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The late 1970s marked a turning point in Japanese cinema. “Movie mogul” Haruki Kadokawa, eager to redefine how movies were made and sold, pushed the idea of the homegrown blockbuster—spectacle, international stars, and a marketing blitz that rivaled Hollywood. PROOF OF THE MAN, directed by Jun’ya Satō and adapted from Seiichi Morimura’s best-selling novel, arrived in 1977 as one of those tentpoles. A murder mystery on its surface, the film also serves as an excavation of postwar trauma, posing uncomfortable questions about race, identity, and the lasting scars of occupation.

GOOD LUCK TO ME is a brief film, but its briefness doesn’t diminish its weight. Directed by Maya Ahmed and co-written by Heather Bayles and Timothy J. Cox, the short compresses the complexity of a 20-year marriage into 10 minutes. It doesn’t need dramatic fireworks or a sweeping score to make its point. Instead, it relies on awkward pauses, strained civility, and the lived-in weariness of two people who once promised forever but now can’t find common ground.

In a culture that constantly measures worth by appearance, Nicholas Goodwin’s BEAUTY QUEEN takes on the daunting task of unpacking that pressure through a coming-of-age lens. At its center is Christina, played with restraint by Christina Goursky, who represents a generation that feels torn between intellectual achievement and a gnawing hunger to be considered beautiful. The short film, despite its modest production budget, makes its case through authenticity, nuanced performances, and an exploration of how family can anchor us when the world tempts us into shallow waters. The film's release in 2018 still feels as relevant, if not more so, in 2025.

Greg Daniels and Michael Koman’s THE PAPER is not simply a spinoff of THE OFFICE; it’s a spiritual cousin that knows how to respect its roots while finding its own. The premise follows the same documentary crew that made Dunder Mifflin’s Scranton branch famous, now turning their cameras toward a historic but struggling Midwestern newspaper, the Toledo Truth Teller, and the publisher desperate to keep it alive. It’s a concept that plays perfectly into Daniels’ strengths: ordinary workplaces transformed into observed comedies of human behavior.

With BULLET TIME, Eddie Alcazar shifts his talents into hand-drawn animation, and the result is a chaotic, affectionate, and unashamedly bizarre tribute to both 90s cartoons and his late dog Bullet. Clocking in at just nine minutes, this pilot is packed with frenetic energy, surreal humor, and an emotional undercurrent that sneaks up on you amid the madness.

TEMPEST is a series designed to transcend borders. At first glance, it’s another entry in the sprawling world of espionage dramas. Yet, under the surface, it delivers more—an exploration of trust, loyalty, and fractured identities played out against a conspiracy that stretches from Seoul to Washington.

Set against the rise of Apple and the near-mythic figure of Steve Jobs, EVERYTHING TO ME unfolds as a clever, heartfelt look at ambition, failure, and the moments in between that actually shape who we become. Kayci Lacob, making her feature directorial debut, crafts a story that is both nostalgic and incisive, weaving Silicon Valley’s glossy allure with the awkward realities of growing up.

Short films thrive when they condense ambitious ideas into concise storytelling, and AS i BELIEVE THE WORLD TO BE does just that. Written and directed by Spooky Madison, the project was born from creative constraint: competitors were given a theme and a prop and had only a month to turn the concept into a finished film. The result is a thriller that blurs the line between reality and imagination, a compact story in which a writer tests the limits of chaos one mind can conjure before the world pushes back.

James Sweeney’s TWINLESS takes a premise ripe for intrigue — two men bonding in a bereavement support group for twins — and spins it into a darkly funny, emotionally layered story that defies expectations. Written, directed by, and co-starring Sweeney, this Sundance audience award-winner refuses to stay in a single lane. It’s hilarious and biting one moment, deeply moving the next, and even a little shocking when its secrets unravel. The result is one of the year’s most distinctive indie films, anchored by two phenomenal performances.

Chad Hartigan’s THE THREESOME begins as the kind of presumptuous premise you might expect from a raunchy sex comedy: two long-time friends finally hook up and bring in a stranger into the mix for a spontaneous night together. However, rather than relying solely on cheap laughs, the film uses that impulsive encounter as the starting point for something more complex. At its core, it’s a romantic comedy with genuine weight — one willing to ask what happens when a fantasy meets reality, and when adults are forced to grow up in the aftermath.

Anuparna Roy’s feature debut is as modest as its 77-minute runtime suggests, yet its quiet emotional force persists long after the final frame. The film follows Thooya, a migrant actress trying to carve out a place in Mumbai while struggling to survive, and Swetha, a corporate worker who sublets a temporary home from her. The premise seems straightforward, but Roy is far more interested in the inner lives of these women than in melodrama or plot mechanics. What emerges is a deeply humane portrait of two individuals who find each other in a city that rarely slows down long enough to notice anyone.

There’s an unparalleled restlessness in the summer after graduation, a time caught between childhood and adult responsibility. THE RUNAROUNDS leans into that transitional energy with a mix of humor, heart, and plenty of music. Created by Jonas Pate and David Wilcox, this eight-episode Prime Video series follows a Wilmington, North Carolina band made up of recent grads trying to turn a summer into something more. It’s a story full of mistakes, heartbreak, and hope—the kind of messy ambition that feels authentic to anyone who ever dreamed too big, too soon.

PSYCHIC MURDER may only run ten minutes, but it crams in a surprising amount of tension, satire, and complexity into those frames. Directed and co-written by Brandon Block, the film tells the story of Billy (Will Bernish), a struggling young stand-up comic born with a three-fingered hand. Early on, Billy can’t quite find his voice on stage. His jokes lack confidence, and his physical differences are something he avoids fully embracing. The breakthrough comes when he begins folding his own disability into his material, using humor as a way to claim ownership over his body and his story. It’s a moment that feels both triumphant and slightly uneasy, as the film wisely doesn’t present self-deprecating humor as an uncomplicated solution.

Director and co-writer Brandon Christensen has long demonstrated an interest in using horror to explore more than just jump scares. The film’s setting—a quiet 1980s suburb where Halloween is still a community event—immediately feels familiar, yet the story avoids playing like a mere nostalgia cliche. Instead, it builds suspense by centering on Deena (Jessica Clement), a college student reluctantly taking a last-minute babysitting job while back home for the weekend. It’s a premise that sounds classic on paper. Still, Christensen and his brother Ryan give it a fresh twist by intersecting Deena’s ordeal with the investigation of Sheriff Rod (Ryan Robbins), who receives a chilling package suggesting a previous murder may only be the beginning.

Sometimes the most unexpected journeys carry the deepest emotional weight. DARUMA takes that familiar notion and reshapes it into a story that’s genuinely heartfelt in its humanity. At its core, this indie drama doesn’t hinge on disability as a narrative gimmick; instead, it highlights fully realized characters who happen to live with disabilities, allowing their complexities to take center stage. While the film started a little slowly, I wasn’t entirely sure where it was going, but it picked up in the second and third acts to offer a complete story that will get you in your feels!