Immaculate stands out from other films of this sub-genre with regards to the invincibility of the devil. But there is nothing to cheer about it, as it is a byproduct of a lazily written antagonist.

Part of the reason why Sydney Sweeney’s Cecilia works is that the other characters are peripheral and operate in a mechanical manner. Alvaro Morte’s Sal Tedeschi and Dora Romano’s Mother Superior are hugely disappointing for their lack of depth.

The visceral gore scenes partly make up for the lack of certain obligatory horror elements in the film. The repulsion that such scenes evoke testifies to the sublime craft in play, even though director Mohan milks the genre beyond acceptability. The film offers great ideas to ponder, too. There are scenes where we are told women choose nunhood not out of free will but rather because of the ill treatment they suffer at the hands of men outside. Another captivating idea is the choice of weapons in the stunt sequences; Cecilia uses a crucifix and nail, believed to be from Jesus’ crucifixion, to attack those who terrify people using faith and demand unquestioning submission.

Immaculate is a film with some moments that make you want to exceedingly adore it, but also others that border on trashy. Cecilia stands against her religion’s leaders in deciding whether she wants to have a child or not, demanding noninterference of the state in a woman’s bodily autonomy over pregnancy. Such exceptional writing is marred by other poor choices, forcing us to form a love-hate relationship with the film.

Pierce by Nelicia Low is screening at New York Asian Film Festival.

On the occasion of Nelicia Low’s debut, Pierce, screening at New York Asian Film Festival, Panos Kotzathanasis talks about the film, Low’s background and its connection with the movie, the way she approached the story, the relationship of the two brothers among them and with their mother, acting cinematography and editing, in one of the best movies of the year.

Most Americans (and wine enthusiasts around the world) are no stranger to Veuve Clicquot Champagnes and their distinctive, marigold-labeled bottles signifying celebration and luxury. But non-French speakers wouldn’t understand the full name of the brand and, therefore, are missing out on the whole story.

The word “veuve” in French means “widow,” and so the name of the wine is also the name of the film about the woman behind the beloved bubbles. “Widow Clicquot” is the biopic of Barbe-Nicole Ponsardin (played by Haley Bennett), who took over the wine business of her husband, François (Tom Sturridge), when she was widowed in 1805 at age 27, making her one of France’s first female entrepreneurs — and one of its most celebrated.

“Widow Clicquot” is adapted by Erin Dignam and Christopher Monger from the 2008 book “The Widow Clicquot: The Story of a Champagne Empire and the Woman Who Ruled It” by Tilar J. Mazzeo. The screenplay hits the big moments and skims the details, but it also leaves room for director Thomas Napper to lean into flashes of lyrical dreaminess. The film is a rich blend of historicity and poetry, revealing Barbe-Nicole Ponsardin’s story in a nonlinear fashion that starts out deeply romantic, turning more pragmatic as she leans into her power as a businesswoman.

This is Napper’s second feature as a director, though he has served as the second-unit director on many of Joe Wright’s films, which is why this feels very much like a Wright project (and not only because it stars Wright’s partner Bennett, who has also starred in several of his films). There is a certain sensuality to Napper’s direction of “Widow Clicquot,” lensed by Caroline Champetier, that’s evocative of Wright’s aesthetic: an earthy, wholesome beauty familiar to fans of 2005’s “Pride & Prejudice” that’s tied to the land and its seasons.

It’s the land itself that starts Barbe-Nicole’s journey to creating one of France’s greatest Champagne empires. Immediately after his funeral, she’s propositioned to sell her husband’s vineyards to Monsieur Moët (Nicholas Farrell). Though her father-in-law, Philippe (Ben Miles), disapproves of her new license, she has the right to do what she wants with the property as the inheritor of his will. Philippe gives her a limited chance to prove she can run the vineyard as she sees fit, and she immediately dispenses with hierarchies of labor in order to operate as a “wheel,” which is initially a tough sell for her vineyard supervisors.

She continues on her quest to fulfill François’ dreams of winemaking on their land, always moving forward, and forging an alliance with Louis Bohne (Sam Riley), a wine merchant and close confidant (and perhaps more intimate friend) of her late husband. If the vineyard is to be successful, Barbe-Nicole must be able to get her wares through Napoleonic embargoes, and she puts all of her trust in Louis to transport her precious cargo. She develops a new technique for making Champagne that becomes all the rage in St. Petersburg thanks to Louis’ canny salesmanship, and in their collaboration, they too become inseparable, which sets off suspicions about the young widow.

All the while she is haunted by memories of François, each flashback revealing more nuance to the story. Initially it seems as if they led an almost impossibly idyllic life of pastoral beauty and wine-soaked sensuality; François a sort of manic pixie vintner boy who lounges among the vines, teaching his wife tasting notes in bed. But her memories peel back to show more of his troubled, tormented character, the challenges she endured and the complicated nature of his death.

It’s a lot to unpack in a swift 90-minute film, and the script is weighted in favor of Barbe-Nicole’s emotional journey rather than her entrepreneurial one. Short shrift is given to her innovative achievements in winemaking (still used to this day) in order to focus on the men in her life, something of a disappointment. Nevertheless “Widow Clicquot” is a worthy, if abbreviated, toast to the woman behind one of the most iconic Champagnes in the world.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.