Possession (Andrzej Żuławski, 1981). Possession is a marvelously unhinged film that uses an acrimonious, disintegrating marriage as a springboard for all sorts of societal commentary and gruesome gooeyness. Mark (Sam Neill) and Anna (Isabelle Adjani) live in West Berlin, and their wedded union is shaky at best. Mark is distant and testy, side effects of his day job as an espionage agent, and Anna has taken up with a new paramour, leading her to ask for a divorce. Director Andrzej Żuławski, who wrote the screenplay with assistance from Frederic Tuten, probes their vicious discontent as he guides the pair through a procession of scenes that are gradually infested with harsh unreality. The intersecting anger and loneliness of the lead characters manifest in scenes of horror, especially as they effectively create more pliant doppelgängers of their former partners. At its most extreme, the dark drama plays out in the form of gristly, throbbing creatures that compare favorably with the disturbing feats of David Cronenberg in his prime. Adjani is utterly extraordinary in the film, tearing into scenes with a determination that somehow barrels past fearlessness into something even more recklessly daring.

Popeye (Robert Altman, 1980). This is probably the least of the great Robert Altman films, but I’m still prepared to call it a great Robert Altman film. I should probably concede that some personal nostalgia might be coloring that assessment. Even so, I can’t help but be charmed by Altman applying his trademark techniques — overlapping dialogue as the characters talk past each other rather than truly connecting, capturing all the contradictory sprawl of makeshift communities — to a story that’s meant to be suitable for kids. It’s like McCabe and Mrs. Miller as a Big Little Book. Although Altman opens Popeye with a brief clip of one the famed cartoons starring the sailor man (played here by Robin Williams), the film’s meandering narrative more accurately mirrors the cadence of a few months’ worth of E. C. Segar’s Thimble Theatre comic strips. The comedy and adventure lope along with an unhurried busyness. Altman fills each frame with incredible amounts of bustling energy. The film deserves extra plaudits for the inspired casting, led by the joyful, dazzling performance of Shelley Duvall as Olive Oyl. The supporting cast is strewn with actors doing similarly wonderful work, particularly Paul Dooley and Ray Walston.

Bring Her Back (Danny Philippou and Michael Philippou, 2025). The Philippou siblings definitely have a pronounced skill for instilling dread into their films. They also don’t shirk from letting their horror plots take the darkest of dark turns when logic dictates it. In Bring Her Back, Andy (Billy Barratt) and his younger sister, Piper (Sora Wong), are orphaned not long before Andy’s eighteenth birthday. Until he’s legally an adult, they need to go into the foster system, and they wind up under the care of Laura (Sally Hawkins). She initially comes across as odd but caring. Her behavior soon grows more disturbing, and she’s also caring for another boy (Jonah Wren Phillips) with his own creepy vibe. The film’s exploration of the trauma of grief is appropriately raw and has some real emotional heft. There are definitely a couple moments that tilt towards gratuitous in this film, undercutting its overall effectiveness. It would also be nice if their next outing didn’t rely on the shorthand shock of a child enduring intense violence. Between this film and its predecessor, Talk to Me, the Philippous have used that ploy enough.