025)

This Korean film was short listed for the 2026 Academy Awards in the Foreign Language category, and in my mind the Koreans can give the Danes a run for their money when it comes to dark dark comedy. It does not get bleaker than this. It opens in happier times for Man-su and his family, including a supportive wife, Lee Mi-ri, two beautiful children, Si-one and Ri-one, and two gorgeous dogs. As they celebrate their perfect lives outside of their perfect home, storm clouds appear on the horizon. The symbol becomes real when Man-su is downsized from his paper company, forced back into a brutal job market. Man-su realizes that the only way to beat the competition for the job he wants is for them to be unable to apply for it, so he puts in motion a series of plans to literally eliminate his competition. What starts as relatively playful and almost silly, a tone enriched by Lee’s layered performance that mingles Man-su’s desperation, intelligence, and broken pride, eventually gets much darker, but also angry, a commentary on what happens when fragile masculinity is fractured by corporate greed. Something has to give. And it does. This did not make the final cut to be nominated, but it is well worth seeking out.

Kokuho (2025)

This film is nominated in the category of Make Up for the 2026 Academy Awards, and it was short listed for Best International Movie. It is set in and around the world of Kabuki, the 400-year-old theatrical form that lies near the heart of Japanese culture. Spanning half a century and running close to three hours, this quiet epic is the top-grossing Japanese live action film of all time. When we first meet the hero, Kikuo, he's 14 and playing a female role in an excerpt from a famous Kabuki play. (Men play all the roles in Kabuki.) His performance is seen by a Kabuki star, Hanai who's impressed by his talent. When Kikuo's yakuza father is murdered by a rival gang, Hanai takes him in as a protégé, teaching him to become an onnagata — a male actor who plays female roles. There is one snag. Hanai already has a son of the same age, Shunsuke, who is slated to be his artistic heir, and, in the Kabuki world, artistic status passes from father to son. The story of what transpires between Kikuo and Shunsuke a compelling story about friendship, the weight of history, the quest for perfection and the torturous road to becoming a living national treasure — which is what the word "kokuho" means. Spanning their lives, it also is a portrait of post WWII 20th century Japan, where ideas about birth and cultural inheritance, which seem quite dated. Then in Kikuo's struggle to become Japan's greatest Kabuki actor, we feel the chilly isolation of devoting yourself to an art form so demanding that it leaves little room for ordinary human connectionanything else--his connection with Shunsuke is the closest thing he has to an ordinary relationship. This is lush and gorgeous, all the while having a creepy undercurrent. Don't miss it.

The Voice of Hind Rajab (2025)

This is a docudrama that is nominated in the Best International Film category for the 2026 Academy Awards. It is a re-enactment of events that happened. On January 29th, 2024, the Israeli Army ordered the evacuation of the Tel Al-Hawa neighborhood in the Gaza Strip. On that day, six members of the Hamadeh family, along with their six-year-old niece, Hind Rajab, were trapped in their car after the Israeli Army opened fire on them, killing five occupants of the vehicle immediately. Miraculously, a fifteen-year-old girl named Layan was able to call the Palestinian Red Crescent Society and ask for help before she too succumbed to her wounds. That left six-year-old Hind alone in the car, surrounded by the corpses of her slain family members, possessing a cellphone with shoddy reception as her only hope. The conversations that members of the PRCS had with her while they are trying to coordinate an ambulance safe passage to come get her to safety use actual recordings of Hind and the movie quite dramatically takes the audience into the day to day stresses of being helpless at the end of a phone while people are in danger and at the mercy of what seems like a merciless war. This was very painful to watch.

It Was Just An Accident (2025)

This was submitted to the Academy for consideration for ‘Best International Feature Film’ by Tunisia, it is a film by an Iranian filmmaker about the repressive and violent Iranian regime. The movie opens with a couple and their child travelling home. They run over a dog, and while the child is very sorrowful about it, the parents shrug and say, “It was just an accident.” Several miles after the impact, their car breaks down outside a modest factory. An employee offers to fix their car while his co-worker Vahid (Vahid Mobasseri) talks on the phone in a backroom. Before he sees the driver, Vahid hears the shuffle and squeak of a prosthetic leg. His genial visage fades, and he sneaks around the corner to get a better look. From his vantage point, we only see the driver’s legs as he looks for a toolbox. When he asks for help, Vahid, hiding in another room, hooks his finger into his cheek to change his voice. Vahid believes this man is Eghbal, a former intelligence officer who tortured him years ago in prison. Vahid decides to act. He tracks the driver to a repair shop, hits him with his car, abducts him from the street, and drives out to the desert, where he digs a hole with the intent of burying him alive. When the man protests that he can’t be Peg Leg because his scars are recent, doubt creeps into Vahid’s mind. Does he actually have the right man? So, with Peg Leg in tow, he seeks out the opinions of others who he was imprisoned with, and that is the gist of the movie—the psychological damage inflicted cruelly and permanently by the torturer is explored in a surprisingly light hearted manner. I was dreading watching this, but very much enjoyed it.

Sentimental Value (2025)

This movie is nominated in 9 categories for the 2026 Oscars, including Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Director, and Best Screenplay, which is an accomplishment in and of itself, and a rarity for an international film that is largely not in English. Joachim Trier has a reputation as an auteur director and this film expands on that—there is an Ingmar Bergman feel to it, which we would now call depicting the effects of generational trauma and in Berman’s time we called it Scandinavian noir. Nora and her sister Agnes have an absent father, Gustav, who is a faded but famous film director. Their mother has died, and Gustav comes home to settle the estate and tries to reconnect with his daughters. He has written a part for Nora—it is an olive branch that she pushes angrily away, and so he tries to go another way with it. Everyone is so clearly damaged and so unwilling to compromise, all to their collective detriments, and while it is painful, oh so hard to watch, it is also brilliant and that is the feeling that stays with you days later after watching this and letting it settle with you for a bit.

Left Handed Girl (2025)

This entry into the International Film category by Taiwan was shortlisted for an Oscar, but learned today that they did not make the cut. It is well worth watching, none-the-less. The title centers on a cultural superstition, that left handed people are sinister. I-Jing, an angelic appearing five-year-old who has just moved back to Taipei with her mom and older sister, gets literal firsthand experience when her grandpa admonishes her for using her left hand for everything – it’s not natural; it’s the devil at work, he says. ‘The left hand is the devil’s hand’. I-Jing, a sweet five-year-old who has just moved back to Taipei with her mom and older sister, gets literal firsthand experience when her grandpa admonishes her for using her left hand for everything – it’s not natural; it’s the devil at work, he says. The scenery, all shot on an iPhone shows both a glitsy and a gritty Taipei. It summons the frenetic energy and sensory experience of Taipei. There are bright red Chinese characters overtaking the glass windows of a pawn shop; the pleasant melody of trash-collecting trucks; lush trees against grimy buildings that can nearly make you smell the specific essence of a bustling, wetter city. It pairs the kaleidoscopic fragments of the city with the splinters of imperfect people – poignantly and tenderly showing what it means to be a family in Taiwan. The story goes like this. Shu-Fen has set up a night market noodles stand, and her volatile daughter I-Ann left high school and works at a betel nut stall, where she’s sleeping with her boss. I-Jing, played by a very charming Nina Ye, starts a new school and, with the wonder only a child can have, tests out the potential of this newly anointed devil hand. The story that unfolds is a familiar one, but the telling of it is what makes this stand out.

Homebound (2025)

This movie is short listed for the International film category for the 2026 Oscars, and it is well worth watching--I really loved it. It is a story of friendship and tragedy. Chandan Kuma is a Dalit from what used to be called the “untouchable” caste, and his best friend Mohammed Shoaib Ali is a Muslim. The both come from dirt poor families and are facing few options to improve their lot unless they migrate to a city or go abroad. Indeed, Shoaib has just turned down a chance to work in Dubai. Chandan and Shoaib take the exam to qualify for the police academy on the same day, but bureaucracy being what it is they have nearly a year to wait for their results. They face limited choices for success which is based not on their talents but on their station at birth--the message is very clear that while there has been some movement on that front in India, the chances are still quite slim for success. The two of them part and come back together for a variety of reasons, and then COVID strikes and it all changes quite dramatically. The script is excellent, the cinematography equal to the task, and it is worthy of watching--also it is streaming on Netflix.

Marching Band (2024)

I did not watch a lot of great movies on my long haul trips so far this year, but this is the winner. French film-maker Emmanuel Courcol has a nice touch with this dramedy. Benjamin Lavernhe plays Thibaut, a distinguished and sensitive orchestra conductor who collapses mid-rehearsal in Paris and is told he has leukaemia and needs a bone marrow transplant donor. Thibaut is adopted and this means tracking down his biological brother out in the boondocks: factory worker Jimmy, played by the formidable Pierre Lottin, whose gift for deadpan comedy really only gets free rein at the very beginning of the film. Thibaut has the tricky task of asking someone who is a total stranger if he wouldn’t mind donating his bone marrow. But this fraught situation reveals – a little programmatically, perhaps – that Jimmy has a real musical talent, like him, plays trombone in the raucous factory band and nurses a passion for jazz on vinyl. Thibault sees in Jimmy a vision of what his own life could have been without his adoptive mother’s comfortable middle-class background, and sees Jimmy and himself through the lens of class, politics and society, and not the supposed destiny of pure talent. It is a great story well told, and it has the subtext of what the affirmative action of class provledge affords those who are born into it.

I'm Still Here (2024)

I finally saw the last of the 2025 Best Picture nominations, and this was fantastic. It is also based on a real story, and the film recreates the settings and the time. It is 1970 in Rio de Janeiro, where Eunice and Rubens live with their five children by Leblon Beach. With white sand as soft as pillows and blue seas as clear as the sky, the idyllic locale should be a soft landing for the Paiva family. An architect and former congressman, Rubens has only recently returned to the country after a six-year self-exile due to the 1964 coup d’état. For the family, however, the dictatorship is never far from the foreground. Military helicopters fly over the beach, and trucks carrying additional troops occupy the streets. Television news stations cover the release of the German and Swiss ambassadors from anti-government factional custody. Rubens also takes secret phone calls in his office, coordinating pickups and drop-offs of packages. The collapse occurs when Rubens is taken for questioning by plain-clothed army officials, a catastrophe that takes the film to darker places and engenders many unanswerable questions. And while it’s not a spoiler to say Eunice and her children will never see Rubens again, those hopeless queries aren’t necessarily what the movie is about. Rather, this poignant film concerns the response to having neither a definitive answer nor final closure. Eventually, Eunice and Eliana will be taken in for questioning, psychologically tortured, and then released. Eunice will pick up the pieces and dig, becoming politically active in the process. We will follow her struggle through the decades—her career as a professor and supporter of Indigenous rights—leaping to São Paulo in 1996 before settling in 2014. She made a life after that was both all her own and honored the legacy of her husband.

The Girl With The Needle (2024)

This is the Oscar nominee for Best International movie, which is from Denmark. To say that it is on the dark side is to ill prepare the viewer for what is to come. This is a relentlessly grim movie, one that serves as a reminder that women on the fringe of the economic ladder have been marginalized for generations, around the world. I did not know this, but read in a review that it is based on the true story of a Danish serial killer named Dagmar Overbye, which only becomes apparent later. What is apparent is that the movie becomes almost numbing in its brutality. The main character is Karolina, who is being evicted from her apartment for non-payment of rent when the movie opens. Her husband is a soldier in WWI and she has not heard from him, and what she makes at her job as a seamstress. Things go from bad to worse when her husband returns severely disfigured as well as psychologically damaged from the war, and she is abandoned by her wealthy lover when she becomes pregnant and his mother doesn't approve. She meets up with a woman who offers to help her find a home for her baby. She never quite turns the corner to a better life, but her journey is unexpected.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig (2024)

The reason that this is Germany's submission for best international film and not Iran's is that the director, Mohammad Rasoulof, is a fugitive Iranian director and dissident wanted by the police in his own country, where he has received a long prison sentence and flogging. It is one of the five films nominated in that catagory for the 2025 Academy Award. The movie begins as what my kids would call a downbeat political and domestic drama in the familiar style of Iranian cinema, and then progressively escalates to something extravagantly crazy and traumatized. Iman is an ambitious lawyer who has just been promoted to state investigator – one step short of being a full judge in the revolutionary court. He gets a handsome pay raise and better accommodation for his family: which consists of his wife and two student-age daughters. But the promotion almost immediately brings disappointment and tension: Iman, a judicious man, is stunned to discover that he is expected to rubber-stamp death-penalty judgments without reading the evidence. He is told that he must now be secretive with friends and family who could be threatened and doxed by criminal elements as a way of pressuring him. There are a series of unfortunate events that co-occur in the midst of the widespread protests in 2022 (which are shown in the movie with actual footage taken at the time) and the situation quickly deteriorates fpr Iman's family.

Frida (2024)

This documentary of the artist Frida Kahlo is one that you will love or hate, and it might depend on how you feel about the subject herself. Creative, colourful, and predominantly told through the words of its subject as recorded in her illustrated diaries, this engaging documentary about the Mexican artist is a beguiling and rather beautiful tribute to her spirit and originality. Its deft blend of archive footage and what I found to be lovely, organic animation of her works of art marks the directorial debut of Carla Gutiérrez, who served as the editor on several documentaries about groundbreaking women including RBG, about Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and Julia, which looked at the legacy of television chef Julia Child. Kahlo’s life was full and eventful, but while the film doesn’t attempt to explore every aspect and every romantic connection, it does delve satisfyingly deeply into her interior life, explored through her artistic output. There is something wildly appealing about how Kahlo approaches art that has endured robustly, more so than her fragile body endured, and for me, it is captured in this imaginative telling of her life and her creative process. I saw an exhibit of her early work, some dating back to her childhood, and the consistency with which she applied magical realism to her art is breathtaking, and reflected throughout this documentary, which is short listed for the 2025 Feature Length Documentary Academy Award.

The Taste of Things (2023)

I cannot say what it is like to watch this movie if you do not like to cook or to eat, but as someone who loves to cook and also to eat it is immensely pleasurable. And you know it from the opening scene--why? Because it is 38 minutes long and it shows two people, and their two young assistants, preparing a meal in a big country kitchen. The meal is intricate, and multiple courses are being prepared simultaneously. The camera glides through the kitchen, following the characters as they bring a handful of vegetables to an already hot pan on the stove, circling back to the chopping on a nearby table. The camera never stops moving. What we are doing, for 38 minutes, is watching these people cook, and, naturally, drooling over the meal being prepared before our eyes. This scene is an amazing feat, so much so that there's satisfaction when you watch the guests in the dining room taste the food, savoring every bite, not even needing to say a word. The pleasure is palpable. It extends to the growing of the food as well--there is attention to detail at every step, from where the food starts to ending up on the table and being consumed. This is also a love affair between two people--Dodin and Eugénie have been companionably working side by side for twenty years. Their story unfolds in its own time, in its own way. Nothing is pushed. Nothing is heightened artificially. The devotion to food is both real and metaphor: how we prepare food, the care we take, indicates how we feel for each other. But it's also the thrill of the preparation in and of itself.The kitchen feels like a place you know, or at least a place you'd like to enter into. The details of cooking without electricity, without plugged-in appliances, is attended to in great detail. This is so so good, do not miss it. I see why France picked this as their International Film submission, it captures what I love about the French food culture.

Totem (2023)

This is a movie about culture in modern day Mexico, with one foot in the 21st century and one firmly in the land of their ancestors. It is also about family and anticipatory grief. The movie opens with a mother and daughter driving across a bridge. THe seven-year-old Sol and her mother engage in a rite of superstition, holding their breath and making a wish. Sol declares that her wish is for her father to live; her mother focuses on the road ahead. The movie goes on to follow a day in the life of Sol and her family as they prepare a birthday party for her sick father-—an event that’s gravity sets in as the hours pass—both a celebration of another year and a preemptive, heartfelt sending off. Presented largely from the point of view of two children, this film immerses the audience in a boisterous family gathering, where a handful of adult siblings have gathered to celebrate the birthday of their brother, a painter named Tonatiuh. Tona is barely seen for most of the movie, confined to a back room where he refuses visitors. Naturally, this confuses his daughter, who spends the day wandering the house alone, building a pillow fort in the living room or collecting snails in the garden, and wondering why her father doesn't love her. There are several things that sink in as you watch this calm and collected depiction of "A Day In The Live" of Sol. One is that this family will remember Toma after he is gone and his memory will be a blessing--but that Sol is not being prepared for the death of her father, and that will be a trauma to unpack later. The other is that a culture that revolves around food, family, and friends has a lot to recommend it. This is quietly lovely and well worth watching.

Fallen Leaves (2023)

This film has been submitted by Finland for the Best International Film category and was shortlisted for that back in December. I do not have a lot of experience with Finnish films, but this seems very much related to the Scandinavian film school, where even humor can be dark. I read a review which posited that this is a perfect film, which is defined as: A perfect film knows what it’s about, knows what it wants to say, and knows that even when what it has to say is unusually simple, what it says can’t be reduced to words or any form of description apart from the thing itself, and that a perfect film has to be seen in order for its perfection to be appreciated. There is a lot going on in this sparse movie, most of it without much in the way of dialogue. The movie is a muted romance that goes through conventional narrative paces. A man, Jussi, and woman, Ansa, both shrouded in loneliness, almost meet, then do meet, then can’t meet, then meet again, then come to an understanding that unites them. The complications are familiar ones. There’s booze, there are bad jobs, there’s an encroaching outside world full of troubles. This are a lot of socially conscious aspects of this, down to Ansa’s evening radio broadcasts delineating the Russian invasion of Mariupol deliberate bombing of civilians, ending with a report of the loss of life at a maternity hospital. I had just watched the documentary of this, and the radio reports accurately reflected those atrocities. Finland shares a 830 miles border, so it is quite relevant to them what their neighbors consider standard operating procedures if they think it is theirs to take.

Godzilla Minus One (2023)

Godzilla turns 70 next year, and to celebrate, his parent company Toho Studios released a very conventional Godzilla movie, one that won an academy award. The story is this: Set in 1946, “Godzilla Minus One” follows a spiritually depleted group of ex-military men as they rally to vanquish everyone’s favorite kaiju antihero. Here, Godzilla’s presence is a given, as it probably should be after dozens of movies and spinoff projects. If traumatized survivors like disgraced kamikaze pilot Koichi Shikishima can’t stop Godzilla, he will destroy Ginza and then stomp all over Tokyo. Koichi is motivated by survivor’s guilt. In an establishing scene on Odo Island, Koichi takes aim at Godzilla but can’t bring himself to shoot. As a result, several fellow army men die, leaving Koichi to bury their bodies. Reviving Koichi’s ultimately patriotic mojo takes priority since that sort of nationalistic passion is apparently essential to fighting Godzilla. I have to say, this was my last choice in the category that it won in, but I suspect that there is an element of nostalgia that propelled it forward in the voting. If you are a Godzilla fan, this will likely appeal, but if not, maybe not.

Godland (2023)

The attraction for me in this Icelandic film that was short listed for Best International Film is that it is filmed in an exceptionally stark and beautiful place. An inexperienced Danish priest is sent to Iceland to establish a new church, but it turns out that he is singularly unprepared in every way to accomplish this task. Set in the late 19th century, It tracks the priest, Lucas, as he sails to Iceland, where he insults the team that will be transporting him, and they bear with him as he trudges across by horse, foot and finally stretcher. Outwardly, his mission is familiar. The church will promote the faith and provide services to the coastal flock, a commission that he undertakes with confidence, a stack of heavy books and a large, cumbersome still camera that he straps to his back. He hopes to photograph the people that he meets during his expedition, a ludicrous, paradoxical idea for a man who proves wholly incapable of seeing the world around him. Early on the physical weight of what he brings leads to a death, yet he is unable to regroup. He is a strange and quite off putting character who not only doesn’t get it but doesn’t learn. The hero of the movie is the land itself, the rough beauty of the country is central to the appeal of the story.

Perfect Days (2023)

Wim Wenders, for me, the director of Paris, Texas fame, directs this Japanese movie, which was Japan's entry into the Oscars for consideration for Best International Film, and it made the final list of nominees. There is a Japanese word, “komorebi”, which was the original title of the film. Literally translated, it means “sunlight leaking through trees”, but there’s more to it than that. It speaks of a profound connection with nature, and the necessity to pause, to take the time to absorb and appreciate the perfection of tiny, seemingly insignificant details. This theme is visited throughout the movie in dreams. Every day is the same. Hirayama, a taciturn man in his 60s, wakes in his spartan apartment to the reluctant grey light of pre-dawn. He pulls on his overalls, takes a can of coffee from a street vending machine and sets out in his modest little van to start work, diligently cleaning the public toilets of Tokyo. It’s a solitary life. Hirayama can go days saying no more than a few cursory words. If members of the public notice him, they largely view him as an inconvenience. But mostly they don’t even see him. It should be the most soul-crushingly bleak film ever made – an endless and predictable grind with banality and urinal cakes. But the zen meditation on beauty, fulfilment and simplicity is quite the opposite: it’s an achingly lovely and unexpectedly life-affirming picture. It all depends – and this is central to the film’s gently profound message – on your way of looking at things. Hirayama looks at the world with his eyes, but sees with his heart. Hirayama has not only grasped komorebi, he has made it the keystone of his essence. He sees all things, all people, as equally important, with an equal capacity for transcendence. It is both a peaceful concept and a life lesson.

The Teacher's Lounge (2023)

This is a quiet yet an intense thriller about things that happen every day. It is very difficult to watch, but in the way that very uncomfortable things happen. The teacher at the center of this is Carla Nowak, a Polish emigre teaching math and physical education. She’s an idealist about education and the obligation of citizens to look out for each other. She’s a do-gooder, mostly in a constructive way. When one her kids gets hauled out of class to be accused of stealing, Carla has to sit in on a conference with the boy and his parents as they explain that they gave him the money so he could buy a videogame and suggest that it’s racism (they’re Turkish) that put them in this humiliating predicament. It seems like a convincing explanation. Carla believes it. But the event deepens her fear of theft. The next time she’s on break in the teachers’ lounge and has to leave it, she keeps her laptop open with the video camera secretly running. When she returns, she finds some cash missing from the wallet she left in her inside coat pocket. A check of the recording shows somebody taking money from her wallet while she was out of the room. Then things start to fall apart. Carla loses control in a lot of ways, most of which we can identify with, and the movie spirals in a very uncomfortable direction. It is a story of unintended consequences, where some have regrets and others are collateral damage.