FLOOD

Caleb Cordes provides a thoughtfully nuanced thesis statement for his heartland indie-rock project as he paints a portrait of an artist working under the long shadow of late capitalism.

Lee Isaac Chung’s blowsy sequel to the also-pretty-blowsy 1996 action hit has its moments, though those moments are usually the twisters.

Jeff Nichols’ new film inspired by the rugged late-’60s photography of Danny Lyon is little more than some guys looking really, really cool.

Recorded in a centuries-old pub in Ireland, the extensive third album from Josh Kaufman, Anaïs Mitchell, and Eric D. Johnson is a firm commitment to the bit as the trio perfects their chemistry.

Ishana Night Shyamalan’s debut feature is at its best when it embraces its own absurdity, yet often crumbles under its own weight.

John Rossiter subdues his experimental instincts for sweeping heartland rock on his boldly reflective seventh LP.

On the heels of 2021’s Drive My Car, the Japanese filmmaker takes a passive look at all the shit that inevitably flows downstream when capitalism disrupts community.

With Jane Schoenbrun’s new film about fandom and nostalgia getting a significant boost from its carefully curated soundtrack, King Woman’s Kris Esfandari and Florist’s Emily Sprague weigh in on the movie’s magic.

The passion and pain of the Italian filmmaker’s latest feature, Challengers, fits into a career-long obsession with these same themes.

Maya Bon and Ryan Albert’s second LP of lush indie-folk is warm and inviting as ever, though the album’s impressionistic storytelling tends to keep the listener at arm’s length.

A film about a violently fractured nation seems like an apt note for the ever-polarizing director to go out on.

Fusing absurdist parody with heartfelt confessional storytelling, Vera Drew’s litigation-defying trans coming-of-age story keeps its focus on the truth.

Dev Patel’s directorial debut lives up to the potential of its vague, vibey trailers while avoiding most of the pitfalls of its often-clunky genre.

The Seattle four-piece has never sounded so in-sync musically as they confront their past instincts to always go for the laugh.

From lyrics, to vocals, to collaborations, Katie Crutchfield continues to outdo herself in almost every facet of her alt-country compositions on her fully confident sixth album.

Chernobyl director Johan Renck’s new Netflix film strives for moody contemplation but succumbs to blackholes of logic.

There’s a comfort to Alynda Segarra’s eighth album which, with the help of a dream team of collaborators, feels like a deep exhale hardly present throughout their varied prior discography.

Noah Weinman’s instrumental reworking of his last LP is an exercise in creative constraint, making it both frustrating and understandable to find it not quite transcend its status as experimental oddity.

The UK-based songwriter’s latest album casts a shadow of danger, sadness, and self-loathing over the brash, queer sexiness of its 2019 predecessor.

Jake Johnson’s directorial debut may be a bold, entertaining spectacle, but it never quite coalesces into anything worth remembering.