20. Moor (Adilkhan Yerzhanov, Kazakhstan)

Third is a charm as they say, and this is also the case with Adilkhan Yerzhanov’s “Moor”, an uncompromising revenge thriller that world-premiered at Tallinn Black Nights, closing up a very sucessfull year for the Kazakh helmer whose “Steppenwolf” screened to critical acclaim at the Berlinale, followed by “Cadet” which bowed in Tokyo. “Moor” is unlike anything Yerzhanov has done so far, and yet – it bears the helmer’s unique signature: cynical gaze at the core of corruption in his homeland, silent heroes and burstd of violence. It is so far his most accomplished genre piece, masterly directed, lavishly produced and set up to the original score composed by Sandro di Stefano. It is also the first (of 20) of Yerzhanov’s feature films whose story isn’t set up in the village of Karatas, but in a large-scale (nameless) city where plenty of nasty things call for action by the eponymous Moor (Berik Aitzhanov), an ex-con and war veteran. (Marina Richter)
19. HappyEnd (Neo Sora, Japan)

The way the principal uses first the threat of the earthquake and then what he describes as a terrorist act in order to establish a surveillance system that essentially gives him more control, is indicative of the practices of many governments around the world, in a concept that unfortunately, is not restricted only to fundamentalist regimes. His racism, and the way he expresses it, is also indicative of the way it creeps into ‘normal” people, and is exploited by others. The way the PM reacts also moves in the same direction, while the role the police plays is also highlighted, although not in a particularly pointed way. Fumi and the activist group she attends is indicative of similar groups in Japan nowadays, but also shows why their impact is so miniscule. The fact that Kou is essentially drawn to the whole concept due to him liking Fumi can also be perceived as a comment on the aforementioned aspect. (Panos Kotzathanasis)
18. An Unfinished Film (Lou Ye, China)

What is wonderful about “An Unfinished Film” is how it uses technology to make us share these people’s points of view, relying to great effect on the smartphone screens that are everywhere in our daily lives. This is what many of us, to some extent, experienced during Covid after all, and few films have managed so well to convey what it was like to have one’s life and feelings filtered through and expressed by technology 24 hours a day. (Mehdi Achouche)
17. Didi (Sean Wang, Taiwan)

All in all, Sean Wang’s narrative feature is not innovative by any means. The story structure is typical; it lures its audience in with humor in the beginning, builds up the conflict, and brings it to a resolution at the end. “Dìdi (弟弟)” is, however, guaranteed to be a good time, especially for millennials who spent any amount of time online. The crowd-pleaser walked away with an Audience Award in US Dramatic Competition at Sundance, and small wonder. The film feels as deeply personal as it is universal – or, as Sean Wang referenced his own family in the Q&A: “Thank you, I’m sorry, and I love you.” (Grace Han)
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16. The Box Man (Gakuryu Ishii, Japan)

While the concept of the box man may seem similar to a peeping tom, in the novel and the film adaptation it becomes much more than that. As we are introduced to the way the central character perceives the world in the beginning, with his focus being on the various women who pass him by, we feel our understanding of this person is confirmed. However, with the support of the voice-over and Masatoshi Nagase’s committed performance, the box man turns into a commentator of the events of the outside world, from people’s behavior to relationships, which at times brings him closer to an online troll or hater. Given the absurd developments within the story, with characters from all strands of society becoming obsessed with the box man and the kind of freedom he enjoys, Ishii (as well as Abe) have come up with a poignant and quite funny portrayal not just of the phenomenon of the online troll, but also why the concept is so attractive to people. (Rouven Linnarz)
15. Chime (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, Japan)

Chime is a bomb that comes in a small package. A 45-minute sensual fare that explores the boundaries of what’s possible in contemporary horror movies. Kiyoshi Kurosawa takes a particularly post-pandemic approach to how people respond to the fears that came out after the period of unease and uncertainty that enveloped the world during the lockdown. Mutsuo Yoshioka’s layered performance as Matsuoka is an evolved form of a Kurosawa protagonist that embodies both the subject of fear and fear itself. (Epoy Deyto)
14. All The Long Nights (Sho Miyake, Japan)

The narrative builds in slow pace, allowing us to get to know the characters from inside out. Takatoshi remains more of a mystery as a man who, despite of his frequent visits to a medical specialist and being in a (so it seems) well functioning love relationship with career-driven girlfriend Chihiro (Haruka Imo), knows how to speak about his problems to someone who has entered his life only recently. But his true self seems to be constantly half-hidden between quotes and metaphors. (Marina Richter)
13. Stranger Eyes (Yeo Siew Hua, Singapore)

The comment here evidently revolves around the concept of seeing, although Yeo Siew Hua truly delves quite deeper than what we usually see from filmmakers dealing with the concept. The concept of voyeurism is the most evident one, but he definitely does not stop there. The meta approach, for example, emerges as rather intriguing. Usually, as viewers, we watch what is happening on the screen from our point of view, which is essentially what the DP and the director see when they are shooting the movie. In the case of “Stranger Eyes” though, this perspective is ‘twisted’ in what the protagonists actually see, in an approach that emerges as rather intelligent, particularly as it adds to the overall atmosphere of creepiness that permeates the movie. (Panos Kotzathanasis)
12. A Traveler’s Needs (Hong Sang-soo, S. Korea)

In his seventh film in three years, Hong Sang-soo tackles the topic of language barriers and teaching a language by a foreigner. In a humorous way, he seems to be critiquing the idea that just because someone is a native speaker of a certain language, they are also good at teaching it. Between elements typical for his works, like showing characters who drink a lot of alcohol (this time it’s Makgeolli, not Soju) and discuss their love life, he also presents how Koreans treat a foreigner: some with distrust, but some with ka ind of fascination or what one might call “reverse orientalism”, which is especially visible through the character of Inguk (Ha Seongguk) who offered Iris a place to stay, and seems to be infatuated by the simple fact that she is from “another world”. (Tobiasz Dunin)
11. Shambhala (Min Bahadur Bham, Nepal)

Through Pema’s lengthy journey, the director shows the patriarchal Nepalese culture, in which women have to defend their honour against accusations. There is no presumption of innocence here. It is an expedition not only in the literal sense, but more importantly, a spiritual one, as Pema gets to know herself better, and the people around her. By avoiding easy answers and judgments, Bham skilfully creates tension, which makes the film not only visually beautiful, but also emotionally engaging. (Tobiasz Dunin)