After watching Christy Hall’s Daddio earlier this year and Halina Reijn’s Babygirl out this month, it’s clear that Hollywood has moved on from #metoo to conventional passion and eroticism in filmmaking.

After all the controversy over sexism, sexuality and power imbalances, one would assume female writers and directors would fully embrace the female gaze and make use of the collective step forward in our cultural narrative.

But both Daddio and now Babygirl make me feel like the opposite is happening — that women behind the camera are enabling the male gaze instead. And its not even in a satirical way either, but more of a resigned acceptance, strangely enough.

Twenty-five years following Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut (1999), Nicole Kidman returns to erotic drama with Babygirl as protagonist Romy Mathis, the CEO of a major tech-based corporation in contemporary New York City. At work and at home, she’s a successful and dedicated businesswoman, wife and mother.

But in private, she wishes that she could fulfill her sexual desires. When one of the new interns, confident and attractive Samuel (Harris Dickinson), shows an interest in Romy, she thinks he might be able to understand her needs in bed in ways her husband, playwright Jacob (Antonio Banderas), doesn’t.

Esther-Rose McGregor and Vaughan Reilly play Romy’s young daughters, and Sophie Wilde co-stars as her dedicated colleague.

In the promotion fo Babygirl, I was surprised Reijn didn’t name Jane Campion or Sofia Coppola as directors who have influenced her work, and mostly listed the more infamous male filmmakers of the 1980s erotic thrillers, like Paul Verhoeven, Brian De Palma and Adrian Lyne. But after watching Babygirl, it makes sense. There is virtually no message or theme to the film other than “giving into your immoral temptations might lead to consequences.”

None of the characters are interesting or likeable enough to follow for two hours, let alone deserve being redeemed by the end. Decisions by the characters are overly convenient to move the plot along, and the lack of male nudity compared to the graphic female nudity is distracting, especially from a film being marketed as erotica “for women.”

It feels like Reijn just enjoys shooting provocative sequences and not much else. It isn’t even that sexy or shocking. It left me wondering, “What’s the point? Some people can’t help being horny?” You could just go back and watch Campion’s The Piano (1993), Verhoeven’s Basic Instinct (1992) or Lawrence Kasdan’s Body Heat (1981) again if you want effective, well-executed eroticism in cinema.

Most disappointing to me are the two leads of Babygirl, both generally talented and mesmerizing, who have been better in other films. I felt Banderas was also wasted and underwritten as the perplexed, devoted husband.

Babygirl has an interesting plot and good cast, but it’s eroticism ultimately leads nowhere.

A month before our December awards vote, the Los Angeles Film Critics Assn. launches a group email thread for members to advocate for their favorite films and standout work. The idea is to help everyone close any gaps in our viewing as we plow through screeners and links in a hopeless attempt to see everything before we vote.

Sometimes the discussion veers into other areas, often focusing on whether a particular performance should be considered lead or supporting. Who’s the true lead in “Emilia Pérez,” Karla Sofía Gascón playing Emilia Pérez, the character that drives the narrative, or Zoe Saldaña, who has the most screen time as the attorney helping her? Or are they co-leads? Netflix doesn’t think so, campaigning Gascón in lead and Saldaña in supporting. (It should be noted that these decisions are made with the actor and their teams.)

You could argue that Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande should be considered co-leads of “Wicked” too. But the musical is really Elphaba’s story, with Grande’s Glinda along for the ride as her best frenemy. So Universal pushing Erivo in lead and Grande for supporting doesn’t seem egregious.

And what about Kieran Culkin going supporting for “A Real Pain,” an odd-couple road movie about two cousins, played by Culkin and the movie’s writer-director, Jesse Eisenberg, traveling to Poland to visit the childhood home of their late grandmother? Culkin has almost as much screen time as Eisenberg, but the story is told from the point of view of Eisenberg’s character. (Same with Saldaña, which is why, for some, her placement has raised eyebrows.)

At our L.A. Film Critics vote, we tackled lead performance first, and Culkin came close to making the final round. Supporting came next, and it was immediately clear that even the people who thought Culkin was a lead weren’t going to be deterred from voting for him, and he won the award with Yura Borisov from “Anora.” A publicist friend texted me afterward: “That’s where Culkin belongs. If you gave him lead, you’d be saying that he was trying to pull a fast one by going supporting.”

Where he belongs remains up to Oscar voters, who don’t have to follow the studio’s suggested placement. And on rare occasions, they haven’t. The Weinstein Co. campaigned Kate Winslet in supporting actress for “The Reader” at the 2009 Oscars, looking to avoid competing with her lead turn opposite Leonardo DiCaprio in “Revolutionary Road.” The Golden Globes and SAG Awards nominated Winslet for supporting, but film academy members put her in lead. And Winslet wound up winning the Oscar. (She made a point of not thanking Weinstein in her acceptance speech.)

It’s hard to see voters making such a category shift with Culkin or Saldaña or Grande this year. Who might be joining them in the supporting categories? Let’s take a quick look.

SUPPORTING ACTOR

Owing to his excellent work — and all that screen time — playing a charmer whose exuberance masks a deep inner turmoil, Culkin has been dominating the season’s early awards. Borisov could join him as a nominee for his soulful performance as the brooding Russian henchman in “Anora,” though it’s fair to wonder if his work might be too subtle for a branch that tends to reward “most” instead of best.

If you’re looking for “most,” Denzel Washington has got you covered and then some for “Gladiator II.” He’s clearly having the time of his life, and his exuberance (and the sharks!) made the movie well worth our time. Another actor clearly enjoying himself is Edward Norton playing folk singer Pete Seeger in “A Complete Unknown.” Norton leans into Seeger’s folksiness but also weaves in a manipulative streak as we see Seeger trying to keep Bob Dylan (Timothée Chalamet) in the activist movement. He’s every bit as good as Chalamet.

Nobody has a better story among the supporting actor contenders than Clarence Maclin, who went from Sing Sing to “Sing Sing,” and he’s a marvel playing an inmate initially reluctant to participate in the prison theater program. Maclin should be winning more awards, but the movie just hasn’t found a big enough audience.

That’s five, but there are others in the hunt. Jeremy Strong is at the top of his game (as always) playing Roy Cohn in “The Apprentice.” Stanley Tucci brings his delicious snark to “Conclave.” And there’s Peter Sarsgaard and John Magaro, two members of the excellent “September 5” ensemble that, like “His Three Daughters,” is hampered because everyone’s so good. How do you single anyone out?

SUPPORTING ACTRESS

This Oscar race will come down to a battle between Saldaña and Grande, thanks to the screen time, the quality of their work and the fact that this has been a strangely thin year for supporting women. If I were voting, I’d check off Natasha Lyonne, Carrie Coon and Elizabeth Olsen from “His Three Daughters,” alongside Grande and Saldaña, and call it a day. Though I would be tempted to find room for Margaret Qualley, so good as Demi Moore‘s younger half in “The Substance.”

There’s been a lot of justified praise for Danielle Deadwyler’s performance in “The Piano Lesson,” playing a woman determined to deal with her family’s past in her own way — and not according to her brother’s wishes. After being overlooked two years ago for “Till,” Deadwyler makes a clear case for her first nomination. Felicity Jones also is looking to break through as an Oscar nominee, and her work as the strong-willed wife in the second half of “The Brutalist” has put her in the conversation.

Then there are Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor and Isabella Rossellini, making big impressions in a small amount of time. Rossellini has never been nominated and is in “Conclave” for less than eight minutes. But she has one great scene (that curtsy!) that often generates applause at screenings. Voters remember that. Ellis-Taylor, meanwhile, brings a palpable heartache to “Nickel Boys” as a devoted grandmother sidelined by inequality and avarice.

Finally, there’s Selena Gomez playing a drug cartel boss’ wife in “Emilia Pérez,” delivering a showstopping song and adding an interesting ambiguity to her character. Gomez has been called out for her Spanish in the film, but that feels like nitpicking in a movie where absurdity often feels like the principle.

Historical fiction is what’s happening at the movies this week, with a side serving of current events in two more features. The big, plush beach-read epic among them is The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas’ adventure classic being given an extravagant new three-hour visualization by the French writing-directing team of Matthieu Delaporte and Alexandre de La Patelliere. Pierre Niney of Frantz and Yves Saint Laurent plays Edmond Dantes, a sailor of humble origin made good, until a jealous rival has him framed as an agent of the exiled Napoleon. Years later, he escapes an island prison and poses as a wealthy foreigner to insinuate himself into the worlds of the three men (Bastien Bouillon, Laurent Lafitte, Patrick Mille) who’d orchestrated his fate—and have profited from more crimes since.

Even with its narrative somewhat altered and compacted from Dumas’ sprawling original (which was first published as a serial between 1844-46), this remains a flamboyantly old-fashioned tale of credulity-stretching intrigue and coincidence. We seldom see its like on the big screen anymore—or maybe we do, but these days it’s more likely to take the overtly fantastical form of a Batman movie or the like. This lavish production does not shy from going over-the-top in its ostentatious settings, flashy drone shots or bombastic orchestral score. Still, it all pretty much works, particularly once the elaborate revenge scheme kicks in around mid-point.

It’s period popcorn entertainment on a grand scale, no less enjoyable for being more than a bit theatrically shameless. The Count of Monte Cristo begins opening around the Bay Area on January 3; likely SF venues (not yet confirmed at presstime) were the AMC Kabuki and Metreon.

As strikingly bleak in its handsome B&W austerity as The Count is eye-candy colorful, The Girl With the Needle from Danish director Magnus von Horn (whose prior Sweat we reviewed here) weaves fictional elements around a shocking criminal case from a century ago. In 1919 Copenhagen, Karoline (Vic Carmen Sonne) is a clothing-factory seamstress whose husband hasn’t come back from WWI service, and may well be dead. She is seduced by her wealthy boss (Jorgen Fjelstrup), but any dreams of a wealthy, stable future with him get squelched by a first/last meeting with his imperious mother.

Now pregnant and desperate, with legal abortion not an option, Karoline finds herself aided by a stranger met by chance. Middle-aged Dagmar (Trine Dyrholm) seems to be in the business of helping just such poor young women, and placing their unwanted children in “good homes.” But it is not until she’s become an integral part of Dagmar’s ongoing operation that Karoline realizes her benefactress is secretly a monster—a sort of matricidal equivalent to Sweeney Todd. It is that figure who’s based on a real-life one, her trial leading to major changes in child-protective laws; and the formidable Dyrholm is impressive as always in the role.

But primary focus here is on fictive Karoline, who is not very interesting or even terribly sympathetic. The facts on record are so much more powerful than what von Horn chooses to portray, his choices end up seeming rather inscrutable, despite the film’s compelling atmosphere and aesthetics. It’s an arresting exercise in many respects that nonetheless proves somewhat frustrating. Girl opens Fri/3 at SF’s Roxie, with other Bay Area venues to follow.

Taking place a few years earlier on the far opposite ends of Eurasia is Harbin from South Korean writer-director Woo Min-ho, of prior hit political thrillers Inside Men and The Man Standing Next. It’s set in 1909, four years after a multinational treaty forced Korea to basically become a colony of Japan following the latter’s winning the Russo-Japanese War. Abandoned by allies (including the US), nationalists formed resistance groups to combat the encroachment of further Japanese imperialism, among them the Korean Independence Army. Ahn (Hyun Bin) is fighting in their ranks when they score a combat victory over some surprised Nippon troops. But he insists on honoring international war-crimes rules by not executing some captured personnel, despite his own men’s objections. That turns out to be a bitterly regretted decision, because spared high-ranking officer Mori (Park Hoon) soon seizes an opportunity to massacre nearly all Ahn’s comrades.

To redeem himself, Ahn decides he’ll make it his mission to assassinate Japan’s Prime Minister as he travels across China to meet with Russian diplomats, orchestrating deals that will secure Korea’s subjugation. This involves a labyrinth of undercover intrigue, arms acquisition, betrayal, shootouts, and so forth, with a mole conveying most of these planned guerrilla actions to the relentless Mori before they can occur.

Dense with background details and explication that may be somewhat daunting to non-Korean audiences, Harbin nonetheless maintains interest with a somber, tense mood spiked by occasional outbursts of violence. It’s handsomely produced on impressive locations, from spectacular mountain and desert landscapes to myriad interiors whose dark look amplifies the surreptitious nature of the characters’ activities. A history lesson framed as heroic action-suspense tale, Harbin may for Western viewers recall starry big-budget WW2 espionage epics of the 1960s like Where Eagles Dare and Von Ryan’s Express—though it’s a bit less heavy on the swaggering machismo. It opens in Bay Area theaters Fri/3.

Another fact-inspired new drama has gotten a divisive response, with raves and awards from some quarters, while others have found it curiously alienating. I’m sorry to say I landed on the debit side of that divide—sorrier still because the source material seemed such a natural for the screen. Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer-winning 2019 novel The Nickel Boys provided a succinctly powerful portrait of slavery long after the official end of slavery, via abuses visited on boys at a very long-running fictive Florida boys’ reform school (in real life the now-shuttered Dozier School). Its protagonist gets sent there unjustly as a juvenile in the early 1960s, and is lucky to survive the experience. Much later, he lives to see the institution investigated, uncovering decades of brutality including rape, beatings, and the unmarked graves of former wards who supposedly “ran away” or simply “disappeared.”

Nickel Boys (the “the” has been dropped) is a first narrative feature for RaMell Ross, who previously had turned his sojourn teaching photography in rural Alabama into a fine poetical documentary of life there. Hale County This Morning, This Evening was oblique but evocative, offering little in the way of concrete storytelling yet providing heady, lyrical insight into a place and culture.

But Whitehead’s book is full of vivid incident, character dynamics, and historical context; it’s not the sort of thing that lends itself to flavorful abstraction. Whatever led Ross to make the decisions he makes, they didn’t work for me: He has shot this intensely dramatic story entirely in the first-person, initially limited to the perspective of teenaged Elmwood (Ethan Herisse), then also that of Turner (Brandon Wilson), who becomes his only real friend at the dreaded “Nickel Academy.”

Their travails rendered murky by a POV in which we see the abuser, but not the abused (Ross and Joslyn Barnes’ screenplay tends to leave those acts to our imagination anyway), this is a movie whose high-minded experimentalism ends up only muffling the impact of its material. The effect is rather like reading a novel entirely written in the second person: It’s a gimmick that can be pulled off, yes, but why would you want to? The performers (also including Daveed Diggs, Hamish Linklater, and Jimmie Fails) are good, albeit handicapped by the alienating technique. Some, like Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor as Elwood’s grandmother, succumb to overstatement when repeatedly asked to play entire scenes directly to the camera, rather than a fellow actor.

The external threads Ross weaves in (often utilizing archival footage) involving the concurrent Civil Rights movement, “space race” etc. do ultimately pay off in making this long sit achieve a kind of complex, essayistic dimensionality. But those 15 minutes or so of Chris Marker-like montage succeed at the cost of The Nickel Boys, which will have to wait for a more straightforward future translation to realize the impact that fairly leapt off Whitehead’s pages, and which should have provided no obstacle to replication in this medium. It opens in Bay Area theaters Fri/3.

More direct depictions of grave present-tense injustices are on display in two more new films. Brendan Bellomo and Slava Leontyev’s Porcelain War centers on three Ukrainian artists living in the vicinity of devastated Kharkiv, very near the Russian border. Originally they’d all lived in Crimea, yet another “life stolen from us by Russia’s occupation.” Finding themselves in a new war zone, they maintain their disciplines as a form of protest: Cinematographer Andrey Stefanov keeps filming, including the mines and IUD’s now littering their countryside, while married couple Leontyev and Anya Stasenko continue creating ceramic miniatures that now offer commentary on this nation’s appalling day-to-day reality.

Occasionally bringing those whimsical figures to “life” via animation, Porcelain Nation can seem a bit twee, particularly when compared to the many more bluntly powerful documentaries about Ukraine the last couple years. But in its second half, the film acquires some power of its own, as we watch Slava train as a weapons expert for the Ukrainian Special Forces, and Andrey must cope with sending his children into exile for their own safety. There’s even gritty you-are-there footage of combat missions. Ultimately, the film’s strength lies in showing how art can retain its relevance, and artists their artistry, under the most antagonistic circumstances.

Likewise, From Ground Zero: Stories From Gaza is not the most hard-hitting of recent features about Palestinians’ plight, but it benefits from a diversity of approach to a grim subject. Conceived by Rashid Masharawi, the project brings together 22 filmmakers for as many individual contributions to a nearly two-hour omnibus reflecting everyday life in Gaza. As amply demonstrated here, that life is to a large degree now spent in refugee camps, or combing through the debris of homes newly bombed to rubble—sometimes still hoping to find survivors buried beneath.

There are sequences that are straight documentary reportage, others more in the realm of personal essay, plus a fair number of dramatized vignettes. In lighter moments, we see a standup comedian provide some escapist relief for refugees; animation and marionettes are utilized elsewhere.

Not everything here is good, with a wince-worthy moment or two, as during a bit that’s like a tacky amateur music video on YouTube. But the immediacy of so many voices in front of and behind the cameras does generate considerable insight. It would take a heart of stone not to be moved when at one point various children are interviewed, and one notes that her baby brother hasn’t yet acquired the power of speech—his experience to date has only taught him to imitate the sound of an ambulance siren.

Porcelain War and From Ground Zero both open Fri/3 at SF’s Roxie Theater, the former also at the Rafael Film Center in Marin.