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Curiosity, longing, and memory collide in this eerie, slow-burning drama that sidesteps the typical playbook for science fiction. Rather than spotlighting spaceships or elaborate mythology, the film roots itself in one woman’s obsessive desire to connect the past to the present, chasing not closure, but something closer to clarity. With an understated tone and a sharp focus on human behavior, this is less about what might be in the sky and more about what’s left unresolved here on Earth. I found it genuinely hypnotic; the multiple subplots somehow work in unison in a way I wasn’t expecting.

Sometimes the scariest stories aren’t dystopian futures or imagined horrors—they’re pulled straight from our everyday reality. That’s the unsettling energy this film channels as it builds its world, brick by brick, out of a distinctly American story. It’s a movie that feels like it could have been overheard at a gas station or shared in the depths of an internet forum, yet it never leans too heavily into caricature. It walks a delicate line, dramatizing radicalization without outright condemning or glorifying it—and that’s where it gets its power and its controversy.

Something is entrancing about a story that doesn’t rely on explosions, world-ending stakes, or grand spectacle to keep your attention. What starts as an off-grid weekend between two academics quickly reshapes into a story that’s as much about human connection as it is about the coded mysteries of our DNA. Rather than reaching outward, this one folds inward, zooming in on the friction, affection, and unease that can spark when three people find themselves locked in a single space, navigating each other's minds and a discovery that could change everything.

It’s not often you see a project this raw and stripped of pretense, where the drama plays out in glances, hesitations, and a year’s worth of personal milestones. Rather than leaning on spectacle, this film trusts the audience to sit with uncertainty, and the reward is a story that feels remarkably lived-in and sincere.

Some projects hit harder when the camera turns inward, looking at the subject and those who meant the most to the subject's world. What begins as a tribute evolves into something more textured—an introspective examination of legacy, identity, and the weight of preserving a name that once lit up the Las Vegas strip. The director’s proximity to the subject gives the documentary a raw intimacy, elevating it from profile piece to personal reckoning.

In the intriguing blend of satire and horror that is PRINCETON’S IN THE MIX, director Jonathan DiMaio tackles the fervent lengths to which affluent parents will stretch to boost their children’s academic prospects. With the Bay Area elite as its setting, the film cleverly contrasts the opulent lifestyle with the dark depths of parental desperation. At the core of this narrative is a mother’s anxiety over her son’s future, which drives the plot into humorously dark and unsettlingly sharp territories.

In a uniquely disturbing, isolated, yet somewhat welcoming household, young Sally (Kynlee Heiman) sets out on a seemingly simple errand that morphs into a significant exploration of life's more profound truths. SALLY, GET THE POTATOES elegantly weaves a narrative that transforms a brief 16-minute runtime into a riveting exploration of growing up. The film's narrative captures the tender yet tumultuous journey from innocence to a matured understanding of the world around us, making every minute count.