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Imagine a movie akin to a sad David Bowie song about an astronaut drifting alone into the dark abyss of space, contemplating his life, his lost love, his past, and an uncertain, perhaps soon-to-be-shortly doomed future. Sing the wistfully estranged and reflective “Space Odyssey” tune and the lamenting iconic line, “Tell my wife I love her very much, she knows!” That’s Swedish filmmaker Johan Renck’s “Spaceman” in a nutshell, which makes for possibly the weirdest, most existentially lonely movie Adam Sandler has ever starred in.

Sal (Gael García Bernal) exists in a limbo — not the religious notion of a space between life and death, but a nonspace. He lives in a large apartment but appears to have no job or vocation.

Something eerie is afoot in the small Irish town of Wexford, where coal merchant Bill Furlong (Cillian Murphy) raises five young daughters alongside his wife, Eileen (Eileen Walsh). It’s Christmastime 1985, the busiest time of the year for the Furlong family business, but Bill is not feeling like himself.

Labyrinthine corridors connect the sprawling worlds within The Grill, a traditional eatery by the hustle and bustle of Times Square in “La Cocina.” Open one door, and you are in the kitchen, a boiler room of rage and frustration tamed only by the often frail bonds of camaraderie; turn a corner, and you’re spat straight onto the busy restaurant floor, where waitresses in matching outfits move like a ballet between tables occupied with birthday boys and men as foreign to politeness as hawks are to the sea.

At certain times in Emily Atef’s eponymous adaptation of Daniela Krien’s novel “Someday We’ll Tell Each Other Everything,” all one can hear is the irregular breathing of Maria (Marlene Burow). The molecules of oxygen leave the sprawling fields of rural Germany and hastily make their way through the young girl’s lungs, the surge of adrenaline in her bloodstream directly increasing the frequency of respiration.

The films of Jennifer Reeder have an unmistakable vibe. Her acclaimed short films, including “All Small Bodies” and “Crystal Lake,” have been shown on The Criterion Channel, and her feature film “Knives and Skin” has been shown at Berlin and Tribeca.  READ MORE: ‘Inside’ Review: Vasilis Katsoupis’ Heist Thriller With Willem Dafoe Is Formulaic Yet Never Dull [Berlin] Reeder’s films, which have been described as the meeting point between David Lynch and John Hughes, share little in terms of plot, but all bear an unmistakable eeriness, an otherworldliness that could only be Reeder.

With her feature debut, “The Chambermaid,” Mexican writer-director Lila Avilés materialized a graceful character study of a hardworking mother. Though enriched via the meaningful interjections of its supporting players, the narrative had a singular focus.

The audiences at Berlin International Film Festival tend to be respectful and engaged.

Based on the synopsis alone, one would think John Trengove’s “Manodrome” to have two feet in satire: Jesse Eisenberg is Ralphie, a father-to-be lulled into a libertarian masculinity cult led by Adrien Brody. It is odd, then, to see the South African director mindlessly bypass the clever beats of parody in favor of a dreary mishmash of classics such as Martin Scorsese’s “Taxi Driver” and David Fincher’s “The Fight Club.” With a kid on the way, losing his job was not on Ralphie’s plans.

Like so many young performers, Sydney Sweeney proved that she was a star before she could get the chance to prove that she was a well-rounded actor. Her name-making gigs as a vindictive, canonically gorgeous high schooler on TV’s “Euphoria,” a vindictive, canonically gorgeous college sophomore on “The White Lotus,” and a vindictive, canonically gorgeous recent grad in the “The Voyeurs” all required her to channel an innate charisma toward variations on a broadly consistent type, her abilities yet to be stretched far enough to chart their full potential.

With an admirable cohesiveness, Mexican-Salvadoran director Tatiana Huezo (“Prayers for the Stolen”) has curated a body of work that often returns to familiar questions, subjects, and even precise images of evolving girlhood and untarnished nature. The filmmaker’s most fixed preoccupation is the spaces women carve for themselves and each other in communities where their safety, needs, and aspirations often suffer the tacitly violent tactics of patriarchal social norms.  Back to her documentary roots, Huezo follows her acclaimed fiction debut, “Prayers for the Stolen” (“Noche de Fuego”), with another multigenerational saga of mothers and daughters in a remote locale.

There is a particular kind of audacity reserved for the wealthy and the well-meaning. Multi-award-winning actor and humanitarian Sean Penn co-directs “Superpower” with Aaron Kaufman, known mostly for his commercial work and his collaboration with writer-director Robert Rodriguez.

To this day, I am traumatized by the notion I could have killed my little brother. Six years younger, we had an age difference primed to maximize annoyance, his constant nagging the spark for my first foray with untethered fury.

Fifty years ago, the sci-fi thriller “Soylent Green” warned viewers of a distant future—the year 2022—where environmental catastrophe and over-population would cause such dire resource scarcity that the bodies of those who ended their lives voluntarily and with the government’s assistance were transformed into edible wafers to feed the masses. In “White Plastic Sky,” a heady dystopian animated feature from Hungary, directors Tibor Bánóczki and Sarolta Szabó depart from nearly the exact same premise, a reality a century from now where crops and animals no longer exist, but the solution to ensure humanity’s survival is no longer a matter of personal agency but of mandated duty for all citizens.

Resembling more of a personal tribute than exhaustive biography, Pietro Marcello‘s Lucio Dalla documentary, “For Lucio,” takes its title as an invitation. A rambling eulogy that is just as often confusing as it is profound, Marcello’s wisp of a film (running less than 80 minutes) may be missing key context for those not already versed in the life and music of the politically-oriented Italian singer-songwriter.

Many of Hong Sang-soo’s films are structured around a woman’s solitary wanderings. The single ladies played by Kim Min-Hee in “On the Beach at Night Alone” or “The Woman Who Ran,” or Lee Hye-Young in “In Front of Your Face,” are free radicals, moving from encounter to encounter and disrupting the equilibrium of the people they meet, as meandering conversations reveal a friend’s dissatisfaction or a couple’s disagreement.

It sounds like the set-up to a French New Wave film: a French au pair falls in love with an Irish pickpocket leading to a whirlwind romance that changes both their lives. It might be twee, but Joan Verra (Isabelle Huppert) lived it, and on a long, rainy, nighttime drive reflects on the intense, yet fleeting relationship of her youth.

Sat in front of a computer, musician Nick Cave reads a few questions aloud. These are deeply existential musings sent in by people he has never met.

The streets outside her window are dripping with hope, and yet Élisabeth (Charlotte Gainsbourg) is lost. It is Paris, 1981, a new president has been elected, and Élisabeth’s husband has left, claiming the thrillingness of motion by moving in with a new girlfriend while his ex is left with the stagnance of remaining, the apartment where they’ve raised their children, Judith (Megan Northam) and Matthias (Quito Rayon-Richter), at once comfortingly familiar and dreadfully new.

Of all the unsolved mysteries in Claire Denis‘ new Berlin Competition film, the biggest may just be its U.S. retitling to a generic and not particularly representative “Fire.” The film’s English title in the rest of the world, “Both Sides of the Blade” — a line from the terrific Tindersticks track that ends the film —is not just cooler and more compelling.

Demystifying and questioning the very notion of authenticity, Jason Kohn’s informative and oddly riveting, diamond-documentary “Nothing Lasts Forever” is ostensibly about the oft-antagonistic relationship between natural and synthetic diamonds. Yet, diamonds are an in-road as Kohn explores the commodification of such abstractions as love and desire, questioning how exactly a shiny rock — one that isn’t even that rare — became a physical manifestation of commitment.

Berlinale FIPRESCI winner “What Do We See When We Look At The Sky?” received rave reviews at the Berlin Film Festival earlier this year. Now, the enchanting sophomore feature from Georgian director Alexandre Koberidze is about to make its North American premiere at the New York Film Festival next week, followed by a MUBI premiere in November.

Filmed in glossy black and white, and adopting a non-judgmental vérité approach, director Carlos Alfonso Corral’s debut is a humanizing look at a small section of the homeless population in El Paso, Texas. “Dirty Feathers,” is a short, but thematically rich, film about those on the margins of society.

It’s 1943. A particularly cruel winter has swept through the occupied Soviet Union.

One year in the life of a teenager can feel like an eternity. The intensity of the fleeting romances, the wild swings between happiness and despair, the thrilling yet uneasy anticipation of a future that seems simultaneously imminent and distant — it’s a wonder that we come out of adolescence intact.

The first thing to understand about the social dynamics in Mexico around police is that they differ greatly from how the public in the United States relates to law enforcement officers. Stateside, both the uncritical reverence some feel toward them—namely the Blue Lives Matter crowd—and the terror they incite among BIPOC communities emanate from their violent efficaciousness and status as inflexible figures reveling in a lack of accountability.

As industry guests enjoy the Berlinale from home this year, eagle-eyed viewers will take pleasure in spotting a familiar location in the latest film from South Korean auteur and festival-regular Hong Sang-soo. If we can’t stroll around Potsdamer Platz this year, at least the characters in “Introduction“ can share a moment there.

The latest from T.J.Martin and Daniel Lindsay, directors of “Undefeated” and “LA 92,” “TINA” looks like another documentary that came off of a factory line, complete with the usual panning shots of contact sheets, dramatic zooms into rolling tapes, cross-cutting between audio interviews and their published print versions, melodramatic score cues doing their best to emulate Philip Glass.

There is an unavoidable distance in life between ourselves and those who came before. Parents, grandparents; no matter how open and honest they are with their children or younger relatives, there is a sense that their pasts remain partial enigmas.

New films by Celine Sciamma, Hong Sangsoo, Xavier Beauvois, Radu Jude, and the directorial debut of German actor Daniel Brühl were unveiled as part of the 15 competition titles at the 2021 Berlin Film Festival today. READ MORE: The 100 Most Anticipated Films Of 2021 The festival’s 71st edition will take place in two stages.

What was reported earlier this week has come true—the 2021 Berlin Film Festival is going virtual in March with a (planned) in-person “celebration” in June. This hybrid strategy is something that differentiates it from the upcoming Sundance Film Festival and this year’s TIFF and Venice festivals.

As we start to look past the nightmare that has been 2020 and look forward to a (slightly) more hopeful 2021, we’ll start hearing of the winter film festivals’ plans soon. First, it was Sundance announcing plans for a shorter edition of the festival, still taking place in person.

The past few months have provided some genuine riches from women directors. Autumn de Wilde’s Emma just made it into cinemas before they closed their doors and the end of last month saw the digital release of Kitty Green’s highly praised The Assistant. Eliza Hittman’s powerful Never Rarely Sometimes Always is the latest on the list and destined to have a similar impact.

Korean-made war film “Battle of Jangsari,” which features Megan Fox in a key role as a front line reporter, is set to play in multiple European and Asian territories.

Farce is not a genre we commonly associate with the Germans, but then, as “Curveball” reminds us at the outset, this wildly atypical Teutonic satire — which plays like a cross between “Wag the Dog” and “Dr. Strangelove” in its portrayal of incompetence at the highest levels — is “A true story.

In Dubrovnik, as everywhere, the wealthy do not live near the airport — so much noise, so much traffic, so many planes overhead stealing sections of cloudless blue sky.