There’s a scene in the second act of Michael Showalter’s “The Big Sick” that cuts to the heart of what the director’s fact-based feature – penned by star Kumail Nanjiani and his wife Emily Gordon, who lived through the whole ordeal – gets so right in what could be a very formulaic feature. Forced to bond with his now-ex-girlfriend’s parents (played by a just perfect Ray Romano and Holly Hunter) as she lays in a coma, Kumail (Nanjiani) reluctantly invites the ‘rents to one of his comedy shows, partly because he has no choice, but mainly because they all need something to do in the wake of such confusion. The show is a huge bomb. Kumail’s set is awful and a racist heckler goes at him. Hunter’s Beth snaps. It’s funny and sad and weird and really, really awful, and it’s all told from a place of extreme honesty. That’s what sets “The Big Sick” apart from its genre ilk and makes it such a well-deserved festival breakout – it’s funny and sad and weird, and it’s all totally true. —Kate Erbland
Adapted from André Aciman's beloved 2007 novel of the same name and directed by Luca Guadagnino ("I Am Love") with all of his usual cool, the rapturous "Call Me By Your Name" deserves to be spoken of in the same breath as recent LGBT phenomenons "Carol" and "Moonlight," telling a story that operates on its own terms while matching the artistry and empathy with which those modern masterworks untangled the repressive desire of same-sex attraction. Set at the height of summer in Northern Italy circa 1983, the film observes the knotted and uncertain attraction between a scrawny 17-year-old kid (Timothée Chalamet) and the arrogant hunk (Armie Hammer, never better) who's interning for the teenager's father. Anchored by a pair of beautifully heartfelt performances and shot with immeasurable sensuality by Thai cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom ("Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives" and "Arabian Nights"), "Call Me By Your Name" is a full-bodied film that submits all of its many beauties to the service of one simple truth: The more we change, the more we become who we are. — David Ehrlich
Specificity is the lifeblood of documentaries. That Evgeny Afineevsky’s overview of the post-revolution crisis in Syria manages to maintain its focus, even as it weaves together the perspectives of so many of those affected by the existing regime’s crimes, is an impressive achievement. As he did with his previous film “Winter on Fire,” Afineevsky utilizes footage shot by bystanders, journalists and activists alike, giving the film a first-person urgency that best conveys the horror of what’s happening in the region. The resulting film is unflinching in its documentation of the suffering experienced by refugees and those trapped within the confines of the country’s major cities. It does not exploit this violence simply for dramatic effect, but redirects it so that we might share in their outrage. In a world where entire groups of people can be painted in the abstract, “Cries from Syria” takes their pain and makes it something more than theoretical, that we might be moved to action. At the very least, it provides and amplifies indisputable proof that these victims are people who deserve empathy, not callous dismissal. —Steve Greene
In "Dina," the moving sophomore effort from Dan Sickles and Antonio Santini, the directors follow the quiet life of 48-year-old Dina Buno, a woman who has Asberger's Syndrome and attempts to rediscover romance after a traumatic experience in her developing relationship with a man named Scott, who has intimacy issues of his own. While Dina's problems ostracize her from the world at large, she finds a way forward in a community steeped in kindness and acceptance. It's a timeless sentiment, but one that stands as particularly constructive at a moment when the cultural landscape is more fragmented than ever before. The filmmakers are so efficient at framing Dina's life as a sweet comedy, with sturdy camerawork and an involving score by no less than Michael Cera, that it catapults above traditional cinema verite and feels more like a scripted narrative. Appropriately, the movie won the U.S. Grand Jury Prize for Documentary, and it's safe to say that its lead gives the best performance of the year in the story of her life. —Eric Kohn
Anyone hoping for a more conventional movie from writer-director Alex Ross Perry will likely be disappointed with "Golden Exits," but there's plenty to love about this quiet little drama. The film confidently eschews traditional story structure as it chronicles the intersection of its seven main characters' lives. Remarkably light on action but heavy on emotional depth, "Golden Exits" centers on a relationship between the grey-haired archivist Fletcher (former Beastie Boy Adam Horowitz) and a young employee from Australia (Emily Browning). There is no real protagonist, however, as the ensemble cast of Jason Schwartzman, Chloë Sevigny, Mary-Louise Parker, Lily Rabe and Analeigh Tipton collectively guide the narrative like hands on a Ouija board. Plot-wise, almost nothing happens, and you never know quite where the story is going, right up until the final scene. Part of this understated drama's appeal is the way characters bear their deep wounds and don their shiny protective armor without ever butting heads. In the end, "Golden Exits" succeeds by never revealing more than is necessary to keep us engaged and interested in where these troubled, kindred spirits are taking us. —Graham Winfrey
The story of a lower-class father attempting to raise his young son doesn't sound like groundbreaking material, but "Menashe" puts that bittersweet formula into an exciting new context. Shot exclusively in Brooklyn's Hasidic community in Borough Park with a script almost entirely spoken in Yiddish, the narrative debut of cinematographer and documentarian Joshua Z. Weinstein has the precision of an ethnographic experiment. The movie exists within the confines of its insular setting, and features a cast of real-life Hasidim riffing on the traditions that govern their everyday lives, but manages to mine a degree of emotional accessibility that extends far beyond the neighborhood's borders. At its center is Menashe (Menashe Lustig), a well-intentioned widow who just wants to be a good father to his young son, even as others in the community insist the boy is raised by a more conventional family. Menashe's attempts to win back the truth of his peers and become a decent family man blossoms into a surprisingly powerful drama, on par with "Bicycle Thieves" for its gentle vision of father-son bonding, shot with a naturalistic eye reminiscent of the Dardenne brothers. It's a wholly satisfying window into an underrepresented world, but it's biggest revelation is just how much the struggles found within its frames look so familiar. —EK
In the vein of documentaries like Jonathan Caouette's "Tarnation," or Sarah Polley's "Stories We Tell," Yance Ford's stunning tour de force opens the wounds of his own personal tragedy: The 1992 murder of his brother, William Ford, Jr., at the age of 24. Tracing his family's roots from the Jim Crow era South to the illusory safety of a predominantly black Long Island suburb, Ford attempts to make sense of his transformative loss through unembellished interviews with his mother and reading William's diary. In his own interviews he coaxes himself to dig below the layers of memory and tell the story as plainly as possible: "Okay — what do I remember?" he says, eyes closed. His weathered fingers lay out vintage family photos against a simple white backdrop as he narrates the family history. The film takes on yet another layer knowing that Ford recently came out as transgender, and that William was his only brother. He blames himself for not telling his mother about a phone call he received from William, presumably out of brotherly loyalty. As moving an essay "Strong Island" is about tragedy, family, memory, and unthinkable racial injustice, it is just as much about male identity lost and found. —Jude Dry
The passage of time in Jonathan Olshefski’s profile of North Philadelphia’s Rainey family is something wonderful to behold. Though the film does have its totemic markers of presidential election and natural disasters, “Quest” luxuriates in the space between those moments, observing every family member as they gradually move towards the future. Setbacks and triumphs seemingly come hand-in-hand for the Raineys. But seeing Christopher, Christine’a, PJ and William all choose which of those two define their lives is a gradual process that comes from patience, trust and a keen eye for story. In capturing this family and the vibrant neighborhoods in which they live, Olshefski crafts a perfect response to so many policy issues that face our entire nation. In the process, “Quest” becomes a testament to the power of listening, giving voice to individuals and communities in their own words and actions. It’s a seamless portrayal of one family’s journey, with a special kind of passion emanating from every frame. —Steve Greene
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