After the Rain: Putin’s Stolen Children Come Home

Putin uses Russia’s youth as cannon fodder, so it should hardly surprise anyone that he treats Ukrainian children as pawns and spoils of war. Over 200,000 Ukrainian juveniles have been abducted into Russia. So far, only a fraction have been recovered. Not shockingly, those who return suffer from considerable trauma. Understanding the need for counseling, as well as a break from the constant Russian shelling, a lake-front animal therapy clinic in Latvia offers healing retreats to rescued Ukrainian children and a parent-guardian. There will be no panaceas, but at least they get a break from the war and start the healing process, as Sarah McCarthy documents in After the Rain: Putin’s Stolen Children Come Home, which starts streaming today on IndiePix Unlimited.

Putin and his Wagner lackeys probably wouldn’t give a working-class Ukrainian fellow like Yvgeny a second look. Likewise, they would likely scoff at a simple Grandma like Vera. Yet, they both ventured into Russia to bring home his daughter Sasha (and Sasha’s siblings) and her daughter Veronika. It was especially dangerous for Yvgeny, because he had been held for over a month in a civilian prison camp, but it was a choice most parents surely understand.

Few abducted children could simply shrug off the experience. That is especially true for Sasha and Veronika, so they have been invited to the retreat. There will be swimming and hiking, but the real attractions are the therapy horses and the therapy dogs. The latter are pretty darn charming and eternally patient.

Nobody thinks the kids will be all better by the time they leave (except maybe regular viewers of daytime talk shows). However, the staff seems to make some progress. They have been through these sorts of sessions before, yet they seem surprised by how deeply their latest cases affect them on an emotional level.

Sylvain Chomet’s A Magnificent Life

It isn’t easy being a national treasure, especially if you’re France’s national treasure. For Marcel Pagnol, that meant being in the public eye during the National Socialist occupation and the post-War malaise. However, his working-class Marseilles roots largely kept him grounded. Reluctantly, Pagnol takes stock of his life and career, with the help of some ghosts from his past (including the spirit of his younger self) in director-screenwriter Sylvain Chomet’s animated film A Magnificent Life, which opens tomorrow in New York.

Thanks to Matthew Gravelle’s rich, Richard Burton-esque Welsh voice in the English dubbing, American viewers cannot appreciate Pagnol’s Marseilles accent. Evidently, the Southern dialect could be rather baffling for 1920s Parisians. That is why his early plays written in dialect were such a risk. Yet, they were surprise hits, establishing the fame of Pagnol and his featured actor, Raimu (who developed a persona as sort of a Marseilles Archie Bunker). Years later, Daniel Auteuil remade three of Pagnol’s Marseilles plays, The Well-Digger’s Daughter, Maurius, and Fanny, which all had American distribution.

Contracted to write a serialized memoir, the blocked Pagnol claims to remember little of his life, particularly his early years. However, the manifestation of childhood-self starts to pull the memories out of him. His eventual literary success represents the fulfillment of promises made to himself and his beloved mother, who tragically died during his childhood. She too often looks down on Pagnol, like a guardian angel.

The ghosts of Pagnols-past will have much to watch over. As a playwright, he enjoys great successes, as well as a few bombs. However, he shows the vision most of his theatrical colleagues lack, by embracing cinema just as sound and other technological advances were allowing a more robust dramatic experience. Rather slyly, Chomet frequently incorporates archival film clips within his animation (yet, these too, alas, were also dubbed for the theatrical release).

Chomet does not quite convey the magnitude of Pagnol’s status as an early movie mogul—one who vertically controlled the cinema process from studio to theater, even including the labs that developed the film stock. However, he partially explains how Pagnol sandbagged his own business during the occupation era, which allowed him to sell out to Gaumont rather than surrendering his company to the Vichy authorities. Yet, he still faced collaborationist charges, which were ultimately dropped. Chomet addresses these controversies, but in a rather rushed manner that clearly glosses over considerable drama and angst.

Heroes, on Viaplay

These three characters would be sufficiently absurd for a Samuel Beckett play, were it not for their grouchy attitudes. Considering how difficult these old veterans are in their dotage, imagine what they were like during the unspecified war. They don’t do much, but they sure talk a lot about it in director-screenwriter Kirill Bin’s Heroes, a Ukrainian film based on Tom Stoppard’s English translation of Gerald Sibleyras’s French play, The Wind in the Poplars, which premieres today on Viaplay.

Considering the game of telephone Sibleyras’s original play went through, it is entirely possible that much was lost, or mysteriously “found” in the translation processes. On the other hand, it is not a particularly complex play. Three elderly veterans sit and kvetch in their favorite gazebo, talking perverse comfort in their shared anti-social misanthropy.

Gustav is probably the most crotchety and sarcastic. Fernand is the youngest, but often falls victim to fainting spells. He also holds fast to the irrational fear that the head nun is out to kill him, in hopes of freeing up his birthdate for a new resident. Of the trio, Rene might be the most rational, but he is an instigator and a bit of a romantic, in unhealthy ways.

There is also a stone statue of a dog, which Gustav considers the best company in the entire retirement home—and perhaps justifiably so. Indeed, it takes a bit of acclimating to the tone and rhythm of Heroes. The cranky trio are a lot and they have no on/off switch.

If you wanted a Grumpy Old Men sequel with more existential angst, than Heroes is the answer to your prayers. Admittedly, the three principal cast-members are amusing, particularly Aleksey Vertinskiy as gleefully sardonic Gustav. Nevertheless, a little of this film goes a long way. Honestly, if you finish it in three sittings or less, then you’ll have me beat.

Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Chime

Those noises in your head can really do a number on your sanity. Just ask the narrator of Poe’s “A Tell-Tale Heart.” However, it is not clear whether Takuji Matsuoka truly hears them. Regardless, it seems that he “contracted” the insanity of someone who did in director-screenwriter Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s 45-minute short-ish film, Chime, which opens this Friday together with Kurosawa’s classic The Serpent’s Path (the original, not Kurosawa’s recent remake).

Matsuoka works as continuing ed. culinary instructor, but he clearly yearns to return to the kitchen as a head chef.  He is not a great teacher, but to be fair, most educators would struggle with a weirdo like Ichiro Tashiro. When Tashiro complains about hearing chimes inaudible to the rest of the class, Matsuoka tries to ignore him. However, he can’t ignore what comes next.

Does Matsuoka inherit his craziness, or did he always have it? Did Tashiro’s horror show simply provide a catalyst for releasing it? Kurosawa clearly wants to keep the answers to such questions ambiguous, perhaps even unknowable. Regardless, Matsuoka takes a sinister turn that even surpasses Tashiro.

Arguably, Chime feels like Kurosawa, the horror master, taking a stab at more subtle and slippery “elevated” “post-horror.” There are shocking moments, but Kurosawa too coyly toys with the horror elements to sustain much tension.

As Matsuoka, Mutsuo Yoshioka’s performance is defined by an utter soullessness, even before his apparent insanity kicks in. Yet, Seiichi Kohinata is more disturbing as Tashiro, due to his twitchy, awkward sadness.

The WASPs: Taking Flight, the Nadine Ramsey Story

Most people think Kansas is just one big wheat field, but in the early 20^th Century, it was also known for its extensive oil fields. Due to its oil tycoons and infamously flat landscape, Kansas also became the center of American aviation. At a time when most average people never even considered air travel, a lot of average Kansans were able to take flying lesson, including women like Nadine Ramsey. When war ignited, Ramsey and her fellow women pilots had skills America needed, but their country wasn’t ready to fully accept them. Matthew Hausle profiles Ramsey and her achievements as one of the most prominent members of the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASPs) in The WASPs: Taking Flight, The Nadine Ramsey Story, narrated by Jacqueline Bisset, which releases tomorrow on VOD.

For a film a few seconds shy of 70 minutes, The WASPS: Taking Flight manages to cover a whole lot of material that people really ought to know more about. In addition to chronicling Nadine Ramsey’s life, Hausle devotes nearly equal time to her brother Edwin, an Army officer, who became one of the guerrilla warriors most wanted by the Imperial Japanese in the occupied Philippines.

Given his uncertain status throughout most of the war, it is understandable why Nadine Ramsey might feel particularly motivated to assist the war effort. The Army Air Force needed both pilots and planes, but the factories were churning out the latter quicker than the Army could train the former. Although combat roles for women was a non-starter during that era, WASPs were reluctantly allowed to fly new planes from their factories, to rally points for overseas deployment. These were by and large solo flights, through all kinds of rough weather, over all sorts of terrain.

Frankly, the Japanese and Germans were lucky they never had to face a former stunt pilot like Ramsey. She originally learned barnstorming techniques, because she was inspired by Amelia Earhart’s example (admittedly, there is a bit of irony to that point, which was apparently lost on Hausle and his talking heads).

Marshals: The Gathering Storm

Now that he is a U.S. Marshal, Kayce Dutton gets to risk his life in new and different ways, while all his family’s old enemies still have it out for him. In this episode, Dutton and Calvin head up into the mountains, looking for a crashed helicopter, but his job might be gone by the time he gets back in “The Gathering Storm,” the latest episode of creator Stephen Hudnut’s Marshals, which premieres tonight on CBS.

The Cleggs weren’t big enough to even register in Yellowstone, but they are still standing and still hold a grudge. Randall Clegg’s two dumb sons turned outlaw in a previous episode, forcing Dutton to shoot one of them dead, to save fellow Marshal Miles Kittle. Unfortunately, the late Clegg’s firearm was not recovered, so now the Cleggs are filing civil rights charges against Dutton and the local cop-hating lawyer is only too happy to help. The Marshals’ politically appointed boss, Harry Gifford also wants to capitalize on the complaint to prosecute his own grudge against the Duttons, so he orders Deputy Marshal Cruz to find the dirt to bring down her fellow Marshal.

While Cruz reluctantly builds a case against Dutton, including a shameful strategy of using Navy SEALs’ reputation for PTSD as a talking point, Dutton and fellow SEAL follow the fuel trail to Tom Weaver’s crash site. Initially, Dutton’s attitude towards the imperiled former Wall Street titan is quite caustic, because he assumes the rich man is a lot like his father. However, once they reach the stranded gentleman rancher, Dutton starts to understand Weaver’s paternal relationship was a lot like his own. In fact, the Weavers might possibly become allies, if Dutton and Calvin survive the grizzly bear and other assorted dangers they encounter in the Montana wilderness.

“The Gathering Storm” might be the best Marshals episode to date, because it clearly portrays the methods lawyers and politicians use to harass and demoralize law enforcement officers. This episode’s campaign against Dutton is dishonorable, but typical and very true to real-life.

Project Hail Mary, in Cinema Daily US

PROJECT HAIL MARY successfully marries the hard science fiction of Arthur C. Clarke with an alien buddy movie. It is the kind of original genre filmmaking that can rekindle interest in sf. CINEMA DAILY US review up here.

The Count of Monte Cristo, on PBS

Many people say living well is the best revenge. Edmond Dantes is not one of them. That is too bad for him, because he could live quite nicely on his newfound fortune. It is also too bad for the three French rats who did him dirty. Dantes will have his revenge, served as cold as possible. Unlike the recent French film, series director Billie August and adaptation co-writers Sandro Petraglia & Greg Latter lean more into the novel’s tragedy than its swashbuckling throughout the eight episodes of the new The Count of Monte Cristo, which premieres tomorrow night on PBS.

Dantes is blessed with a beautiful fiancée, Mercedes Herrera, and a supporting boss, Pierre Morel, the owner of his merchant vessel. Unfortunately, he is also cursed with two scummy rivals. Fernand Mondego, the future Count de Morcerf, covets Herrera’s hand in marriage, while Danglars resents Morel promoting Dantes above him. Out of spite, they falsely denounce Dantes as a Bonapartist agent. Initially, the local prosecutor, Gerard Villefort sees through their deception. However, he consigns innocent Dantes to the notorious Chateau d’If prison to coverup his late captain’s involvement Villefort’s Bonapartist father.

During his fifteen years of confinement, Dantes is erroneously reported dead to the outside world. Subsequently, Herrera reluctantly marries Mondego, who ascends to the French senate after a checkered military career. Danglars also finds wealth and a title in Parisian finance, while Villefort becomes one of the top national prosecutors.

Dantes also stays busy, befriending the heretical Abbe Faria, who schools the sailor on all the social graces a proper gentleman should know, as they painstakingly prepare their escape. He also informs Dantes of the location of a fabulous cache of secret treasure hidden on the uninhabited isle of Monte Cristo.

Petraglia and Latter follow Dumas reasonably closely, but their adaptation takes explicit inspiration from the Chinese proverb: “those who seek revenge, should first dig two graves.” In fact, they paraphrase it on multiple occasions. Not surprisingly, that gives this Monte Cristo a distinctly dark hue.

Unlike Pierre Niney in the recent French film, Sam Claflin never crosses swords with any of his sworn enemies. However, he broods harder than a diamond. Weirdly, the tall, bearded Claflin also bears an ironically distracting resemblance to Joel McHale. However, the facial hair helps explain why nobody recognizes Dantes, at least to an extent.

Regardless, you have to respect the sheer seething bile Claflin projects throughout the series. Michele Riondino and Lino Guanciale are also both roguishly charismatic as Dantes’ allies, Jacopo the fisherman and Vampa, the former bandit. Plus, the great Jeremy Irons perfectly personifies the Abbe’s learned fatalism.

Mr. Burton: Becoming Richard Burton

He was one of the original “angry young men” of “Kitchen Sink Realism” and one of the finest Shakespearean actors of his generation, despite being Welsh. According to Elizabeth Taylor, he owed it all to his teacher, Philip Burton. The thespian’s relationship to his spiritual—and eventually adopted father is dramatized in Marc Evans’ Mr. Burton, which releases today on VOD.

Rich Jenkins’ birth father was an alcoholic miner, who pawned the bright teen off on his older, married sister, Cis. Her husband demanded the future Burton work for his keep, so he was forced to drop out of school. However, Philip Burton convinced the family to allow the lad to re-enroll. He also cast Jenkins in his first amateur theatrical production. As you might expect, the kid showed some promise.

Consequently, Jenkins decided he wished to pursue acting so he turned to Burton for help. His mentor coached him in elocution, projection, and taming that Welsh accent. However, it quickly became clear the theater gatekeepers would not allow admittance to a Jenkins, but a Burton might have a shot.

In many respects, Mr. Burton is a rather touching mentor-protégé story that takes on genuine Horatio Alger proportions. Harry Lawtey nicely captures the raw, working-class Jenkins, while suggesting hints of the acclaimed and scandalous Burton that he would become. Indeed, we see early indications of the drinking and smoking that would contribute to long-term health issues for Burton.

However, screenwriters Tom Bullough and Josh Hyams do Jenkins/Burton a massive disservice when they create a fictional rift between the Burtons, resulting from Richard’s supposed distrust of closeted Philip’s motives. The whole point of the film (which released last year in the UK) was to celebrate the Richard Burton centennial. Yet, it sullies the actor’s image, solely for the sake of identity politics. Their only brief period of estrangement actually occurred when Richard left his first wife Sybil (whom Philip adored), to marry Elizabeth Taylor. That was some real drama, but to include it in the film would require casting the roles of both wives.

Loznitsa’s Two Prosecutors

Ironically, guileless Kornyev is especially vulnerable to Stalin’s purges, precisely because he ardently believes in Communism and the virtue of the tyrannical General Secretary. That leaves him defenseless to those who better understand the Party’s true nature and what is necessary to survive it. Ill-advisedly, Kornyev goes straight to the top, reporting his suspicions of corruption to Procurator General Andrey Vyshinsky, the legal architect of Stalin’s Purges in director-screenwriter Sergei Lotznitsa’s Two Prosecutors, which opens tomorrow in New York.

Tired old Pegleg gets a relatively easy prison job—burning all the letters sent to Stalin, asking him to intervene in a loved one’s case, in the interests of “justice.” It turns out his blood-scrawled note is in there too. It presumably never reached Stalin, but somehow it found its way to Kornyev, a recently appointed provincial prosecutor (functioning somewhat like an investigating magistrate).

Kornyev insists on interviewing Stepniak, as the prisoner was still known, even though the prison officials think he is crazy for wasting his time. They put him through a Kafkaesque bureaucratic ringer, but eventually they relent. Convinced Stepniak has been unjustly prosecuted, Kornyev fears the local authorities are acting in concert to undermine confidence in the Soviet justice system, so he leaves for Moscow, intending to report his findings directly to Vyshinsky.

Frankly, Kornyev’s naivete is painful to behold. Watching him dig his own grave, deeper and deeper, is absolutely agonizing. Indeed, the greatest tragedy is his own faith in the Party. In most films, finding yourself several step ahead of the protagonist induces boredom, but in this case, it is utterly nerve-wracking waiting for the ironclad shoe to drop.

Two Prosecutors is an austerely Spartan film, partly because that is how life is under socialism, and partly because Loznitsa allows nothing to distract from Kornyev’s self-inflicted doom. The film only consists of a half-dozen scenes, but each one almost suffocates viewers with tension and absurdity.

Petzold’s Miroirs No. 3

Fortunately for Laura, Betty is no Annie Wilkes. She takes the reeling accident victim into her home, but she lets her leave anytime she wants (there will be no “hobbling” in this film). The dynamic is far from healthy, but it isn’t sinister. In fact, there might even be an outside chance for healing in director-screenwriter Christian Petzold’s Miroirs No. 3, which opens this Friday in New York.

The premise is conducive for an amnesia mystery. Some descriptive marketing copy even suggests that Miroirs No. 3 contains thriller elements, but that is grossly misleading. However, Petzold is a skilled filmmaker, who clearly enjoys teasing his viewers with clues as to what his films are really and truly all about. That is particularly true in this case.

Laura is clearly in a funk. The piano student has conspicuously tired of her hipster boyfriend Jakob, so she sabotages his weekend party plans. Demanding he return her to the train station, he recklessly sped down Betty’s rural road, in an act of passive aggression that ultimately costs Jakob his life. Betty saw it all, and Laura saw her seeing it, wondering why the woman locked eyes on her so intently.

You don’t have to be Ingrid Bergman in Spellbound to recognize Betty’s signs of trauma. Her husband Richard and grown son Max moved out because they couldn’t face her borderline delusional behavior any longer, but they still keep tabs on her. Clearly, they worry Laura’s presence will make Betty worse. However, they also act super-awkward and solicitous around her.

If you haven’t figured out Miroirs No. 3 yet, maybe you never will. However, Petzold isn’t really trying fool anyone with a big surprise twist. He is much more interested in the characters’ extreme strategies for dealing with their traumas.

Music also plays an important role. In addition to Ravel’s titular movement, Dutch vocalist Mathilde Sating’s eerie rendition of “You Go to My Head” (which immediately prompts comparisons with Dimitri de Clerq’s much more mysterious and thrillerish amnesia film of the same title) and Frankie Valli’s “The Night” become important topics of conversation within the film.

The Forbidden City: Kung Fu in Rome

In 1990s “One Child” China, being the second daughter was no kind of life. Xiao Mei grew up in hiding, with only her Kung Fu lessons to pass the time. Consequently, she learned the heck out of her martial arts. Therefore, when her older, on-the-books sister Yun goes missing in Rome, Mei comes looking for her and she isn’t asking nicely in Gabriele Mainetti’s The Forbidden City, which releases today on digital.

Basically, Mei had the same human traffickers smuggle her to Rome hoping she would end up in the same place as her sister. However, Mei will not be as compliant about accepting indentured sex work. She quickly plows through half a dozen henchmen who seriously misunderestimate her. However, no matter how many heads she bashes, she can’t find Yun.

Poor Marcello gets some too, even though he is just a cook in his family’s restaurant. Apparently, his father absconded with Yun, but he knows nothing about it. His restaurant doesn’t cater to Mr. Wang’s triads, who trafficked both sisters into Rome. However, their clientele includes Annibale, an old school neighborhood mafia captain, who has befriended the family (and carries a torch for Marcello’s melodramatic mom—she is Italian, after all).

Eventually, Mei and Marcello start working together to find and/or avenge her sister and his father. That maybe overstates his active involvement, but he certainly runs considerable risks. The space between the Triad and the Mafia is pretty dangerous at the best of times, and particularly so when Mei kicks up trouble.

Anyone who has seen Bruce Lee in Way of the Dragon knows Rome has been the location for at least one classic martial arts film already. Forbidden City is not quite at that level, but it isn’t for a lack of trying.

Rendez-Vous ’26: Alpha

Did we learn anything from Covid? Probably not. We had 100 years to study the Spanish Flu and yet our public health authorities had absolutely no lessons to apply. Not surprisingly then, this futuristic outbreak is going just as poorly as its predecessors. In this case, the disease causes blatantly noticeable signs of marbling and calcification on victims’ bodies. You don’t want to get it and the titular teen doesn’t necessarily have it, but her classmates shun her anyway in Julia Ducournau’s Alpha¸ which screened during the 2026 Rendez-Vous with French Cinema, ahead of its theatrical release later in the month.

Alpha’s doctor mom is so overworked, she doesn’t even have a proper name. She is simply known as Maman. As if the porcelain pandemic were not enough for her to deal with, she now must worry about her daughter Alpha possibly contracting it. When the 13-ish teen passed out at party, some unknown party carved a home-maid “A” tattoo into her arm, which quickly developed an infection. Of course, everyone is more concerned Alpha might have also contracted the virus.

To pile even more on “Maman,” she must also care for her younger, drug-addicted brother Amin, who is exhibiting symptoms well beyond withdrawal. Rather ominously, Alpha also starts presenting similar symptoms. That is a lot for Maman to manage, but both of her immature charges do their best to make things as difficult and stressful as possible for her.

As a film, Alpha is a lot, but if it had been any less, its impact probably would have been exponentially diminished.  After six years of pandemic allegories, Ducournau doesn’t really have much new to say, but Golshifteh Farahani’s boldly visceral performance as Maman still demands our time and attention. It is an incredible performance that expresses about a thousand different shades of fear, frustration, resentment, desperation, and utter, absolute exhaustion. Farahani is one of the best thesps working in film today, so lets hope and pray she can soon return to her native Iran—and outlive the oppressive Islamist regime that forced her into exile.

Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, Season Two, on Apple TV+

Some of the best Godzilla lately has come in comic book form. Where else could you see the King face off against the Power Rangers, the Marvel Universe superheroes, and literary figures like Jay Gatsby and Sherlock Holmes (in Godzilla: Monsterpiece Theatre). Arguably, the recent Japanese films, Shin Godzilla and Godzilla Minus One are as good or better, but they have come less frequently. Regardless, the Apple TV+ “Monsterverse” series has far outclassed Legendary Pictures’ films. With the release of second season, episodes are also arriving more frequently. Plus, Kurt Russell and his son Wyatt return as shoot-from-the-hip Col. Leland Shaw (or Captain in scenes from the past) in season two of Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, which is still releasing new episodes on Apple TV+.

Season one ended with a massive cliffhanger, trapping crusty “old” Shaw in Axis Mundi, the monster dimension. However, it is quickly resolved in season two when Cate and Kentaro Randa, the Randa step-siblings, and their ambiguous friend May Olowe-Hewitt (who are sort of like Mystery Incorporated) devise a Doctor Who-worthy plan to save him.

Unfortunately, their operation rouses a new titan from hibernation. That would Titan X, who apparently grew up in the 1980s. This kaiju also has a cooperative symbiotic relationship with a horde of armored crabs known as Scarabs. It turns out Shaw and Mari and Bill Randa have seen these creatures before—and it wasn’t much fun for them the first time, either.

Ironically, when his boss’s presumed death elevates the nebbish Tim, who still has no last name, to command of Outpost 18, the new role surprisingly suits him. Unfortunately, he will have to navigate Apex, a politically connected tech company, who temporarily wrangles control of Titan policy away from Monarch.

Frankly, just about everyone goes rogue at some point in the second season, including both Randa step-siblings, Olowe-Hewitt, and, of course, Shaw, who was born a maverick. Understandably, the destructiveness of Titan rampages brings out strong feelings in the characters and inspires very different strategies to prevent them.

Much of season two feels like one step forward followed by one step back, or vice versa. However, a late season episode, “String Theory” written by Joe Pokaski and directed by Gandja Monteiro, understands what fans have been hoping for. It doesn’t quite happen, but Kurt and Wyatt Russell, who both play the younger and older Shaw, sort of, kind of participate in a sequence of scene. Thy obviously can’t be on-screen together, but the workaround solution is satisfyingly clever.

The Tasters, in the UK & Ireland

Technically, they had extra food in a time of dire scarcity. They just had to make sure it wasn’t poisoned. It might sound like a throwback to Medieval times, because it was. Nobody volunteered either. There are not ladies who lunch, they are captives forced to taste Hitler’s awful vegetarian food in Silvio Soldini’s The Tasters, adapted from Rosella Postorino’s fact-based novel The Women at Hitler’s Table, which just opened in the UK and Ireland.

After her parents’ deaths, Rosa Sauer fled the bombs raining down on Berlin, taking refuge with the in-laws she hardly knows, while her husband Gregor serves on the Eastern Front. They are old and crusty, but reasonably welcoming. Herta still half believes the regime’s propaganda, but Joseph largely sees through their spin. Regardless, neither want her to work as a food tester, but she doesn’t have any choice. It also pays 200 Marks a month, which they need.

There is at least one true believer amongst the seven women (reduced from the ten in Postorino’s book, for dramatic simplicity). You would think they might show Sauer some deference, since her husband is currently deployed—but, no. One young woman is increasingly desperate to find a man, while another might be getting a little too close to her husband’s protégé, while he also serves at the front. It is a stressful job, but particularly so for the Jewish woman living under an assumed name and identity.

Of course, things get worse when SS Lt. Albert Ziegler takes over their tasting meals. Even when Ziegler and Sauer begin an affair, she gets little from it, except staying alive.

The screenplay, credited to Soldini and five other screenwriters, obviously went through a lot of drafts, but the final product wisely avoids cheap sentiment. This is a dark film, in which survival is the best many characters can hope for. The sober vibe is reinforced by Renato Berta’s dark, shadowy cinematography, and Mauro Pagano’s mournful string-heavy score.

Kazuya Shiraishi’s Bushido

Kakunoshin Yanagida is cursed with a dishonorable nemesis. He unwaveringly abides by the Bushido code, but Hyogo Shibata does not. For most of his film, Yanagida must settle for his dignity but there comes a point when it is time for revenge in Kazuya Shiraishi’s Bushido, which releases today in theaters.

Yanagida and his long-suffering daughter Kinu eke a subsistence living. She takes in laundry. He engraves seals. His only indulgence is the occasional game of go, but, as in all things, he plays with an almost perverse sense of honor. However, that makes quite an impression on go-obsessed pawn broker Genbei Yorozuya, who also recognizes Yanagida’s superior knack for strategy. Soon, they become unlikely friends, but Yanagida faces potential ruin as result of Yorozuya’s own negligence.

Just when Yanagida’s reputation in the provincial town craters, his old samurai comrade arrives with news. His former clan wishes to welcome Yanagida back to the domain. His duplicitous rival Shibata has been exposed as the real thief of the lord’s precious scroll. That was the same crime Yanagida was scapegoated and banished for. True to form, Shibata fled like the dishonorable coward he has always been, so Yanagida intends to extract the justice demanded by the Bushido code. However, he needs time, so Kinu buys him a year, by essentially mortgaging herself.

Bushido is aptly titled, because it is as much about the rigorous ethical framework of the Bushido Code, as the swordplay necessary to complete Yanagida’s mission. In fact, Shiraishi holds back the Chanbara hack-and-slash action until late in the third act—but it is worth the wait. Instead, he invests the time establishing Yanagida, Kinu, Yorozuya, and the merchant’s adopted heir, Yakichi, which makes the potential tragedy they each face hit with powerful force.

Fukushima: A Nuclear Nightmare, in The Epoch Times

HBO's FUKUSHIMA: A NUCLEAR NIGHTMARE fully explains the tchnical aspects of the 2011 Japanese disaster and stirringly documents the heroism of the "Fukushima 50" (actually 69). However, it lacks sufficient sources when alleging corporate and official misconduct. EPOCH TIMES review up here.

CPH: DOX: Mariinka

The Zolotkos are a fractured family from a fractured land. The brothers grew up in the Donetsk region of Ukraine—and it really is part of Ukraine, recognized so by every reputable nation, despite Putin’s astro-turfed “insurrection.” Abandoned by their mother early in life, the brothers always faced a rough go from life. Putin’s dirty war added artillery and rocket strikes into the mix. At this point, they literally have no home to return to, thanks to Russia’s ruthless shelling. Yet, they and some of their former classmates still feel an attachment to the leveled titular city, as viewers might pick up during the course of Pieter-Jan De Pue’s documentary, Mariinka, which world premiered at this year’s CPH: DOX film festival.

One brother is only seen early in the film, presumably because he eventually sought extended treatment in Belgium for injuries he sustained in the Ukrainian defense force. Similarly, Mark Zolotko also fights for Ukraine, while his brother Ruslan fights for the Russian-dominated “separatist” militia. Their youngest brother Daniil will fight for neither side, because his brothers all agreed to his American adoption.

Frankly, that might the last point the brothers will agree on. Mark and Ruslan still occasionally keep in touch, but the former clearly considers the latter a traitor. In contrast, Ruslan seems to blame Ukraine for their mother’s failures and the lean, mean circumstances of their orphanage lives. Daniil, now known as Samuel, might be far removed physically, but he feels trapped between them emotionally. Awkwardly, his very Mississippi parents regularly pray for both Mark and Ruslan, and also help resupply each brother with new Ukrainian or Russian uniforms.

In addition to the Zolotko Brothers, De Pue also follows two of their contemporaries, Natasha, a former boxer now serving as a reserve medic and Angela, whose services as a shlepper into and out of Donetsk are in high demand. Viewers truly see the devastating consequences of Putin’s illegal war through Natasha eyes. De Pue contrasts nostalgic home movies of her graduation with more recent footage of her return to the bombed out school, as part of her deployment.

She also visits her late mother’s home, which appears ransacked and vandalized. At least she can salvage some of her belongings. In contrast, the city of Mariinka has been bombed into a ghost town of skeletal housing projects. Yet, Russian propaganda still loudly trumpets its “liberation” of the hulking ruins.

Like Samuel/Daniil’s family, De Pue tries not to take sides. His approach also extends to Samuel’s’ adoptive parents, who get fair treatment, even though they are exactly the kind of Southern, gun-owning Evangelicals that many filmmakers hold very strong biases against. However, De Pue often contrasts the gun safety and marksmanship training Samuel enjoys, with the life-and-death firefights his brothers frequently endure. The irony is clear, but De Pue wisely leaves it at that.

Indeed, there is only so much wreckage and destruction viewers can observe without casting damning judgement against Putin and Wagner (under whose standard Ruslan sometimes marches). In addition to his intimate access to Mariinka’s embattled youth, he provides a boots-on-the-ground perspective on the state of Donetsk, which isn’t pretty.

Armaveni, Graphic Novel

If you aren’t paying attention to what is taught in our schools, that is just fine with many other nations. They aren’t necessarily friendly, which is why they are so eager to shape our lesson plans and curriculums. Some whistle-blowers have called attention to tremendous sums spent by China and Qatar, but our NATO “ally” Turkey also conducted similar propaganda operations. If your kids weren’t taught about the Armenian Genocide, maybe that wasn’t an accident. For an Armenian American like Nadine, having a history teacher corrupted by foreign money is not merely a pedagogical issue. It denies her family’s history and trauma. However, Nadine and her brother Sayat learn the truth for themselves in Nadine Takvorian’s graphic novel Armaveni, which is now on-sale.

Nadine’s parents never spoke of what happened to the family during the Genocide and her grandmother Armaveni, a survivor, is no longer alive to give her testimony. Her parents believe they are protecting their children, but their reticence frustrates Nadine, especially when she realizes her history teacher, Mr. Ward is spinning and even censoring his lessons, to favor the Turkish nationalist version of history, even including Genocide denial.

Eventually, her mother relents, explaining Armaveni’s story as best she knows it. Nadine and Sayat get a fuller historical grounding during their Church-sponsored tour of Armenia. However, she initially clashes with Ani, her roommate, who resents Nadine and her family for their perceived Turkishness. Yet, the siblings really receive an education when they make a stopover in Turkey to visit surviving relatives. There they find a climate of fear, where they must not speak Armenian or discuss sensitive subjects (most definitely including the Genocide).

Armaveni is not autobiography per se, but just about everything is based on actual events in her life and her family’s history, so it is entirely grounded in truth. Regrettably, that also includes Mr. Ward. Indeed, the extent that Turkey seeks to influence the American educational system will be an eye-opener for many readers. Ironically, the Institute for Turkish Studies (directly cited in the graphic novel) was defunded by the Turkish government in 2020, due to maverick board members who supported historical research on the Armenian Genocide and perhaps for not adequately valorizing Erdogan. However, it is safe to assume such efforts continue, from other, less publicized agents of the Turkish government.

Takvorian also illustrates the horrors of the 1915 Genocide (literally so, since this is a graphic novel). Hopefully, better educated readers will not be totally unfamiliar with the rudimentary facts, but there is far less media attention devoted to the Armenian Genocide, compared to other notorious historical atrocities. Consequently, much of Armaveni will be revelatory for younger readers (who will also more readily identify with Nadine). The very term “genocide” was coined to describe the Ottoman Empire’s systematic slaughter of Christian Armenians. This was a true genocide, unlike recent attempts to redefine and invert the word into meaninglessness, which is another reason why this graphic novel feels so timely.

Rendez-Vous ’26: Maigret and the Dead Lover

This year marks the ninety-fifth birthday of Georges Simenon’s famous French sleuth, Inspector Jules Maigret, who was born middle-aged and nursed on beer and apple brandy. PBS’s new, younger Maigret was pretty good, but he wasn’t really Maigret. This is the Maigret you know and probably love. Mrs. Maigret definitely loves him too, so he really doesn’t give a toss about anyone else. However, he is a professional, so he diligently works to solve his latest case, just like always, in Pascal Bonitzer’s Maigret and the Dead Lover, adapted from Simenon’s less diplomatic-sounding Maigret and the Old People, which screens again during the 2026 Rendez-Vous with French Cinema.

Even though Maigret drinks like a fish, he has a reputation for discretion, so he is assigned the potentially politically sensitive case of retired ambassador mysteriously shot multiple times by an unknown person or persons. Despite his calm, workmanlike investigative approach, Maigret’s patience will be sorely tested by his sole witness, Jacqueline “Jacotte” Larrieu, who is stone-deaf without her hearing aids. She also seems to think it is her duty to the foreign ministry to be as unforthcoming as possible.

Regardless, Maigret soon discovers the ambassador and the Princess Isi de Vuynes openly carried romantic torches for each other, despite her marriage of duty to another blue blood. Both families knew of their true love, but the not quite lovers always accepted their duties and their fate. Hence, they waited to reunite until her aristocratic husband might die, which ever so coincidentally happened a week prior.

Maigret is a tricky role to cast, because he is the polar opposite of flashy. What distinguishes the Inspector is his world-weary fatalism and his understated mordant wit. Frankly, Charles Laughton was probably too flamboyant in The Man of the Eiffel Tower, even though he was jolly entertaining to watch. Jean Gabin, Harry Baur, and Rupert Davies were all much closer to Simenon’s Maigret.

Denis Podalydes truly makes a pitch perfect Maigret, gliding through the film with a general spirit of disappointment, but never surprise. He also shares some charming chemistry with the great Irene Jacob. We instantly get all their intimate years spent together and all the bottles of wine they polished off in each other’s company.

Agent Zero: French Spies Amok in Morocco

Manour Khoury is the Whitey Bulger of the DGSE, France’s equivalent of the CIA. Supposedly, ISIS’s arms dealer of choice funnels intel to his French handler. Of course, he expects protection in return. That specifically includes protection from rogue former DGSE field operative Alma Siracine (code-name Badh) in Guillaume de Fontenay’s Agent Zero, which releases this Friday on VOD/digital.

Siracine was one of the best at black ops until a mission in Raqqa suddenly turned ugly. Retiring from the agency, Siracine lives happily with Ilias a police officer, whom Khoury’s thuggish Uday and Qusay-like sons try to assassinate in a drive-by shooting. He had been investigating the arms dealing crime lord, because that is his job. At least Badh certainly sees it that way, so she gets some payback, thereby igniting a war.

Obviously, it is super awkward for DGSE spy-master Joanne Walter when her former agent declares war on her supposed asset. Of course, Walter choses Khoury over her compatriot. That doesn’t sit well Badh’s mentor, Sam, who follows Walter to Morocco, hoping to run interference for Siracine.

Alexandre Coquelle & Matthieu Le Naour’s French language screenplay shows the same contempt and hatred for DGSE that Hollywood usually directs at the CIA. It is a cynical indictment of dark, murky deep state machinations, but with a francophone accent.  Arguably, it is something of a novelty to see this self-hating shoe on the French foot. However, it is clear Saban picked up American rights for the action sequences, which are definitely respectable, in a gritty, Paul Greenglass kind of way.

NYICFF ’26: My Life in Versailles

Violette is a thoroughly modern orphan. Her parents were murdered in a terrorist attack. The film never mentions who the perpetrators were. Maybe it was radical Unitarians. Regardless, Violette is now a ward of the state, but she will live with her Uncle Regis, as per her mother’s wish. He resides in one France’s stateliest homes: Versailles. Technically, he lives in cabin on the grounds, but she will largely have the run of the palace. She warms to it. She might just warm to him too in Clemence Madeleine-Perdrillat & Nathaniel H’limi’s animated feature, My Life in Versailles, the audience spotlight selection of the 2026 New York International Film Festival.

Violette’s parents were not on good terms with Regis, so she is definitely surprised to find herself entrusted to his care. He also smells like cleanser. Regis works as a custodian and maintenance man at Versailles, which his family looks down on. He knows nothing about parenting, but Violette would be tricky for anyone to handle, given her understandable baggage. Not so shockingly, she frequently runs away from home, back to her old flat in Paris. Yet, she eventually finds herself trying to convince the busybody social worker to allow her to stay.

Regis’s co-worker Olga also looks out for Violette. Even the ghost of Louis X1V isn’t so bad once she gets to know him. However, she still has a lot of grieving and healing to do. She also starts to understand Regis has a lot to work through, as well. In fact, she eventually understands him better than her parents or grandparents ever did.

Madeleine-Perdrillat’s screenplay is episodic but gently endearing. It also fully capitalizes on the romantic Versailles setting, exploring the palace’s secret passages and underground tunnels. The animation deliberately evokes the style of children’s book illustrations, but many of the richly detailed Versailles interiors are truly eye-popping.

Rendez-Vous ’26: The Money Maker

One of Czeslaw Jan Bojarski’s forged 1,000 Franc notes sold at auction for 7,000 Euros in 2015. That means it held its value better than the currency Bojarski was counterfeiting. The press dubbed him the “Cezanne of counterfeit money,” but he remained relatively unknown, both inside and outside France, until the domestic release of Jean-Paul Salome’s The Money Maker (a.k.a. the Bojarski Affair), which screens again during the 2026 Rendez-Vous with French Cinema.

Bojarski didn’t exactly chose to live in France. The Polish Home Army veteran eventually landed there after the Nazis and Communists divided up his homeland. To survive, he forged identity papers. Yet, ironically, he remained “undocumented” for the first ten years after the war. Consequently, he was unable to find employment as an engineer. However, his old black-market boss had a job for him.

Frankly, Bojarski never really liked him, so he doesn’t really mind when Commissioner Andre Mattei’s bust turns him into a freelance counterfeiter. Instead of bloody shootouts to hijack paper enroute to the mint (as seen in the prologue), Bojarski devises a way to make his own, repurposing cigarette papers. However, hiding his real business from his French wife Suzanne will be the tricky part—especially when his conspicuous deception puts stress on their marriage.

The Money Maker might be screening at film festivals, but it is also a movie, in that it serves up an accessible and suspenseful crime story. It has the hubris of high tragedy and the bullet spray of gangster movies. Reportedly, Jean-Pierre Melville was an influence on Salome’s approach, which definitely computes. Yet, what most drives the film is the terrific chemistry shared by Reda Kateb (whom jazz fans will recognize for portraying Django Reinhardt) and Sara Giraudeau, as the Bojarskis. It is a rather appealing romance—that he endangers through his compulsive risk-taking.

Whoever Steals This Book (NYICFF '26), in Cinema Daily US

WHOEVER STEALS THIS BOOK (screening at NYICFF'26) promotes literacy in a roundabout, counterintuitive way. However, it also has manuy of the staples anime fans love (including shapeshifting, magical libraries, and a plucky young heroine) in an endearing, bittersweet genre-hopping fantasy. CINEMA DAILY US review up here.

Scooby-Doo! & Batman: The Brave and the Bold, on Cartoon Network

Batman has many nicknames: the Caped Crusader, Dark Knight, and World’s Greatest Detective. Mystery Incorporated also has a few: the Scooby Gang and those “meddling kids.” Frankly, Batman kind of likes the last one. They get along fairly well—maybe because this isn’t their first meeting. The characters had crossover team-ups in “The Dynamic Scooby-Doo Affair” and “The Caped Crusader Caper,” two installments of The New Scooby-Doo Movies, which was really just another Scooby TV series, even though it pretended its episodes were movies. Their most recent on-screen collaboration really is a movie—that even had a theatrical premiere before releasing direct-to-DVD. Having laid the groundwork for the Batman & Scooby-Doo Mysteries comic book that launched in 2021 (and still regularly revives with special issues), Jake Castorna’s Scooby-Doo! & Batman: The Brave and the Bold airs this coming Saturday on the Cartoon Network.

Mystery Incorporated’s unmasking successes finally convinced Batman to recruit them for the Mystery Analysts of Gotham City. They simply had to pass a test he arranged with the help of Martian Manhunter and Detective Chimp. Honestly, the real mystery is why Warner Animation hasn’t used Detective Chimp more often. (His guest appearance in Wonder Woman #16 was a delight.) Then, they gang also must sleuth their way to the meeting, where they also meet the Question, Plastic Man, and Black Canary. As it happens, Fred Jones is totally gob smacked by her, which should put to rest a lot of rumors. For the record, the ascot does not help his cause.

Naturally, they want to help solve Batman’s only unsolved case, which coincidentally might be related to Gotham’s latest break-in. It seems the spectral Crimson Cloak’s theft of radioactive isotopes might be related to the unstable teleportation device from Batman’s notoriously open case. It turns out he saved the wrong lab assistant. The innocent one remains missing in the ether, but the other has been remanded to Arkham Asylum, under the name The Riddler. So off to Arkham they go, even though bad things always happen there.

Obviously, there are a lot of jokes in Scooby: The Brave and the Bold. It is a Scooby-Doo movie. However, it features the voices of Diedrich Bader and horror legend Jeffrey Combs as Batman and the Question, neither of whom get the credit they deserve for their DC animated work. Indeed, Bader’s Batman hits the right sardonic notes, indicating he is in on the jokes, at least to the extent he is constitutionally capable of acknowledging humor.

Arguably, the one character who suffers from Paul Giacoppo’s screenplay treatment is Aquaman, who comes off looking and sounding like a clumsy, obtuse meathead. Plastic Man is the same Plastic Man from the 1979 Plastic Man Comedy/Adventure Show. On the other hand, Black Canary and the Question should have seen their fandom stock rise from their appearances in this film.

Doc Fortnight ’26: The Vanishing Point

It didn't start in 2026. It didn’t start with the women life freedom movement. It didn’t even start with the Green protests of 2009. It certainly wasn’t anything Trump created. For decades, Iranians have resisted their oppressive Islamist regime. A painful case in point would be filmmaker Bani Khoshnoudi’s dissident cousin, who was arrested and eventually executed, leaving behind only a small bag of effects. For years, her family grieved her in silence. However, like so many bereaved parents, Khoshnoudi finally speaks out, paying tribute to her cousin and condemning the regime’s human rights abuses in The Vanishing Point, which screens again today as part of the 2026 Documentary Fortnight at MoMA.

In 1988, Khoshnoudi and her husband tried to covertly return to Iran, but she was betrayed by her in-laws. The rest of her life was spent in Evin prison, with no contact with the outside world. When her family retrieved her possessions, they were warned to stay quiet, which they did.

Khoshnoudi, who immigrated to the U.S. with her parents after the 1979 revolution, was banned from returning to Iran in 2009, after directing a film addressing the Green protests. She was probably safer that way, judging from her mother’s anecdote, explaining how she once outsmarted Basij morality police, a story that is both absurdly funny and chillingly frightening.

This film does not focus on Khoshnoudi’s cousin, but she is the inspiration and the catalyst. The grief her family had to hide also helps her relate to the anguished mothers seen in the protest footage she incorporates throughout the film.

Frankly, The Vanishing Point is a little of this and a little of that. There is visceral video of the Iranian police and Basij militia beating and even shooting protesters at point blank range. There are also family interviews and even meditative interludes filmed in the abandoned homes left behind by dissenting Iranians made to disappear.

My Grandfather is a Nihonjin (NYICFF '26), in Cinema Daily US

MY GRANDFATHER IS A NIHONJIN illuminates the Japnese-Brazilian immigrant experience through its charming hand-drawn animation and vibrant tropical colors. It incorporates very real history in an easily relatable family story. CINEMA DAILY US NYICFF '26 review up here.

Rendez-Vous ’26: The Stranger

Albert Camus never revealed his first name, but the character known simply as Meursault introduced generations of high school students to the concept of existentialism. If you haven’t read The Stranger, then you shame your school district. By its nature, Camus’s novel has bedeviled attempted film adaptations, but Francois Ozon finally embraces its philosophical and psychological essence (at least until he suddenly doesn’t) in The Stranger, which was the opening night film of the 2026 Rendez-Vous with French Cinema.

Meursault’s mother recently died, but it hardly seems to phase him. The French-Algerian settler’s lack of apparent grief is most definitely noticed by the residents of her retirement home—and they will remember it later. Returning to Algiers as if nothing had happened, Meursault spends a day at the beach, where h rekindles a relationship with Marie Cardona, a former co-worker. She clearly considers him a potential future husband, but for Meursault, it is clearly just sex to break up his boredom.

Similarly, Meursault “befriends,” or rather passes the time with his thuggish neighbor Raymond Sintes, because his abusive behavior towards his Arab Algerian lover means nothing to the younger man. However, the vendetta launched by the battered woman’s brother will eventually precipitate a moment of feverish violence that forever changes Meursault’s fate.

So, yes, this is The Stranger. Plus, Ozon incorporates the narrative of Camus’s The Misunderstanding, which Meursault reads in an old newspaper and philosophically expounds upon when Cardona visits him in prison. Yet, whether Camus would approve of Meursault’s interpretation is highly debatable.

Indeed, Ozon suddenly loses the plot during the third act, while Meursault awaits a ruling on his appeal. Meursault is supposed to exist outside conventional emotions and social niceties. (Indeed, the novel’s title has sometimes been translated as The Outsider.) He truly lacks the ability to forge human connections and feels no inclination to fake it. There is something unknowable about Meursault. He is simply different (and perversely, perhaps more honest) than the rest of us.

At least that is Camus’s Meursault. In a radical departure from the novel, Ozon suggests late in the eleventh hour that Meursault’s extreme existential aloofness was largely a function of early life trauma. Just like that, the unknowable becomes easy to grasp—arguable even trite and cliched. The “Stranger” is back in the human fold, which irreparable softens the film’s impact, making it all safely digestible.

It is a shame, because Ozon’s The Stranger could have potentially ranked as the greatest Camus film produced to date. The bracing early discipline, from both Ozon and lead actor Bejamin Voisin, is boldly true to Camus’s vision. Manuel Dacosse’s stark black-and-white cinematography also perfectly suits the story, like a sunny film noir. Truly, every shot was painstakingly composed by Ozon—so much so, true cineastes will find themselves marveling at the film’s austere beauty.

Voisin is also perfectly cast as Meursault. Despite his high-profile work in Apple TV+’s Careme, he is largely an unknown quantity in the United States and therefore carries no baggage into the film (unlike Marcello Mastroianni in Visconti’s 1967 adaptation). Again, “discipline” is a word that aptly applies to his performance, as well as “brooding intensity.”