It’s surprising that The Brutalist isn’t based on a real person. Everything about it—the tone, the narrative arc, the emotional weight—feels like a historical biopic. But it’s not, and maybe that’s what makes it even more powerful. Because despite its ambition and scale, this is an intensely human film. I walked away deeply moved by the story of a marriage that always seems on the verge of getting better… but doesn’t. Adrien Brody is outstanding. He crafts a restrained, layered character without relying on big speeches or overacting. Brady Corbet’s direction is grand and imposing, yet never loses sight of the small details—a glance, a gesture, a well-timed silence. The story unfolds like a tragic symphony, slowly pulling you into a world where visual beauty and emotional devastation go hand in hand. And the music… From the very first sound on the ship to the closing moments, it’s phenomenal. It doesn’t just accompany the drama—it heightens it, transforms it. One of those scores that stays with you long after the film ends. This is not an easy film, nor a short one, nor light in any way. But it’s the kind of experience that leaves a mark. And sometimes, that’s exactly what we’re looking for.

I didn’t expect to enjoy Conclave this much, and in the end, it turned out to be one of the most solid films of the year. With a tightly woven script, a cast in top form, and a direction that’s elegant yet effective, the story pulls you in from the first minutes and builds slowly but confidently. The fact that it’s based on a novel by Robert Harris—an author I’ve followed since Fatherland—shows in the depth, tension, and well-timed twists. Ralph Fiennes is excellent. His portrayal of Cardinal Thomas Lawrence hits the perfect balance between restraint and emotion. He moves between duty and doubt with a naturalness that gives every scene weight, and he holds the film together with a calm presence that never slips into overacting. Around him, everything works: from the production design to the music, and a cast of perfectly chosen supporting actors, the film oozes quality. The best part is how it manages to deliver suspense without losing its solemn tone. Berger turns the intrigue into a chess match where every move matters, while never forgetting the spiritual and political context of the Vatican. The result is a sophisticated, absorbing thriller that keeps you hooked without needing to shout. A well-earned 9.

Without reinventing the genre, Extraterritorial delivers exactly what it sets out to: an exciting, well-crafted action film that holds your attention from start to finish. It's especially refreshing to see a strong, determined, and charismatic woman leading the story—not as a gimmick or statement, but simply because she’s the best person for the job. And she proves it in every scene. The plot strikes a solid balance between tension, mystery, and pacing. While the villain doesn’t break any molds—yes, he’s the classic by-the-book baddie—the overall narrative doesn’t suffer. Everything flows naturally, and it’s clear the main goal here is to entertain. And in that, it succeeds. It may not have any unforgettable scenes or jaw-dropping twists, but as a solid piece of escapist cinema, Extraterritorial holds up well. The action sequences are handled competently, there are a couple of genuinely effective moments, and the film stays on track even when the script wobbles a bit. All in all, it’s a movie that delivers a good time. Nothing more, nothing less—but done with energy and craft. And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.

Adapting El Eternauta, one of the most important comics in Argentine history, was no easy task—let alone turning it into a series without losing its essence. But Netflix’s version largely pulls it off. Not perfectly, but with ambition, respect for the source material, and technical quality that’s a pleasure to watch. Visually, it’s strong, the special effects more than do their job, and the apocalyptic tone is effectively established from the first episode. Ricardo Darín is, as expected, outstanding. He not only carries the story with ease, but also brings humanity and strength to a character facing extreme circumstances while remaining believable. Around him, everything works: the atmosphere is oppressive when it needs to be, the supporting cast has weight, and the direction shows genuine affection for the original work. It’s clear that Stagnaro didn’t just want to adapt the comic—he wanted to create something that speaks to the present without betraying the past. Does it drag at times? Yes, occasionally. There are stretches where the pace slows down and it seems to get lost between personal drama and collective epic. But even in those slower moments, the series holds your interest thanks to its world-building, underlying tension, and the political and social backdrop that—just like in the comic—is always present. In short, El Eternauta is a brave, well-crafted series. It resonates with those familiar with the story and draws in those discovering it for the first time. It just barely misses a perfect score—but it fully earns its 9 out of 10.

Sometimes you don’t know what you're expecting from a movie until it surprises you by mixing genres like it couldn’t care less what anyone thinks. The Secret Abyss does just that: it starts out feeling like a military action flick, dives headfirst into fantasy, flirts with horror, and ends up telling a surprisingly believable and even touching love story. It's a bit crazy—yes—but somehow, it works. The relationship between Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy’s characters is one of the pillars holding everything together. Not only is there real chemistry between them, but you also genuinely believe their connection—even when they’re surrounded by nightmarish creatures and non-stop gunfire. Some moments come close to being ridiculous, sure, but they never cross the line. Instead, the film leans into dark humor, sharp dialogue, and an unexpected touch of tenderness to balance everything out. Visually, it’s powerful. Scott Derrickson knows how to create atmosphere, and it shows—from the eerie gorge at the film’s center to the video game-style shootouts, everything has a distinctive energy. Some might feel it drags a little near the end, and sure, the script could’ve used a bit more polish. But rather than take itself too seriously, The Secret Abyss chooses to be, above all, entertaining. And it pulls it off. It comes out on top of its unlikely genre mashup and leaves you with a final line that, whether absurd or symbolic, sticks with you: “For me, the rabbit pie.” Exactly.