1. ...a pátý jezdec je Strach / ... and the Fifth Horseman Is Fear (Zbyněk Brynych, 1965)
“Hate is contagious. More so than any plague. And it spreads by chain reaction.”
I have seen great many films that are beautifully shot, but Jan Kalis takes B&W cinematography to a whole new level of stunning, the party scene being the standout, with its brilliant blocking and the subtlest (i.e. not once showy) use of camera angles and movements. Making the meticulous framing even more compelling is Zbynek Brynych’s art of transmuting those images into a mesmerizing if dread-inducing portrait of paranoia that permeates Nazi-occupied Prague, and – in an anachronistic twist – actually represents the city under the stern Stalinist regime. The sublime expressiveness of the visuals is accentuated by uncanny silences, and Jiří Sternwald’s sparsely, yet cleverly deployed score – discordantly disquieting as the epitome of mental strain caused by oppression which is best reflected in the ‘nervy’ performance from Miroslav Machácek as a tragic hero, Dr. Armin Braun. The undercurrent of Kafkaesque absurdity adds another layer of nightmarish depth to the story that seems unfortunately relevant today.
2. Mr. K (Tallulah Hazekamp Schwab, 2024)
Kafka meets Jeunet, and Cronenberg passes by to say ‘hi’ in a surrealist mystery of absurd proportions, with the leading man Crispin Glover amplifying eccentricity via both his strong presence and superb performance. His magician protagonist’s desire to escape is at a weirdo heart of an existentialist allegory / a meditation on (metaphysical) loneliness set in a decrepit but extravagant hotel whose labyrinthine, charmingly vintage, and ever-shrinking interior establishes a dense atmosphere of claustrophobia. Broom closets are turned to secret passageways, and members of brass orchestra emerge from small wall openings, as things go from irrational to ludicrous, all tucked into exquisite, green-and-brown-dominated designs by Manolito Glas and Maarten Piersma. The ‘impossible architecture’ of the place appears to reflect Mr. K’s growing confusion, or rather living and breathing nightmare, whereas the pacing – along with the quirky inhabitants unwilling to change status quo – works against his efforts to find the exit. Not much is disclosed about this character, and yet his unenviable situation feels relatable, the inexorable vagueness of the narrative compelling the viewer to root for him. I’m not familiar with Schwab’s earlier directorial efforts, but being a sucker for Kafkaesque cinema, I can’t wait to see what she has in store next.
3. Manhunter (Michael Mann, 1986)
In one of the most stunningly framed thrillers (hats off to cinematographer Dante Spinotti!), the immersive, chilling austerity of visuals finds a perfect match in the psychological tension that simmers under the surface. Suspense is built and maintained through an expert use of cinematic language, and is sometimes strongly felt when you least expect it, the scene of petting a sedated tiger being a great example. Even the watching of home videos is enveloped in a menacing aura largely emanating from Tom Noonan in the role of a deranged killer dubbed ‘the Tooth Fairy’. Although his screen time is limited and none of the heinous crimes is shown, what is left to the viewer’s imagination is nauseating enough. And that gives a pretty good idea of the mental strain under which the hero of the story – adapted from Thomas Harris’s novel Red Dragon – operates, as he tries to enter the perpetrator’s mind, with William Petersen approaching his character in a similar fashion. Mann has a firm (at times, perhaps, too firm) grasp over the material, providing us with a somewhat bizarre, In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida catharsis.
4. Sinners (Ryan Coogler, 2025)
In a postmodernist throwback to the early 1930s, the vampire horror is revitalized with a lively blues twist, introducing the incredible, viscerally velvety baritone of Miles Caton in his outstanding silver screen debut. A perfect choice for someone with a legendary gift of ‘piercing the veil between life and death’, as shown in the anthological scene of ‘conjuring spirits from the past and the future’, he is partnered by Michael B. Jordan in a twin role played smoothly, and with indelible charisma. Actually, it is the entire cast that leaves a lasting impression, making you forget that what you’re watching brims with all-too-familiar bloodsucking tropes, seamlessly blended with elements of crime, musical and action genres. Also lending gravitas to the proceedings is Coogler’s gripping direction, and his keen sense of suspense and mise-en-scène, beautifully supported by Autumn Durald Arkapaw’s crisp cinematography, and Ludwig Göransson’s brilliant score. 
5. Kuro Tokage / Black Lizard (Kinji Fukasaku, 1968)
In one of the most fascinating (not to mention feminine) drag performances, Akihiro Miwa commands every scene (s)he’s in, as the titular mastermind criminal who runs a nightclub adorned with Aubrey Beardsley’s art, has a thing for shiny jewels, and owns a secret living doll museum in which one of the ‘statues’ is played by THE Yukio Mishima. The latter’s stage adaptation of Rampo Edogawa’s novel serves as the foundation for Kinji Fukasaku’s psychedelic noir – a sparkling confluence of comic book-like pulp and classy camp aesthetics that turns a cat-and-mouse battle of wits into a dreamlike cinematic delight. A bizarrely romantic ode to beauty, Black Lizard is a feast for the eyes, whether it is soaked in deep shadows, awashed in vivid colors, or both at once, providing a fitting backdrop for Miwa’s compelling melodramatics.
6. Den stygge stesøsteren / The Ugly Stepsister (Emilie Blichfeldt, 2025)
A spiritual successor to Coralie Fargeat’s acclaimed sophomore flick The Substance, The Ugly Stepsister is one of the boldest takes on the Cinderella story, amping up the gruesomeness of the Grimm Brothers’ version, and adding a dash of kink. Set in a fictitious kingdom of what appears to be the 19th century, the film is told from the twisted perspective of Elvira (Lea Myren, a tour de force in her first big-screen appearance), whose daydreaming of marrying prince Julian (Isac Calmroth) – charming only in her imagination – sets her on a painful, self-destructive path of meeting the cruel beauty standards. Assisted by her toxically ambitious mother, Rebekka (Ane Dahl Torp), and challenged by the original protagonist turned mean-spirited blondie (Thea Sofie Loch Næss), she subjects herself to inhuman procedures of Dr. Esthétique, and her tutoress, ranging from eyelash sewing (evocative of the iconic Opera scene) to a tapeworm diet (!) with a sickening epilogue.
Add to that the rotting corpse of Cinderella’s father that plays a sort of a stand-in for the fairy godmother, and the infamous toe-cutting depicted in all of the practical SFX g(l)ory, and you have yourself a squirm-inducing reading of a fairy tale that puts Emilie Blichfeldt on a map of filmmakers to keep an eye on. What elevates her feature debut is the empathy she feels for her (anti)heroine, as well as for other deeply flawed (and largely opportunistic) characters, embodying it in another stepsister, Alma (Flo Fagerli, lovely!), and eliciting it from the viewer. Her sense of style, pacing, dark humor, and edgy satire are also commendable, complemented by sumptuous set and costume designs that convey the period, without taking away from the contemporaneity simmering under the surface.
7. The Committee (Peter Sykes, 1968)
“I think the whole world is a madhouse... an extended madhouse...
As long as the dialogue goes on, there’s a chance of rationality.”
During an engine check-up, a hitchhiker decapitates the driver with a car hood, sews his head back on, and the victim miraculously comes to life with no memory of what happened. Later on, the unnamed (anti)hero –portrayed by singer and actor Paul Jones (credited as Central Figure), and showing no signs of psychopathic behavior whatsoever – gets the invitation to the mysterious Committee, when the elements of Kafkaesque reality start kicking in. In the so-called Lodge where Central Figure is summoned along with many others, including his amnesiac Victim (Tom Kempinski), people socialize in a rather relaxed (holiday) atmosphere that is at one point heated up by the wild, out-of-nowhere performance of The Crazy World of Arthur Brown. Pink Floyd is also featured on the psychedelic soundtrack, and the dialogues vary from absurdly comical to (pseudo)philosophical to metaphysical, touching upon dichotomies such as individual vs. society, authority vs. its rejection, impulsiveness vs. passivity, and providing you with a mind-titillating experience. Anchored in cinematographer Ian Wilson’s keen lensing, with certain angles emphasizing the ‘offness’ of the goings-on, Peter Sykes’s hour-long debut is a cool, charming cinematic oddity, something like Cocteau’s ‘cenatur in reverse’ that is initially mistakenly referenced as ‘senator in reverse’ during a mod party. The real question is: “Do you play bridge?”
8. Freaky Tales (Anna Boden & Ryan Fleck, 2024)
With its heart (and attitude) in the right place, the latest offering from Anna Boden & Ryan Fleck (Captain Marvel) brings a delightful concoction of (dark) humor, action, drama and fantasy all neatly packed in four interconnected stories of Oakland’s underdogs. Teen punks defend their hangout zone from skinheads, a rap duo is immortalized after a local stage duel, a weary debt collector is given a chance for redemption, and a basketball player releases his inner ninja on a racists’ den. A pulptastic love letter to the 80’s, cinema, music, comics, and the town of Oakland where Fleck grew up, the film wears its various influences – from Heavy Metal and Scanners to Blue Velvet and Pulp Fiction to Scott Pilgrim vs. the World – on its sleeve, gluing them with edgy social commentary or rather, keen sense of poetic justice, and blurring the boundaries between myths and memories. Its nostalgic hyper-reality is beautifully framed in academy ratio by Jac Fitzgerald, and sprinkled with a pinch of VHS artifacts in post-production, whereby the mixtape vibes of the narrative structure are reinforced by the soundtrack’s eclecticism. Lending gravitas to this charming, fun-filled romp is the solid cast, the standouts being Dominique Thorne and Normani (in her big-screen debut) as empowered besties, Pedro Pascal, brooding in the role of an ex-henchman, Tom Hanks in a movie-connoisseur cameo, and Ben Mendelsohn with his pitch-perfect take on a slimy police sheriff.
9. Swimming Home (Justin Anderson, 2024)
So, it seems like Theorem and Swimming Pool have a child baptized by Yorgos Lanthimos in a secret queer chapel haunted by Yoshishige Yoshida’s spirit. As odd (and off!) as it gets, Justin Anderson’s feature debut marries deliberate emotional inertia with uncanny formal austerity into a surrealist drama that wears absurdity and alienation proudly on its sleeves. ‘An acquired taste’ label easily applies to pretty much every aspect of this film, from the weird framing that emphasizes detachment, to Coti K’s discordantly unnerving score pulling you into an opaque dream, to mannered performances from the ensemble cast orbiting around always reliable Ariane Labed in the role of a mysterious, ‘toxic’ stranger. Even nudity / eroticism is treated in a way that makes one more puzzled than titillated, adding to the (inspiring) sense of disorientation. Now, that is a good fix of unconventional cinema!
10. Houdini (George Marshall, 1953)
Filmed in glorious Technicolor, with a resplendent score adding to the magic, Houdini is a snappily paced, partly fictionalized biopic on one of the greatest illusionists portrayed by Tony Curtis whose good looks are matched by innate charisma, dedicated performance, and sparkling chemistry with his then wife Janet Leigh, also great. Breezy, zesty, and crackling with life-affirming energy, the movie can be seen as a celebration of following one’s dreams at any cost; its eye-pleasing set and costume designs beautifully framed by Ernest Laszlo who previously collaborated with Joseph Losey on his version of M.
