FLOOD

In their return to directing, Phil Lord and Christopher Miller manage to turn Andy Weir’s 500-page best-seller about the scientific method into a compelling IMAX epic.

Produced by Jeff Tweedy, Max Clarke’s fourth album tampers down the luster of past records, grounding aspects of the indie-folk songwriter’s music that once seemed impossibly pristine.

The songwriter and actress discusses going solo two decades into her music career and previews her new album’s single “Heartbreak City” for a “Neighborhoods” session outside the soon-to-be-demolished Taix French Restaurant in Los Angeles.

Well-observed, a bit absurd, and wholly singular, this “hobo stew” permits each instrument and each musical idea to embrace Callahan’s discursive lyrical and structural style.

The seven-piece rockers’ latest record serves as a sonic wayback machine to a moment when rock ’n’ roll was nothing more than a good time.

With Dead Man’s Wire in theaters, we look back on the filmmaker’s history of taking a unique approach to thorny material pulled from real-life news headlines.

It’s the way that Clint Bentley shows the subject’s entire life—in moments rather than scenes, in swirling Malick-esque vignettes—that engulfs the viewer.

Whether or not it represents John Darnielle’s earnest Broadway aspirations, the indie-folk band’s 23rd LP stands out for its amped-up orchestration and sweeping grandeur.

The cosmic Ohio band’s sprawling fifth album represents the best of the late-’00s indie-folk scene, with Zac Little proving that he very much earns his suspenders.

With the delusional male figure taking center stage in the writer/director’s ninth film, we get to the bottom of what exactly is wrong with all of these goddamn men.

Mike Figgis’ under-the-hood look at Francis Ford Coppola’s bizarro epic Megalopolis is a documentary that doesn’t know what it wants to be about a movie that didn’t know what it wanted to be.

Ditching the homespun folk-rock sound of their last record for otherworldly, jazz-infused transmissions, the group’s sixth LP is obsessed with the beauty and inefficiency of language.

Digging into the all-encompassing allegory, obsession, and physical and psychological beatings of the director’s near-30-year career—and how Caught Stealing struggles to fit into all of that.

Rooted in the horrors of our familiar pre-apocalypse, writer/director Julian Glander’s animated film blends the simple charms of an 8-bit video game with sketch-comedy chaos.

Defined by its air thick with hopeful yearning, the Oakland-based songwriter continues to find comfort in doing things on her own with her fifth album.

The filmmaker discusses his multiple approaches to profiling Stephen Malkmus, the “inscrutable” figure at the center of his new project.

Padded out with a personal essay, family photos, and outtakes, this re-release of Stevens’ album-length eulogy permits yet another return to the 1980s Oregon of the artist’s memory.

With his directorial debut, Andrew DeYoung answers the question of whether Tim Robinson’s familiar comedic formula can be sustained over the course of a feature film.

Joel Potrykus’ bleak buddy comedy is perhaps his most compelling work yet for how big a hole he’s willing to blow in his characters’ flimsy facades.

Backed by the incredible team he’s assembled over the years, Mike Hadreas’ seventh release is a folk album that remains as slippery, electrifying, and brilliantly unknowable as its lead single.