Netflix delivers a black-and-white biopic of famed French New Wave director Jean-Luc Godard and the making of his first feature film, Breathless. The movie delivers a compelling look at the filmmaking process. But harsh (if limited) language, suggestive moments, some spiritual fumbling and constant smoking could make this a tricky film to navigate.

The pre-release screening of “Sentimental Value,” which played on Saturday, Nov. 8 at the Goldsmith Family Cinema, was both confusing and simple. A collection of vaguely assorted scenes with a lack of focus, the movie was also an interesting exploration into a troubled family desperate to improve. Although I understand why a lot of people like this movie, I think “Sentimental Value” could’ve been much better.

There were some elements I just didn’t understand. I’m not knowledgeable about the film industry or film production, so there were some references that I didn’t get. I wonder if I would like the movie more if I understood the film buff references and the jokes related to Norwegian culture, both of which flew over my head. I mean, this is quite literally a film about filmmaking. I feel similarly whenever an author focuses on their craft so directly: It detracts from the movie. It’s like a writer writing about writing; it feels almost redundant. 

The movie has a relatively simple plot that’s filled in with a lot of character scenes. In short, the film focuses on the lives and journeys of two sisters, Agnes and Nora. Their father, Gustav, was a film director, but he left them both. Agnes has a child, while Nora remains single and focuses on her acting career. The general plot structure is fine, and I actually think Gustav is a really chilly character, in an unsettling way. His very presence brings an air of unease into every scene he’s in. The character of Gustav is really intriguing and shines far above most of the other characters in the film. 

The central flaw of the movie is how unfocused it is. There are a lot of scenes that seem to be there to show off cinematography more than anything else. The film employs swift cuts to black between scenes, which is quite jarring and leaves little room for cohesion. It makes it seem like the director doesn’t know how to transition between scenes and is just throwing them together. I think there should’ve been a clearer sense of temporality to the movie with the past and present divided into separate worlds because right now, the flashback scenes look and feel basically the same as the modern-day scenes. I will say the camera quality and minute-to-minute cinematography is well crafted, but it’s not perfect.

I will give a huge amount of praise to the music, which is rich and fulfilling. I almost wonder if “Sentimental Value” would be better as a playlist than as a movie. The soundtrack is warm and comforting, fitting right into the movie and enhancing each scene. 

We also get a slight hint of WW2 and Nazi elements in the movie, with Nora and Agnes’ family being victims. This is more of a backdrop than a main focus, which is a bit unfortunate. I wonder how the movie would be different if they made this historical context a primary focus. They could’ve explored the impact of wartime trauma destroying families across generations. 

Also, speaking of missed opportunities…

It’s both interesting and sad how Agnes’ child, Erik, is the least boring part of “Sentimental Value.” He almost feels like the emotional center here, in a subplot where Gustav wants to have his grandchild play a role in his movie. Gustav wants to relive his golden years and connect with his grandchildren, but Agnes is still wary of him and doesn’t want to. I was quite invested in this conflict across three generations, and I wanted to see more of it. Sadly, it doesn’t go anywhere. It reminds me of another film, “Happyend” (2024), where there’s a balanced sibling-like relationship with two characters, done much better than “Sentimental Value.” Here, the focus is primarily on Nora, and Agnes really doesn’t have much screen time. I think the storyline with Agnes and Erik should’ve been a major part of the story. This plot could’ve ended many ways: either with Agnes realizing her child should bond with their grandpa, or Gustav realizing not to control his family.

The lack of this conclusion makes me wonder if there was a practical consideration about the difficulty of working with child actors. Even then, there were better ways to end that story! This brings me back to the lack of structure within the movie; it needed to have better pacing to make the story work. As it stands, the ending of “Sentimental Value” falls flat.

“Sentimental Value” is a film with a lot of room for improvement, if only the filmmaker had sorted out the disorganized nature and lack of focus within the movie. In the end, however, I can somewhat appreciate what it went for. Even if the execution wasn’t the best, the atmosphere, characters, and music made for a pretty fascinating movie. 

Total rating: 3 stars

Atharv Dimri can be reached at adimri@wesleyan.edu.

For the past few years, horror cinema has sometimes felt as fraught with toxic romance as a particularly cursed dating app. From manipulated meet-cutes (Fresh; Companion) to long-term codependence (Together) to the occasional success story (Heart Eyes), it’s clear that romantic relationships are mostly blood-stained hell, and a couple going to a secluded location together is a fresh level of it.

So it’s not surprising when Liz (Tatiana Maslany) starts to feel uneasy on her weekend away with Malcolm (Rossif Sutherland) early on in the new and much-concealed horror movie Keeper. Liz and Malcolm have been together for about a year, which we gather early on has marked the time Liz has bolted from past relationships. Still, she seems optimistic about this one. She thinks she knows Malcolm pretty well, and their early scenes together are neither as dotted with red flags nor as suspiciously idyllic as other recent characters in the doomed-couple genre. Liz has a wary, deadpan sense of humor, and Malcolm has a slightly slurred-together accent as he explains some oddities about his family-owned cabin in the woods (like the fact that he has a creepy cousin who lives nearby). But their awkwardness levels are complementary. They seem comfortable together.

Osgood Perkins, the director, introduces discord through his shot choices, rather than micro-aggressions or backstory. Liz and Malcolm’s faces are rarely outright hidden, but they’re often partially obscured, shown from odd angles, or framed in shots with a disconcerting amount of headroom. This establishes a pattern of disorientation that continues as Liz thinks she hears faint noises through the house’s vents. When she relaxes in the house’s posh tub, there’s an intensely memorable superimposition of the nearby river rushing all around her, as if she’s about to transcend space and time. “I feel like I took mushrooms,” she tells a friend she calls when she’s left alone at the cabin. Her friend asks if she did, in fact, take mushrooms; Liz doesn’t answer directly.

For a while, Keeper – named for Liz’s supposed status as the woman in Malcolm’s life – seems like it could go in any number of directions, its horror elements mixed together in a dreamlike jumble. Is it a ghost story, a slasher-in-the-woods movie, or just a really bad trip? Perkins, a horror specialist who has been on a prolific run for the past 18 months with another movie due out next year, makes it difficult to tell, both in-movie (so many of the creepiest early moments are moments just out of focus or in the corner of the eye) and extra-textually; his last two films were the tonally distinct serial-killer freakout Longlegs and the Final Destination-ish horror comedy The Monkey. This eclecticism, combined with Keeper’s elusive and spoiler-averse ad campaign, could make the new film feel to some like a shell game designed to dress up what is, at its core, a pretty simple horror story.

Maybe it is that. But part of what makes Perkins’ film so refreshing is the way it prioritizes its visceral effect on an audience over a desire to bend that story into a modern relationship parable. As clever as so many contemporary horror movies are, they often write toward theme rather than shooting toward immediacy. As a result, some are starved for original imagery, unexpected juxtapositions or a sense of genuine, uncanny mystery. Keeper has all of this, and Perkins knows just how far to push those elements without allowing the movie to become abstract woo-woo self-indulgence.

He also seems to know what a powerful grounding element he has in Maslany, who isn’t called upon to do the usual virtuoso demo reel of a woman on the verge of oblivion. Liz does get freaked out by the strange things that happen around her, and the character is written and performed with a certain directness. (She’s not one of those horror heroines who inexplicably avoids asking what the hell is going on.) Yet Maslany delivers a second level to her performance in her unguarded moments: a cynical flick of her eyes in one direction or another, the tenuousness of her more polite smiles, the shorthand of both her familiarity and quickness to irritation with her unseen friend on the phone. Though no particular skeleton key to her traumatic past awaits, the character still feels complete.

That’s true of the movie as a whole, too. It’s not as rich as Sinners nor as narratively ambitious as Weapons, two of 2025’s standard-bearers for original horror. But when Keeper finishes up, its tight confines feel satisfying, correct and unlikely to spawn a sequel. That tidiness drives home some of its themes in a way that the more overt messaging of other dating-hell stories don’t always manage: maybe it takes a fable-like horror for the messy business of relationships to stay so neatly kept.