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With a title like DEATH & TAXES, it's easy to expect something technical and rigid. But what filmmaker Justin Schein delivers is far more intimate—and far more revealing. What begins as a documentary about estate taxes evolves into a deeply personal reckoning with legacy, inequality, and the hard-to-swallow truths that often lie at the heart of American wealth. Schein turns the lens on his own family, and in particular, his late father, Harvey Schein—a powerful and complex business executive whose lifelong obsession with keeping his fortune out of the IRS's grasp nearly tore their family apart.

As a storm creeps closer to a sleepy Florida town, NO SLEEP TILL chooses to follow not the path of destruction, but the people who decide to stay behind. Instead of creating a race-against-time narrative or plumbing the depths of catastrophe, the film prefers to remain grounded in the stillness before impact, the silence before the storm. It’s a confident, stripped-down debut from Alexandra Simpson, and while its minimalism may frustrate some viewers, its commitment to atmosphere, character, and subtle expression is never in question.

Something is mesmerizing about ICONIC—a dark, stylish plunge into the psychosis of modern-day influencer culture that lingers longer than you’d expect (I still keep thinking about it.) Director Matthew Freiheit’s debut feature walks the line between satire and psychological horror. The film thrives on the boldness of its vision and the sheer commitment of its lead, Emma Jade, who plays the truly iconic Rose.

A documentary like LIFE AFTER enters the conversation like a challenge, asking not only whether we value disabled lives, but what it means when society quietly answers “not really.” Directed by Reid Davenport, a disabled filmmaker known for I DIDN’T SEE YOU THERE (another incredible film), this searing, often heartbreaking investigation reexamines the legacy of Elizabeth Bouvia, a disabled woman who, in 1983, became a flashpoint in the national right-to-die debate. But what Davenport uncovers in that legacy isn’t just history—it’s a warning.

THE SONS OF GREAT BEAR doesn’t just stray from the American Western blueprint—it redraws the entire structure. Crafted by East Germany’s state-run studio DEFA in 1966 and adapted from Liselotte Welskopf-Henrich’s popular novels, the film reimagines the frontier through a distinctly socialist lens. While the typical Hollywood Western centers on the concept of manifest destiny and rugged individualism, this film inverts that narrative, instead focusing on Indigenous resistance, collective struggle, and the moral bankruptcy of colonial greed.

MOTHER NATURE AND THE DOOMSDAY PREPPER blends opposites-attract rom-com charm with environmental notification and a healthy dose of fantastical absurdity. It's the kind of film where romance blooms amid wildfires and rising sea levels, where divine ultimatums are handed down from Mount Olympus via scrolls, and where the fate of the planet might depend on one man's bunker solution and one goddess's patience. If that sounds like a lot, it is—but it's also kind of the point.

Some rediscovered films feel like lost treasure. Others, like DAMES AND DREAMS, feel more like the contents of a forgotten drawer—curious, colorful, and undeniably nostalgic, but not exactly essential. Long buried and finally restored, this 1974 sexploitation oddity from director Harry Sahn reemerges after decades in obscurity.

In a landscape where psychological thrillers often lean on tired tropes and flashy aesthetics, SOUL TO SQUEEZE stands out by its restraint—and then slowly, methodically, pulling that restraint apart. What starts as a claustrophobic exploration of one man’s unraveling mental state morphs, quite literally, into something bigger. Director W.M. Weikart dares to build a film not just about perception but shaped by it, allowing form to follow function in a way that elevates the story beyond its roots.

BENEATH THE FOLD strips journalism of its romanticism and puts the job back where it belongs: on the floor of a crumbling newsroom, littered with empty coffee cups, exhausted staff, and half-finished stories. Writer-director Neil Thomas Kirby—drawing on his own experience as a small-town reporter—delivers a somber yet honest portrait of a profession gasping for relevance during a financial crisis, where passion runs high but resources run dry.

In an era where headlines vanish faster than the lives they mark, TETHER refuses to look away. It takes a national nightmare—the kind that’s become tragically commonplace in America—and focuses not on the violence itself, but on what lingers in its wake. With a modest budget, a sharp emotional focus, and the quiet power of two characters, this film is less a portrait of trauma than a confrontation with its long tail. While the story itself and the honesty behind it are incredible, the execution occasionally struggles to match the same level of quality.

Ole Bornedal’s NIGHTWATCH remains one of the defining thrillers to emerge from Denmark’s pre-Nordic Noir wave—a slow-burning, sharp-edged puzzle-box of dread that first set the stage for an entire generation of European crime thrillers. Though time has passed since its 1994 debut, the film still buzzes with the unnerving charge of being alone with the dead, and now, thanks to Arrow Video’s new two-film set, both NIGHTWATCH and its long-awaited sequel, NIGHTWATCH: DEMONS ARE FOREVER, arrive packaged together for audiences old and new.

In a subgenre that’s been dragged through a sea of low-budget imitators, DON’T LOG OFF manages to do something few COVID-era webcam thrillers have pulled off: it works. Tense, cleverly structured, and balanced, it doesn’t rely on gimmicks—it commits to its format and trusts the strength of its cast and concept to carry the weight. And for the most part, it succeeds.

It’s not every day a zombie movie sets its sights on fan culture and manages to both celebrate and roast it at the same time. ZOMBIECON VOL. 1 lands somewhere between chaos and commentary, blending camp, carnage, and cosplay in a world that feels absurdly heightened and yet oddly timely. While it doesn’t always stick the landing, this genre-mashing indie horror comedy charges forward with confidence, buoyed by a cast that’s enjoying themselves and a concept bold enough to stand out in an overcrowded undead landscape.

There’s a unique bravery in silence, particularly in a time when shouting seems to dominate every corner of modern discourse. DIVIA, directed by Dmytro Hreshko, doesn’t whisper so much as it allows the earth itself to breathe. It offers no commentary, no narration, no voice guiding you through its 79-minute meditation. Instead, it trusts the viewer to witness, absorb, and feel the unspoken weight of what war leaves behind—and what may slowly grow in its aftermath.

What does it mean to love across barriers—barriers of religion, orientation, ability, or communication? That question pulses through the heart of A QUIET LOVE, a quietly profound documentary that gives voice—visually, emotionally, and metaphorically—to three Deaf couples whose stories are as personal as they are universally moving. Directed by Garry Keane, the film is not simply a collection of narratives; it's a rich and immersive experience that transforms the screen into a space of shared empathy, offering viewers a perspective rarely depicted with such authenticity and care.

MARLEE MATLIN: NOT ALONE ANYMORE is more than a tribute—it’s a reclamation. Directed by Shoshannah Stern, the film gives Matlin the space and the language to tell her story on her terms, finally. For a woman whose life has often been filtered through interpreters, interviews, and assumptions, this documentary presents something long overdue: full autonomy. This is her story, as she tells it.

In a landscape where extremism and ideology often get boiled down to caricature, SOVEREIGN emerges as the exception—one that refuses to offer easy answers. What initially appeared to be a standard direct-to-streaming thriller, complete with clipped-out characters pointing in different directions for the poster art, and a vague title, instead delivers a harrowing meditation on radicalization, family loyalty, and the tragic consequences of distorted freedom. Anchored by a career-defining performance from Nick Offerman, SOVEREIGN is one of the most emotionally jarring and socially urgent films of the year.

Beata Parkanová’s TINY LIGHTS is a quiet triumph in restrained storytelling, bringing deep emotional resonance without ever raising its voice. Centering the entire film around six-year-old Amálka’s perspective, Parkanová doesn't just direct a narrative—she reconstructs a memory, crafting an experience that feels suspended in time. It's a thoughtful meditation on the moment when innocence begins to fade, not from cruelty, but from the subtle complications of adulthood glimpsed before a child is ready.

A new home. A new beginning. A fresh chance. However, in PUSH, that promise quickly turns into a high-stress scenario built on limitations, psychological dread, and an incredibly vulnerable main character. The concept is strong. The tension is built in. Unfortunately, the film only delivers on part of its premise, serving up a lean, effective horror thriller that never quite realizes its full potential.

ZOMBIES 4: DAWN OF THE VAMPIRES marks a clear shift for the Disney franchise that began as a peppy tale of zombie–human coexistence and Romeo & Juliet style forbidden love. Four films in, and the message of empathy remains intact—but the approach feels different. Not worse, just… older. And maybe that’s the point. After following Zed (Milo Manheim) and Addison (Meg Donnelly) through high school, werewolf turf wars, and alien arrivals, this fourth entry doesn’t quite reboot the series. Still, it certainly caters to a slightly more mature crowd.

When you’re a lifelong Blink-182 fan, anything with Tom DeLonge’s name attached carries a little extra weight. That might be why MONSTERS OF CALIFORNIA instantly shot to the top of my must-watch list for me. DeLonge has been vocal for years about his belief in UFOs, government cover-ups, and the importance of looking beyond what we’re told. So when he steps behind the camera for his directorial debut, it’s not surprising that the result is part sci-fi thriller, part punk-fueled rally cry, and part teen mischief movie. What is surprising is how sincere and charming it ultimately proves to be, despite having rough edges.

There’s something unexpectedly moving about watching a band that once ruled alternative radio airwaves pull back the curtain after thirty years. GIVE ME A WORD: THE COLLECTIVE SOUL STORY may be modest in ambition, but its honesty and genuine affection for the music—and the men behind it—elevate it far above the standard rock documentary fare. In director Joseph Rubinstein’s hands, the story of Ed and Dean Roland and their bandmates is presented with care, compassion, and just enough raw honesty to make it stick.

Sometimes a documentary doesn’t need to break dive into spectacle to make an impact—it just needs to be honest and fearless. That’s exactly where BANNED TOGETHER goes, and then it takes one step further. With a confidence that never veers into melodrama, it puts a spotlight on a growing crisis in public education. It lets the camera roll while teenagers try to clean up the mess left behind by adults who are either too afraid or too complicit to act. The result is a story that’s as current as it's personal, and one that never forgets how important it is to speak up when others are trying to rewrite the rules in silence.

Just when you thought dessert couldn’t be deadly, THE STUFF oozed into your nightmares—and your fridge. Larry Cohen’s bonkers consumerism satire disguised as a mutant dessert thriller is exactly the cult insanity that thrives under 4K restoration. Equal parts horror, comedy, conspiracy thriller, and low-calorie fever dream, this 1985 oddity serves up more goopy weirdness than anyone asked for, and that’s kind of the point.