Imagine Handmaid’s Tale mated with Black Mirror after a particularly bad date with Big Tech, and you’ll start to get a sense of the claustrophobic hellscape that is The Assessment.

François Ozon's When Fall Is Coming presents itself like a rustic linen tablecloth at a bourgeois garden party—calm, sun-dappled, faintly melancholic.

In the labyrinthine world of espionage, where trust is a currency often devalued, Steven Soderbergh's Black Bag attempts to weave a tale of intrigue, betrayal, and marital discord.

Let’s talk about smoke, secrets, and the soft rustle of silk robes concealing centuries of institutional rot. Conclave, Edward Berger’s adaptation of Robert Harris’s novel, is a slow-burn ecclesiastical thriller that traps us inside the velvet-lined chamber of the Vatican’s most secretive ritual—the election of a new pope. But don’t mistake its solemnity for sanctity.

There are quiet films that whisper, and then there are quiet films that haunt you like a hymn sung in an abandoned church. Small Things Like These, based on the Claire Keegan novella and starring Cillian Murphy, is the latter. It’s a film that burns slowly but leaves a deep, unshakeable ash in the soul.

Oh, Anora. If you want to witness the cinematic equivalent of a beautifully iced cake being left out in the rain—slowly melting, still sweet, vaguely tragic—then by all means, book your ticket. This is not a film, it’s a postmodern fairy tale, surgically dissected and stitched back together by a director clearly weaned on Cassavetes and vodka.