Whether you're more inclined toward excellently acted B-movies like Unsane, thoughtful romance like After Louie, classic Hitchcock thrillers, or musicals like The Wizard of Oz, we've got your back. Find all of this weekend's noteworthy movies below, follow the links to see complete showtimes, tickets, and trailers, and, if you're looking for even more options, check out our complete movie times listings or our film events calendar.
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THURSDAY ONLY
Alfred Hitchcock's Britain: The Man Who Knew Too Much
Sure, with the exception of the modestly budgeted, black-and-white Psycho, Hitchcock is known for his lavishly Freudian Technicolor thrillers from the ‘50s and ‘60s. But the films he made in his native Britain are just as worthy of note—taut, intricate, their perversity more elaborately disguised. The first screening is The Man Who Knew Too Much—not the glossy American version with Doris Day, but the much sharper 1934 version with Peter Lorre. It's the only one of his films Hitchcock remade, and the earlier film is more fun. (Click through to see a classic chair fight scene.)
Seattle Art Museum
The Complete Metropolis
Cinema has two gigantic cities: One is called Blade Runner, directed by Ridley Scott; the other is called Metropolis, directed by Fritz Lang. The difference between these mighty cities? Metropolis happens before what Henri Lefebvre calls the “urban revolution.” Blade Runner happens long after it’s over. The citizens in Metropolis are ready to fight for their urban rights; the inhabitants of Blade Runner are too tired to fight. Metropolis marks the birth of who we are now. CHARLES MUDEDE
Ark Lodge Cinemas
November
Follow Estonian director Rainer Sarnet's vision across a hallucinatory black-and-white landscape of forests, mud, ancient churches, and huts in a sinister, alluring story of a wild peasant girl, Liina, who's determined to marry her fellow villager Hans. But Hans becomes fascinated with a visiting German baroness, and Liina resorts to witchcraft and other tricks to win him back. The love triangle is well played out and tragicomically poignant, but the film's real magnetism is in the bizarre side stories: the dead returning on All Hallow's Eve for some roasted chicken and sauna time; the ensouled puppets made of junk that the villagers use to pilfer from each other; the veneer of Christianity over stubborn pagan practices.
Grand Illusion
Update: Now held over and playing again on Sunday. Go see it.
Pushing Dead
The problem with a film like Pushing Dead is that any summary is bound to make it sound like a bummer. It isn't. The title also makes it sounds like a horror movie. It isn't that either. Dan, the central character, is an HIV-positive poet, but this isn't a depressing drama, because it's pretty clear that he isn't going to die. How he's going to keep paying for his meds is another matter, but Tom E. Brown's directorial debut is mostly about how to live with HIV. Not just how to get from day to day, but how to participate in the world (the San Francisco-based director has been HIV-positive for 33 years). This makes the casting of Psych's James Roday so counter-intuitive. An irrepressible mugger on that USA Network comedy-detective series, he has to tone it down here. Miraculously, he does. KATHY FENNESSY
Grand Illusion
The Shape of Water
The Shape of Water is strange, sweet, and wonderful, and easily the greatest film ever made about a mute cleaning lady who falls in love with an amphibious fish man. A fairy tale set in 1962, it finds Elisa (Sally Hawkins) working the graveyard shift at the Occam Aerospace Research Center—a cold institution that marks a time, del Toro says, “where America is looking forward. Everything [is] about the future... and here comes a creature from the most ancient past.” That creature—wide-eyed, gilled, and played with strength and inquisitiveness by Doug Jones—is imprisoned at Occam. Locked in a tank and chained in a pool, he’s prodded by a reverent scientist (Michael Stuhlbarg) and tortured by a dominating military man (Michael Shannon). When Elisa finds him, she recognizes a kindred spirit—and feels an attraction that’s met with varying degrees of enthusiasm from her dubious coworker Zelda (Octavia Spencer) and her artist neighbor, Giles (Richard Jenkins). Whether they’re human or... whatever the hell the creature is, The Shape of Water’s characters are played by some of the best actors working today—all of whom give whole-hearted, nuanced performances, anchoring a story that can feel bigger (and weirder) than life. The characters’ depth is reinforced by del Toro: his stories are marked by an earnest affinity for outcasts—which, in the falsely idealized America of the 1960s, includes the mute Elisa, the closeted Giles, and the Black Zelda. ERIK HENRIKSEN
AMC Seattle 10
FRIDAY ONLY
Arrival
Arrival is an ominous, thrumming, beautiful thing that starts out being about aliens who need a decoder ring. It ends up being about something quite different. Based on Ted Chiang’s 1998 short story “Story of Your Life,” with a screenplay adapted by Eric Heisserer, Arrival is about Big Things—and the manner in which Villeneuve gets to them, as his camera slowly traces structures and landscapes both familiar and strange, can’t help but surprise and impress. Arrival finds nuance and surprise in a way that not only echoes the nuance and surprise of language, but in a way that echoes other forms of communication, too—forms of communication that, like language, have the power to change how we feel and how we think. Visually and aurally remarkable, Arrival sometimes unfolds like a clever puzzle and other times like a raw-nerve thriller; throughout, with heart and wit, Heisserer and Villeneuve never lose sight of the film’s characters—creatures in a situation that’s weird and mournful, exciting and threatening. ERIK HENRIKSEN
Scarecrow Video
FRIDAY–SUNDAY
After Louie
Director Vincent Gagliostro draws from his past as an ACT UP activist for this occasionally didactic, if consistently engaging debut about one man's survivor's guilt over emerging unscathed from the AIDS crisis. Sam (Alan Cumming) is a middle-aged man who is all about the work. In this case, he's a visual artist toiling away on a film about a friend felled by AIDS, which entails replaying 20-year-old home videos, waxing nostalgic for the heady days of ACT UP, and failing to engage with the present. That starts to change when he meets Braeden (Zachary Booth from Keep the Lights On), a pretty twentysomething in an open relationship. Sam assumes he's a sex worker, and treats him accordingly. Braeden could use the money, so he takes it, but he's genuinely interested in Sam. He also challenges biases and prejudices around heteronormativity and feminization that Sam has never fully acknowledged. As an actor, Booth can't quite keep up with Cumming, but Braeden is likable in ways that the cynical Sam is not, so it evens out in the end. If Sam can be exasperating, he stands for every embittered activist who irritates everyone around them, but who really and truly helped to make the world a better place. KATHY FENNESSY
Grand Illusion
Back to Burgundy
The French import Back to Burgundy is a big, rather shameless slice of Oscar bait that also sports some interesting ideas about depicting sense memories. The story follows an Australian-based winemaker (Pio Marmaï) who returns to the family vineyard in France after a decade of estrangement. Faced with a whopping inheritance tax, he and his siblings (Ana Girardot and François Civil) must decide whether to sell off the most valuable plots, or fully commit to the day-to-day operations. Watching people work can be an underrated virtue in the movies, and director Cédric Klapisch brings an absorbing, tactile feel—grape stomping has rarely looked this ravishing—to the various nuts and bolts of the profession. Unfortunately, the increasing moments of downtime prove to be rather less engaging, trafficking in well-worn plot devices. Still, what ultimately lifts Back to Burgundy out of the genial crowd-pleasing doldrums is in how it handles its flashbacks, drifting between present day triggers and past events in novel, disarmingly fluid ways, sometimes within the very same shot. ANDREW WRIGHT
SIFF Cinema Uptown
Harold and Maude
The perfect date movie—and the ultimate May-December romance—about a death-obsessed young man who falls in love with an old woman (played by Ruth Gordon) who has a huge appetite for life. They meet at a series of strangers' funerals—they both like to attend, for different reasons—and go on a series of adventures.
Ark Lodge Cinemas
The Leisure Seeker
The Leisure Seeker was always going to be a hard sell. Italian director Paolo Virzì’s movie isn’t overly precious about the realities of aging, so there’s a lot of gross old people stuff that I can’t imagine anyone is overly fond of. And both of its lead characters—Ella (Helen Mirren), a preening, slightly dotty Southern belle, and John (Donald Sutherland), a Hemingway-obsessed English teacher in the late stages of Alzheimer’s—initially come across as grating. To be fair, that’s how old people often are, but Virzì’s tin ear for naturalistic American dialogue certainly doesn’t help. But stick with The Leisure Seeker and you’ll be rewarded with something special, as Mirren and Sutherland begin filling in the pieces of their characters’ lives—obliquely at first, then in foggy but affectionate reminiscences and teary revelations. We begin to see the complex course of their lives—as lovers, as parents, as friends, as spouses—through the dimming window of their failing memories and bodies. BEN COLEMAN
AMC Seattle 10 & Meridian 16
Souvenir
The superb ermine-like actor Isabelle Huppert is worth seeing in practically anything, so even if critics have generally bemoaned the predictable plot of Souvenir—about a pâté factory worker whose hot new young co-worker urges her to resume her long-lost pop star career—Francophiles may want to take a look.
SIFF Film Center
Tehran Taboo
In this richly colored rotoscope-animation by Ali Soozandeh, an Iranian expatriate in Germany, a cross-section of men and women in Tehran navigate draconian, hypocritically applied Islamic law in their search for sex, freedom, and excitement. A judge solicits sex from a prostitute he's meant to sentence; the wife of a drug addict is prevented from getting a divorce; a young woman seeks an operation to disguise her lack of virginity.
Grand Illusion
Wild at Heart
Anyone can spot the Wizard of Oz resonances, but there’s plenty more American iconography being vivisected in David Lynch’s violent, sexy, hilarious, disjointed, long, essential 1990 gem—road movies, rock ’n’ roll (Elvis, specifically), juvenile delinquency, Tennessee Williams, James M. Cain, and many other late-20th century fixtures are stirred up in the film’s dust. Made as the floodwaters of the Twin Peaks TV phenomenon were starting to roll back, Wild at Heart is maybe the only one of Lynch’s imperial-phase works (as in: pre-Inland Empire and not counting Dune) to get away from him a little, partly because he loses interest in the plot about 10 minutes in. Still, it spills over with his ingenious, incomparable texture and language—Sailor: “Did I ever tell you that this here jacket represents a symbol of my individuality, and my belief in personal freedom?” Lula: “About 50,000 times”—in the service of a complex dialogue with the artistic value and peril of constraints. It also has the last truly great Nicolas Cage performance, and the first truly great Laura Dern one. It’s shocking to remember that this flawed-but-incredible document was once considered shocking. It’s also amazing to recall how new Lynch movies used to be major cultural events that people would line up to see. Wild at Heart is great evidence for both why that was and why it is no longer. SEAN NELSON
Central Cinema
The Wizard of Oz
At the end of this American cultural institution (we can no longer call it just a movie), which is made from the stuff of nightmares, Dorothy—the institution’s hero, and a girl from the middle of America, Kansas—throws water on the old Wicked Witch. This witch, who has a green face, begins to melt. As the witch disintegrates into a steaming puddle, she says to Dorothy and God and the universe: “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!! You cursed brat! Look what you’ve done!! I’m melting, melting. Ohhhhh, what a world, what a world.” As much as I hate the witch, these words break my heart every time. There is no normal parent who has not been in a situation when they wanted to say exactly that to their stupid child. CHARLES MUDEDE
Central Cinema
SATURDAY ONLY
Saturday Secret Matinees
Grand Illusion and the Sprocket Society will continue their tradition of pairing an adventure serial with a different secret matinee movie every week. This year, the serial is Flash Gordon Conquers the Universe, and the theme of the feature film will change every fortnight (maybe they stole the idea from the Stranger's new printing schedule. Though probably not). The remaining theme is "Widescreen Thrills." The coolest part, from a film buff point of view? Everything will be presented on 16mm.
Grand Illusion
SATURDAY–SUNDAY
They Remain
Flip through a few recent Best of Horror collections at random, and you’re likely to hit a healthy smattering of Laird Barron. Barron, who sets many of his stories in the Northwest, is a ferocious talent, specializing in an upsetting, lysergic melding of two-fisted adventure scenarios and slithering Lovecraftian remnants. They Remain, the first filmed take on the author’s work, manages to replicate a gratifying amount of that distinctive vibe, infusing the story with large doses of free-form agoraphobic anxiety. It lingers. Adapting Barron’s novella -30-, the plot follows a pair of researchers (William Jackson Harper and Rebecca Henderson) conducting long-term environmental research on a remote, instrument-confounding patch of wilderness. The fact that the land once housed a Manson-like death cult may account for at least a few of the bumps in the night. ANDREW WRIGHT
Grand Illusion
SUNDAY ONLY
Ponyo
You can pretty much guarantee that anything with Hayao Miyazaki’s name attached to it will be superbly wrought, fantastically animated, and delivered with a fine dose of poignant storytelling. He has left a fine legacy of films in his (no longer retired, for now) wake, including Ponyo, which has its 10-year anniversary this year and is being celebrated in a series of screening events across the country. This anime fantasy is loosely based on The Little Mermaid (Hans Christian Andersen’s version, not Disney’s), about an austere, potentially malevolent warlock/sea king whose young amphibious daughter runs (swims) away from her home. Sosuke, the little boy who scoops her from the waves, believes she’s a goldfish, names her Ponyo, and introduces her to a small slice of his world before her father finds her and brings her back to their underwater kingdom. But Ponyo’s taste of food and friendship fuels her next escape, setting off a chain of events that will change her (and Sosuke) forever. This film gets me choked up every time. LEILANI POLK
AMC Pacific Place
Step
Recall Hoop Dreams, the 1994 documentary about two black American teenagers who dream of becoming pro-ballers and making millions. Step is not like that. Though having the same urban and class setting as Hoop Dreams (this time Baltimore and not Chicago), these black American teenagers are not dreaming of fame or riches. There are no such illusions for them. Their goals are more realistic: graduate from high school, get into college, obtain a degree, and secure stable employment. As for step dancing (which is not really at the center of the documentary), it provides pleasure, discipline, and a way to discharge a lot of inner-city pressure. Life for these young women is not easy at home or in the classroom. Sometimes there’s no food in the fridge; other times, homelessness is one unpaid bill away. The documentary is straightforward and powerful. CHARLES MUDEDE
Scarecrow Video
ALL WEEKEND
Annihilation
Annihilation could squeeze into just about any label you give it: a horror film; a science-fiction flick that toys with the possibility of extraterrestrial life; a wilderness adventure; a romantically yearning character study; a chilling, painfully suspenseful mystery; a “message” film about either the environment or male toxicity, depending on where you feel like directing your anger; an abstract, allegorical art piece with long stretches of dialogue-free visuals. The most accurate label is probably just to call it an Alex Garland film. After his stunning 2015 debut as director, Ex Machina, and now the gorgeous, terrifying, and spellbinding Annihilation, we’re starting to get a sense of what that is. These are films that use the tools of genre—science fiction and horror, predominantly—to explore the liminal space between what is human and what isn’t. Annihilation is the best kind of cinematic experience, one that floods the senses without battering them into submission, and one that moves the mind and heart without manipulating them. It’s a staggering thing to witness. NED LANNAMANN
Various locations
Black Panther
Because I do not want to spoil the experience of this movie, I will not describe the path of the film's plot to its core problem, which concerns the unification of black Africa with black America. Out of a comic book, director Ryan Coogler crafted an important concept about how, from the unification, a post-pan-Africanist global Africanism can emerge. It comes down to this: black Africans and black Americans have to admit their respective failings. (My feeling is that Coogler is much harder on black Americans than black Africans.) As a whole, Black Panther is lots of fun and will excite a lot of discussion and strong opinions. But the most revolutionary thing about Black Panther is its city. The capital of Wakanda has skyscrapers, a monorail, sidewalks of grass, green buildings, farmers markets, and no cars. The whole idea of private transportation is foreign to this fictional society. If this black African capital has anything to share with the world, it's its city planning. CHARLES MUDEDE
Various locations
Call Me by Your Name
Recently, The Stranger published a review of this film by noted heterosexual Sean Nelson, who couldn’t seem to shake his impression that Armie Hammer had never been near another man’s penis in his life. That may be, but focusing on that fact is beside the point, because the film holds out the possibility that these two characters (whom we also see having sex with women) are simply, inexplicably attracted to each other, “identity” be damned. Maybe they’re even straight, and it was just a charge in the air, a tension that had to be resolved, a mystery. This movie is a masterpiece and you should see it before Timothée Chalamet wins his Oscar. CHRISTOPHER FRIZZELLE
Meridian 16 & Varsity Theatre
The Death of Stalin
From Armando Iannucci, the creator of Veep, and more importantly, the vastly superior British politics TV series The Thick of It (and the film it inspired, In the Loop) comes a film, The Death of Stalin, that recognizes that farce, not tragedy, is the operative mode of true fascism. At least in retrospect. This is one of the grimmest, most harrowing films to ever make you double over with laughter. The heavyweight cast includes Steve Buscemi (as Khruschev), Michael Palin (as Molotov), and Jeffrey Tambor (as Malenkov), all of whom prostrate themselves to appear devoted to the regime while frantically tap dancing for their own survival—and eventual seizing of power. They are abetted in their machinations by UK eminences like Andrea Riseborough, Paddy Considine, Simon Russell Beale, and Roger Ashton-Griffiths. There’s no missing the present day resonances in the depictions of a regime that is both totally corrupt and plainly mediocre, but Iannucci is keen to remind you that the distance between even a toad like Trump and Stalin—who ordered the actual murder of approximately 60 million of his own comrade countrymen—is important to remember. But if the best thing you can say about a leader is that he isn’t exactly Josef Stalin, well… This film’s grave, absurd, brilliant, and brutal historical context has a way of making the future look, if not hopeful, then at least familiar. SEAN NELSON
SIFF Cinema Egyptian
A Fantastic Woman
A trans woman and an older man fall rapturously in love—but he dies suddenly during their torrid night together. The bereaved Marina struggles to maintain equilibrium and dignity in the face of her lover's intolerant family. This film by Sebastián Lelio is an Oscar winner and has won a jury prize, a Silver Berlin Bear, and a Teddy at the Berlinale, as well as numerous other awards and nominations. And—for once in an Oscar-winning movie—the film boasts an actual trans woman, Daniela Vega, in the role of a trans woman.
SIFF Cinema Uptown
Flower
Flower announces its outrageousness in its very first scene, which finds rebellious teen Erica (Zoey Deutch) giving a cop a blowjob at a scenic overlook of the San Fernando Valley. When he refuses to pay her in full, Erica’s best friends (Maya Eshet and Dylan Gelula) storm his cruiser, filming the compromising situation with their phones while Erica explains, “We’re not taking you to court—we’re just taking your money." The girls consider themselves rebels with a cause, delivering vigilante justice and profiting off the unsuspecting creeps in their suburban hamlet—at least when they’re not chugging Slurpees, playing arcade games, and ogling “hot old guy” Will (Adam Scott) at the local bowling alley. Director Max Winkler (spawn of the Fonz!) co-wrote Flower’s script with Alex McAulay and Matt Spicer, the man behind last year’s Ingrid Goes West. For Flower, it seems like the trio sourced inspiration from the whip-smart dialogue of Juno, the maximalist dude-bro humor of Superbad, and feminist rhetoric they clearly do not understand. Still, I’ll admit I laughed myself hoarse and even shed some tears. That’s all thanks to Deutch—she’s like a rainbow, and without her, I doubt director Winkler could’ve pulled off the film’s chameleonic transformation from dark comedy to neo-noir to road movie to millennial romance. CIARA DOLAN
Meridian 16 & AMC Seattle 10
Game Night
On the upside: Sharon Horgan has a small part in a halfway decent, big-budget Hollywood comedy! And so does Lamorne Morris! And hey, there’s Kylie Bunbury! They’re part of an overachieving supporting cast that makes the perfunctory Game Night a much better movie than it should have been. The comedy-movie genre is probably in its worst shape ever, so when Game Night achieves the bare minimum—making you laugh—it’s downright refreshing. The plot, not that it matters, involves Jason Bateman and Rachel McAdams and a group of friends trying to solve a puzzle mystery that may or may not include Bulgarian gangsters, Fabergé eggs, and the kidnapping of Bateman’s brother (Kyle Chandler). Is it all a game? Is any of it real? I 100 percent guaran-fucking-tee you will not care. Look—Game Night isn’t worth a lot of deep thought, and it’s not going to provoke any type of cultural conversation. But it’s got some laughs, and that feels like a lot right now. NED LANNAMANN
Various locations
I, Tonya
Tonya Harding was considered a freak, even though she was arguably the most technically skilled skater of her time. In the wake of the infamous 1994 attack on Nancy Kerrigan (which she may or may not have had a hand in), Harding was further ostracized, transformed by the nascent 24-hour news cycle into a white-trash demoness—so it’s important that any fictional depiction of her life acknowledge that she was also a real person who suffered. I, Tonya, is a solid attempt, largely thanks to Margot Robbie’s portrayal of a very human, very sympathetic Tonya. Without sugarcoating Harding’s personality (which could be caustic) or her tragic life (which was full of abuse and abandonment), I, Tonya tells a familiar story of a woman whose life was ruined by hapless, cruel men and sexist gatekeeping. It has been criticized for its stylized, darkly comic depiction of abuse, but it’s also one of the only portrayals I’ve seen that presents Harding as a person, and that acknowledges she was abused. It’s hard not to root for her in the film—she's a talented weirdo surrounded by bad men, whose raw determination can’t be blunted by an equally abusive and narcissistic mother (an excellent, unnerving Allison Janney) who teaches her to conflate being loved with being hit. It’s impossible not to empathize with Harding, and to imagine what her career and life might have looked like had she been able to make a clean break from her abusive family. MEGAN BURBANK
AMC Pacific Place
Leaning Into the Wind: Andy Goldsworthy
Leaning into the Wind is the second documentary film—following River and Tide—about artist and environmentalist Andy Goldsworthy. Goldsworthy is famously known for his temporal and site-specific installations made from natural materials. I will admit that a documentary is a hard sell; but a documentary about art? That’s even harder. But Goldsworthy’s work belongs on film the same way Planet Earth belongs in an IMAX theatre. Everything about this, from the opening credits to the final 10 minutes, is captivating. The scenery and sculptures are beautifully shot and every inch is scored with killer audio. LEAH ST. LAWRENCE
Northwest Film Forum
Love, Simon
If you're one of those people who only reads the first sentences of movie reviews, here you go: Love, Simon is FANTASTIC, and you should see it IMMEDIATELY. The best thing about it is Simon himself: A clever, kind kid with a loving family and good friends, he's having a hell of a time figuring out how—or if—he should come out. Not many YA protagonists feel as real as Simon, regardless of whether he's going through great stuff or drama. Simon's great stuff includes: a secret e-mail relationship with Blue, another closeted kid at his school. Simon doesn't know who Blue really is, and Blue doesn't know who Simon really is, but through hesitantly typed e-mails, the two find the beginnings of a relationship that's inspiring and complicated. Simon's drama includes: his dipshit classmate Martin, who stumbles onto his e-mails with Blue–and threatens to share them with everyone if Simon doesn't do what he says. Love, Simon thrums with heightened emotions, but it never feels false or silly; Greg Berlanti's smart enough to treat these kids like real, complicated people, and the result is a movie that feels both truthful and ridiculously engaging. ERIK HENRIKSEN
Various locations
Loveless
Ciara Dolan, Portland Mercury reviewer, really did not enjoy Loveless, which she called "two hours of watching a divorcing couple argue viciously and search Moscow for their missing son, who they were considering putting in an orphanage anyway, while apocalyptic news broadcasts about the conflict in Ukraine play in the background." This is accurate, and the film will no doubt be incredibly bleak. However, it's also made by one of the most important European directors working today, the dissident Andrey Zvyagintsev, and it's won or been nominated for tons of awards, including the Jury Prize at Cannes. So if you've got a soul made of pure emotional muscle and don't mind crying, go.
SIFF Cinema Uptown
Oh Lucy!
The life of a 55-year-old Japanese “office lady,” Setsuko, suddenly changes when she gets a blond wig from her American English teacher, John. The teacher also gives Setsuko a new name: Lucy. This is cultural immersion. This is how John rolls. Setsuko also follows the teacher to Los Angeles. Directed by Atsuko Hirayanagi, Oh Lucy! stars the great Kaori Momoi, who is actually 65 and has worked with the giants of Japanese cinema: Akira Kurosawa, Kon Ichikawa, and Shohei Imamura. It is not a surprise that the director of this film is a fan of Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation. The strong impression it left on her certainly inspired Oh Lucy!, her first feature film. CHARLES MUDEDE
SIFF Cinema Uptown
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri
One way you know a film is written by a playwright is when everything everyone says in it is clever and wise and perfect. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, written and directed by Martin McDonagh, never fails on this score. The dialogue, particularly when given life by actors Frances McDormand and Sam Rockwell, is hilarious and provocative. But the biggest indicator that you're watching the work of a playwright is the sense that there's no way the story is what the film is really about. The three billboards in Three Billboards are signifiers and catalysts, but they're also red herrings (literally red, in fact). The billboards are taken out by Mildred (McDormand) as a way to publicly shame Ebbing's police chief (Woody Harrelson) for having failed to catch the man who raped and murdered her daughter. They also keep her grief alive and present tense. McDonagh depicts graphic violence and hateful language flippantly, in a style people like to call Tarantinoesque. But McDonagh is not a shock artist, not satisfied milking the disjunction of liking the bad cop or the mean lady. He's making the case that humans are complex, that "sympathetic" is relative, and that whatever horrible things people are capable of doing to each other (and they are indeed horrible), we still have to live together when we're done. SEAN NELSON
Varsity Theatre & Meridian 16
Unsane
The news that Steven Soderbergh filmed Unsane in secret, on an iPhone, feels almost inevitable. The 55-year-old filmmaker has a history of experimenting with technology and messing with viewers’ expectations, and it only takes a few minutes of Unsane to understand why he chose to use the tiny lens of a smartphone to create this taut new thriller. Soderbergh uses voyeuristic closeups to tell the tale of Sawyer, a lonely, driven young woman with an acidic streak played by The Crown’s Claire Foy. Every detail—Sawyer’s expressive eyes, her freckled skin, the strings of saliva that emerge between her lips in her most emotionally fraught moments—becomes unavoidable and unsettling this close. The victim of a stalker in her former hometown, Sawyer still sees the face of the man who pursued her. Wisely seeking counseling, she inadvertently commits herself to a cruelly understaffed mental health institution that takes advantage of insurance loopholes to hold her for seven days. Foy does a remarkable job keeping us focused on her plight, even as she remains an almost entirely unreliable and unlikable protagonist. While that element of Unsane rubs rough against the film’s subtext of a woman’s voice and story being ignored or doubted, it doesn’t take away from the film’s creeping, fascinating dread. ROBERT HAM
AMC Seattle 10 & AMC Pacific Place
A Wrinkle In Time
A Wrinkle in Time is an engrossing fantasy about a teenage girl, Meg, who—despite her anxieties and faults, and with the help of some friends and three extra-dimensional beings named Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, and Mrs. Which—embarks on a cross-dimensional adventure to save her missing father from a terrifying monster of darkness and conformity named IT. Disney’s new blockbuster isn’t the A Wrinkle in Time I read as a child. Director Ava DuVernay (Selma, 13th) has updated the story and placed it squarely in the now: There’s an extended roller coaster-esque flight scene over otherworldly landscapes, a multiracial cast, instructions for self-care, and Oprah. DuVernay doesn’t cut the weird without adding wonder. Her update to the three Mrs. W’s is particularly spectacular. Rather than the beak-nosed ladies they were in the book, these Mrs. W’s are luminous, ever-changing chameleons in couture gowns. There’s an informal pairing off—one child for each extra-dimensional being—and Mrs. Which (Oprah Winfrey) is predictably charged with the anxious Meg (Storm Reid), who, like many of Oprah’s followers, just needs a little boost of self-confidence before she’s ready to stand up to a universe-devouring evil. SUZETTE SMITH
Various locations
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