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    ‘God’s Creatures’ Review: A Crisis of Conscience

    Emily Watson is terrific at telegraphing how a mother’s love grinds against her moral code in this atmospheric seaside drama.“God’s Creatures,” a sparing, atmospheric drama, opens underwater. We see a burst of bubbles and hear a muffled bellow. Then the image cuts to the ocean surface, where gentle wavelets belie the turbulence below.The same might be said of the insular Irish fishing village where the movie takes place. Though the story begins with a drowning, the parochial residents of the region retain high spirits, whether carousing at the townie bar, harvesting oysters for sale or relishing the angelic warbling of Sarah (Aisling Franciosi), a local songstress. Yet a baleful score and slow, forbidding shots of the landscape suggest that evil lurks nearby.The film centers on Aileen (Emily Watson), an affectionate mother and factory worker — she toils on an assembly line alongside Sarah — whose prodigal son, Brian (Paul Mescal), moves home unexpectedly after many years abroad. Aileen is delighted about the return of her golden child, until a devastating crime leaves her unsure of whether she really knows him at all.The directors, Saela Davis and Anna Rose Holmer (“The Fits”), are skilled engineers of apprehension. As news of the offense spreads through the town, a chasm opens between Aileen and Sarah, and the filmmakers shepherd us down its center with a series of sinister sounds and images. Every maritime mundanity — the clack-clack-clack of oysters dropping into a bucket, say — pulses with pain or menace.“God’s Creatures” is ultimately a movie about the collision between a mother’s fidelity and her moral conscience, and Watson is terrific at telegraphing how these instincts grind against each other to terrifying ends. Even in a simple story line that sometimes wants for psychological clarity, the power she wields is undeniable.God’s CreaturesRated R. It has the mouth of a sailor. Running time: 1 hour 34 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Apple TV, Google Play and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More

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    ‘Argentina, 1985’ Review: All the Prosecutor’s Men

    Santiago Mitre’s impassioned dramatization of the Trial of the Juntas benefits from a gentle evocation of collective memory.Like a pair of old wingtips polished with wax, “Argentina, 1985” spins a notable piece of history into an impassioned courtroom drama flecked with quaint humor. The movie centers on the Trial of the Juntas, a milestone Argentine case in which a civilian court tried former military leaders for brutal crimes committed while the country was under a right-wing dictatorship.The director, Santiago Mitre, finds a flinty protagonist in the chief prosecutor, Julio Strassera, who assumed the role during the early days of Argentina’s precarious reinstalled democracy. Mitre sketches Strassera (Ricardo Darín) as a scoffing sourpuss whose fidelity to his work strains against an enduring mistrust of others. He softens in domestic scenes, where the genial presence of his wife and two children uncover both the dangerous stakes of the case — the family receives death threats — and Strassera’s caring side.Unspooling patiently, the film makes frequent use of a montage effect to abridge months of historical detail, layering brief moments, reenacted archival footage (shot with the pneumatic cameras and lenses of the period) and original television coverage to paint a sprawling picture of Strassera and his team’s efforts. Mitre sometimes spotlights a single story within these composite sequences; for instance, one woman’s distressing account of giving birth while captive bookends a collage of court testimonies. (More than 800 witnesses testified in the actual trial.)These stylings evoke a gentle sense of collective memory that compensates for the film’s more grandiose moments, including Strassera’s overwrought final address. Cinema prizes a good man making history, but this story’s heroes are manifold.Argentina, 1985Rated R for political thrills. In Spanish, with subtitles. Running time: 2 hours 20 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘Hocus Pocus 2’ Review: Still Spelling Trouble

    The Sanderson sisters return, bringing the same spooky humor with some modern twists.Disney’s “Hocus Pocus” is one of the company’s few true cult classics; after an initial negative reception when it was released in 1993, the Halloween-themed comedy starring Bette Midler, Kathy Najimy and Sarah Jessica Parker as a trio of campy witch sisters gained a fan base through seasonal VHS rentals and repeated airings on ABC and the Disney Channel. And while its new sequel, “Hocus Pocus 2,” may be a blatant attempt by Disney to continue propping up its streaming platform Disney+ (where the movie has its debut), it manages to capture the same hokey magic of the original while creatively updating its humor.In a slight retread of the first film’s plot, “Hocus Pocus 2” follows two present-day Salem teenagers, Becca and Izzy (Whitney Peak and Belissa Escobedo), who accidentally bring the witchy Sanderson sisters back to life while performing their yearly Halloween night ritual. (The teens’ interest in witchcraft and the occult is benign, a very 2022 detail that might not have come across the same way 30 years ago.) High jinks ensue as the girls race to stop the witches from kidnapping the town’s genial mayor (Tony Hale) and casting an immortality spell that would make them all-powerful, while also making amends with their former friend, the mayor’s daughter, Cassie (Lilia Buckingham).Anne Fletcher (“Step Up,” “The Proposal”) directs this sequel, but follows the same goofy comedic approach of the Kenny Ortega-directed first film — namely, how the sisters react to modern inventions like robot vacuums, Amazon’s Alexa and Walgreens. Even a few meta-jokes nod to the Sanderson sisters’ popularity in the world of drag. Thankfully, with a cast rounded out by Doug Jones, Hannah Waddingham and Sam Richardson, the brew-haha’s aren’t solely concentrated in the three leads.Hocus Pocus 2Rated PG. Running time: 1 hour 43 minutes. Watch on Disney+. More

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    ‘Mona Lisa and the Blood Moon’ Review: Escape From New Orleans

    This hyper-stylized quasi-superhero movie by Ana Lily Amirpour follows a mental hospital patient with supernatural abilities; it looks a lot more fun than it actually is.“Mona Lisa and the Blood Moon,” the third feature by the writer-director Ana Lily Amirpour (“A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night”), is a quasi-superhero movie that feels in step with something like “The Suicide Squad” or “Birds of Prey.”It, too, lays hard on the confetti-colored visuals and slick violence. And its lead, Mona Lisa (Jong-seo Jun), a mental hospital patient with telekinetic abilities, is only a hero insofar as we’re rooting for her to come out on top.Having broken out of the asylum, her mangled straitjacket mistaken for a fashion statement, Mona Lisa meets the clever stripper-single mother Bonnie (Kate Hudson), whom she saves from an unceremonious beat down. Blank-eyed and completely out of touch with the ways of the world, Mona Lisa is a mostly-silent, Edward Scissorhands-like character who might be mistaken for an innocent were she not also a literal puppet master able to control people’s bodies with her mind.Bonnie takes advantage of her new pal, directing the directionless Mona Lisa to force strangers into making sizable A.T.M. withdrawals. Naturally, there’s also a determined cop (Craig Robinson) on their tail, with the stakes of the manhunt heightened by an unconvincingly adorable friendship between Mona Lisa and Bonnie’s son, Charlie (Evan Whitten).The setting, a violet-drenched New Orleans, takes on the sweaty haze of a 3 a.m.-nightclub, but for all its glowing hyper-stylization and giddy needle drops, “Mona Lisa” only ever manages to tread shallow waters. Its comedy lands flat and its moments of emotional catharsis (when, for instance, Mona Lisa scares off Charlie’s egg-tossing bullies, or Charlie clashes with his neglectful mother over her exploitation of Mona Lisa) feel perfunctory. The movie, more often than not, has the look and feel of an edgy music video, which wouldn’t necessarily be a problem if it weren’t also oddly boring.Mona Lisa and the Blood MoonRated R for bloody self-inflicted violence and street assault. Running time: 1 hour 46 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Apple TV, Google Play and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More

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    ‘What We Leave Behind’ Review: A Father’s Final Project

    At 89, Julián Moreno began building a home in Mexico for his children who had immigrated to the U.S. His granddaughter made the poignant documentary “What We Leave Behind.”When Iliana Sosa’s grandfather Julián Moreno turned 89, he stopped making trips from Mexico to El Paso, Texas, where Sosa’s mother lives. In her documentary “What We Leave Behind,” his granddaughter follows Moreno to his home in the Mexican state of Durango and watches as he undertakes one last project: building a house next to his own that his children who migrated to the U.S. might return to.With an approach that is more elegiac than sociological, the director signals the passage of nearly seven years with the progress of the new building and the evidence of Moreno’s decline. He shovels a bit. He fries an egg that begins sunny side up but ends scrambled. He carries a plank, annoyed that he can’t carry two. A quad cane appears.Eschewing the politics of policy, “What We Leave Behind” honors the poetics of a life: Moreno’s memories of his long-dead wife; his affection for the land; his fealty to his son Jorge, who is legally blind and lives with him; but also his belief in hard work. His face holds traces of the handsome young man pictured on the ID card he used as a bracero — an agricultural worker issued a temporary work permit to come to the United States after World War II.Compositionally calm but never static, the documentary trusts in motes of beauty: a dog lapping water out of a mop bucket; Jorge’s green bristled broom poised above a courtyard floor as he listens; a once-sturdy man lying in bed, his family surrounding him. “What We Leave Behind” insists upon power in stillness, and the poignancy in staying — and leaving.What We Leave BehindNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 11 minutes. In theaters and on Netflix. More

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    ‘InHospitable’ Review: Fight for Survival

    Patients push back on a medical behemoth in this persuasive health care documentary.“InHospitable” is a decent advocacy documentary that compellingly argues a couple of points that aren’t easy to make compelling onscreen. One is that supposedly nonprofit hospitals often behave more like for-profit hospitals and don’t provide benefits commensurate with the tax breaks they receive. Another is that hospital mergers and anticompetitive practices tend to increase costs for patients.The movie, directed by Sandra Alvarez, focuses on a surge of activism in Pittsburgh, where, in mid-2019, a pair of consent decrees agreed to by two medical bodies, the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center (or U.P.M.C.) and Highmark, were set to expire. Both organizations were insurers and providers rolled into one, as well as competitors. The agreement ensured that U.P.M.C. would remain in-network for Highmark subscribers for certain care.The bad guy, in the film’s telling, is U.P.M.C., which is described as Pennsylvania’s largest employer and portrayed as having enormous political power. If the agreement expired, many Highmark patients would in effect have to switch insurers, pay higher costs or find new doctors elsewhere.“InHospitable” spends time with subjects like Vicki and Maurice Arnett, who travel to Atlanta to obtain covered cancer treatment for Maurice rather than risk a disruption in his care, and Evie Bodick, who is frustrated with having to leave her doctors at U.P.M.C. and find five new specialists.How this dispute was resolved three years ago — and even an early-pandemic coda from 2020 — is old news at this point. But Alvarez showcases a handful of experts, including health care economists and the former New York Times reporter Elisabeth Rosenthal, who cogently explain how the principles apply nationally.InHospitableNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 42 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Apple TV, Google Play and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More

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    ‘I Didn’t See You There’ Review: A View From His Seat

    The filmmaker Reid Davenport, by turns pensive and irritated, takes viewers inside his life as a disabled person through footage shot entirely from his perspective.In the personal essay film “I Didn’t See You There” the filmmaker, Reid Davenport, makes an extended attempt to fully embody his point of view with the help of kinetic camerawork. As an artist with a disability, Davenport navigates the world in a wheelchair, with verve and little patience for the obstacles others can pose, both physical and ideological.His trips around Oakland, Calif., and across the country to visit his caring family in Connecticut lead him to reflect on “being looked at and not seen,” as he puts it, as well as on the labor of just going about his business in a world that doesn’t always have his needs in mind. His occasional meditations in voice-over are punctuated by pointed encounters with strangers, from flight attendants to an impressed neighbor, and an energizing percussive soundtrack.Davenport also dwells on dazzling views of the patterned surfaces — such as colorful pavements and walls — that he rolls past. These suggest a heightened attention to potential hazards, but they also evoke the joyous run-on reels of avant-garde diarists like the filmmaker Jonas Mekas.Davenport’s circumstances are different, of course. His mobility is often dependent on others, and he keeps the camera off himself, in contrast with the many dramas that turn people with disabilities into passive subjects. When he encounters a circus big top that has been erected in his neighborhood, he laments its galling presence and its associated history of freak shows.With his feature, Davenport stakes out his own vantage point on the world, one that leaves a viewer wishing to hear his thoughts elaborated even further.I Didn’t See You ThereNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 16 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘From the Hood to the Holler’ Review: A Race to Galvanize the Poor

    A new documentary revisits the former Kentucky state representative Charles Booker’s 2020 campaign to unseat Mitch McConnell in the Senate.At a hearing in 2019 for a vote on a bill that would restrict abortion access in Kentucky, Charles Booker, a state representative at the time, gave an impassioned speech about abortion rights, criticizing politicians who had compared the medical procedure to lynching. When the speaker of the Assembly tried to silence him, Booker yelled, “My life matters, too, speaker,” as an older white man screamed at him to “sit down.”“I can only imagine that in this white person’s mind, he thought he had the right to tell this Black person to sit down,” Attica Scott, another state representative from Kentucky, says later.The exchange plays out in the new documentary “From the Hood to the Holler,” directed by Pat McGee. It follows Booker’s subsequent run for Senate in 2020, including a campaign defined by his willingness to walk across that racial divide, traveling to “hollers,” or poor, mostly white communities in Appalachia, to unite impoverished voters. Booker lost narrowly in a Democratic primary against Amy McGrath; some weeks before the election, the documentary notes, he had raised around $300,000 compared to her $29.8 million. (In May, Booker won the primary by a landslide, and he’ll face off against the Republican senator Rand Paul in November.)The documentary succeeds at presenting Booker as a candidate who can unite voters, and its best scenes show him meeting the moment. In one scene, he mediates between the police and protesters after the death of Breonna Taylor, whom he knew, convincing the officers to drop their batons in a show of solidarity. In another, he strategizes with his team about safety procedures for traveling through places that may have once been considered sundown towns, showing how racism persists in modern-day Kentucky and the nation.But though Booker’s story and success are inspiring, the documentary falls flat, feeling more like a political tool than a commentary on the state of politics in Kentucky. It would have benefited from less focus on Booker and more on the many Kentuckians he spoke to who are ready for a change.From the Hood to the HollerNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 42 minutes. In theaters and available to rent or buy on Apple TV, Google Play and other streaming platforms and pay TV operators. More