Céline Sciamma turns to period drama with this elegant meditation on female desire that flips the script on the male gaze.

Albert Serra’s film has a strange, almost hypnotic pull, while turning its watchers into complicit voyeurs.

For New Yorkers attending the NYFF, it’s almost like going to the Cannes Film Festival, but without the jetlag, the exchange rate, and the overpriced accommodations.

Kantemir Balagov’s extraordinary second film opens in postwar Leningrad, where survivors are still reeling from the devastation.

An arresting and alarming documentary scrutinizes racism on the football field and throughout Australian culture, as experienced by one of the country’s star players.

If Portugal becomes overrun with tourists, blame can go to director Ira Sachs’s new drama.

Ken Loach returns to TIFF with a film that is, in many ways, as strong and less predictable than I, Daniel Blake, which won the Palme D’Or, and Toronto-based Semi Chellas adapts author Susan Choi’s fictionalized take of Patty Hearst on the lam.

The festival can boast of its own discovery, the world premiere of director Diana Peralta’s debut film, a family drama of regret and remembrance.

An intriguing film that introduces viewers to a cutting-edge new science without ever losing sight of the human aspect.