There’s something rich at the heart of Afire that, whether intentionally or not, is kept at arm’s length from the viewer. Over the course of Leon’s (Thomas Schubert) quiet summer retreat to work on the manuscript for his second book, we come to understand his generally irritable nature as not just creative but existential. Through his eyes and writer-director Christian Petzold’s expertly restrained sensibilities for drama, every moment becomes tinged with a vague jealousy—insecurity about other people leading satisfied lives, and his inability to let anything be without finding fault in it first. Leon is meant to be difficult to sympathize with, but at his core is an emptiness that comes with the acknowledgement of how limited one’s future really is.

And on the opposite end is Nadja (Paula Beer), a woman who just happens to be staying at the same vacation home due to an overlap in booking, whom Leon sees as a reminder for everything he lacks: romance, thoughtful attentiveness, and a love of life that helps her to stop focusing on what she thinks she lacks. The film stops short of having these characters undergo change that feels truly meaningful, but just seeing them dance around each other with a sharpening tension is well worth the experience.

Based on four different books by Colombian author Mario Mendoza, The Initiated (or Los Iniciados) is perhaps too much of a good thing at times, as it struggles to have its many different pieces cohere into one thematic idea. These separate pieces are intriguing on their own, for sure: poisoned water supply, underground activists, the mayor potentially being involved in mysterious disappearances of bodies. But by the end, the film’s noir elements seem to be mostly ornamental in nature, with the supposedly twisty narrative arriving at an overly tidy conclusion.

With that said, even just spending time in The Initiated’s gloomy city streets and grimy underbelly should be a joy for anyone who already enjoys hardboiled crime dramas. Solid performances and strong technical craft all around keep this world immersive no matter if the central investigation is actually progressing logically or not. It’s a film that, impressively, manages to still be suspenseful just on the strength of its mood and atmosphere alone. All the danger feels raw and threatening, and leads us to imagine an even harsher world outside of what we see on screen.

In the Great Seduction, locals of a small town trick a bigshot doctor into thinking that despite the place’s insufficiencies, it’s still worth settling into. They pretend to love American football because it’s his favorite sport. They leave paper bills to make him think he’s lucky. They eavesdrop on his calls to learn what dish he’d like for the day. But as the schemes escalate from amusing to immoral, the audience along with German are forced to wonder: does the end justify the means? Unfortunately, the film never answers its own ethical dilemma, nor does it offer meaningful insights or fresh perspectives about it. There’s also the lesser but equally distracting problem of Mateo’s medical background serving very little purpose in the film. The townspeople bend over backward to secure Mateo not because he’s a doctor who could literally save lives, but because the company they’re pitching to requires a doctor to be present for legal purposes. The film doesn’t always make sense, although when it does, it absolutely shines. It’s offbeat and jubilant, with a lot of charm to spare. It’s the type of film whose omissions you’d easily forgive because of how often it’ll make you smile. 

With a new, fast-paced media landscape, Call Me Chihiro might feel too slow for people new to the story. Composed of serene, slice-of-life moments, the film starts off feeling plotless, as the titular protagonist builds random interactions with the townspeople. She makes friends with people who seemingly don’t have much in common with her. Despite this, each interaction feels meaningful and genuine, thanks to the subtle acting of Kasumi Arimura. And as these scenes build up, and Chihiro’s friends begin to become friends with each other, these day-to-day moments form a character study of a lonely woman whose kindness and appreciation for life make her feel so admirable. For those wistful Sunday nights, Call Me Chihiro might be a great watch, but only if you’re in that certain mood.

It seems unfair to call Neeyat India’s (and Amazon Prime’s) answer to the Knives Out series of films, but it often feels that way. It’s a murder mystery that sides with the poor and satirizes the rich, and it mostly takes place in a grand manor that forces its colorful cast of characters to interact until, inevitably, their hidden motives surface. Of course, Neeyat isn’t an exact replica; it has its own inflections and charms, and figuring out how India’s ultra-rich live, specifically, is its own kind of fun. In fact, this is when the film shines the most, when it allows its talented cast to parade the silliness of their characters. Like Knives Out, it makes for a great ensemble movie. But as a murder mystery, Neeyat is not as successful in weaving multiple mysteries and pulling off twists. It’s bogged down by unnecessary melodrama, flashbacks, and exposition, eventually falling off the rails of logic. It’s still enjoyable, for sure, but maybe more as a campy comedy than as a genuinely thrilling mystery. 

Based on the rumors, When Frank Met Carlitos is a fun reimagination of how the meeting between Carlos Gardel and Frank Sinatra went. While the meeting is entirely fictional, it’s an interesting what-if scenario, as the real-life Sinatra went into music because of American singer Bing Crosby, who in turn, was notably inspired by Gardel, the Il Muto. Split between their languages, Gardel and Sinatra still have a shared understanding, piecing together each other’s thoughts through shared loan words, and imparting knowledge through dramatic song. As the fictionalized versions of the best singers from the American continent interact, the TV special seems like a send-off from a wiser generation to their younger counterparts.

As sexy and intriguing as Rosa Peral’s case sounds, this documentary suggests that it’s just another instance of the public’s wild if harmful imagination. Both the media and prosecutors made Peral out to be a promiscuous woman out for blood, with tabloids calling her a “go-go dancer” and a “stripper,” despite being neither, and public officials recalling her sexual activities in court, despite their irrelevance to the case. Via a phone call from prison, Peral debunks these claims and tries her best to reclaim the narrative. It’s the first interview she’s given since being convicted for 25 years in 2020, and in a finely balanced move, the filmmakers contrast her impassioned testimony with interviews they’ve conducted with Peral’s critics and prosecutors, thus giving us enough to deliberate among the two sides. If the documentary ever seems biased towards Peral, it’s clear that it’s only to offset the weirdly strong vitriol she’s received among the Spanish public. 

It’s slower and talkier than you’d expect from a semi-erotic film, but Ehnegard lives up to its title well enough to satisfy. It’s titillating, but in a cheeky rather than provocative way. The dialogues are lengthy, but they’re alternately witty and poetic, so despite the pace they never actually bore. Ehnegard’s real delight, however, is its beauty. Set in the old kingdom of Babenhausen, Ehnegard looks like a fairy tale come to life. The towering castles, the sprawling meadows, the twinkling forest lakes, and of course, the smartly costumed people who populate the scenery—all these and more ensure that each frame has a picturesque glow to it. And with Sidse Babett Knudsen (Borgen, Westworld) taking charge of an appealing cast, Ehnegard proves to be a charming watch. 

Because the world exploits developing countries as dumping grounds for their waste, more attention should be focused on this issue. The immediate filmmaking response would be to document this reality, but Telugu thriller Gandeevadhari Arjuna takes this idea as the driving force of its story. It’s the reason why the bodyguard Arjun takes this job, as well as the reason why the Minister needs protection and why his family has unresolved drama. While the romance subplot distracts from this issue, Gandeevadhari Arjuna deftly interweaves this real-life problem into sleek action sequences, relatable family drama, and a personalized depiction of the problem’s consequences.

Yu Katayama lives in a remote village with a garbage disposal business that’s slowly turning into a landfill. When his childhood friend Misaki Nakai returns to the village, she encourages Yu to make a better life for himself despite his mother’s gambling and the village ostracizing him. The Village is a slow-burning film interested in Yu’s struggles as an outcast and in discussing the takeover of small villages for capitalistic industrial motives. The film is shot beautifully with dark, brooding visuals and lingering shots of Yu’s quiet intensity throughout the film. Unfortunately, secondary characters are not fully developed outside of their interactions with Yu, causing the film to feel flat outside of pivotal moments. An evocative idea with parts more memorable than the whole.