Charli xcx’s The Moment expands wide this weekend. Alexander Skarsgård plays a very un-brat director in the faux documentary starring the pop star as a version of herself — and he stars in BDSM rom-com Pillion.

Those and more are in theaters this week.

The Moment 

Expanding widely on Friday 

This trailer includes instances of vulgar language.

Remember brat summer? That was, of course, in 2024, the year when Charli xcx’s Brat album catapulted her into the mainstream. Now she’s turned that moment into the movie The Moment, directed by Aidan Zamiri, who directed the music videos for Charli’s songs “360” and “Guess.” It’s a hyperpop supermeta faux documentary starring Charli as a version of herself in the album’s aftermath. She’s feeling intense pressure to capitalize upon her newfound mainstream success, and reluctantly goes along with her record label’s shrewd business plans. Along for the ride is none other than Alexander Skarsgård, in a great comedic turn as a concert filmmaker named Johannes who’s totally not brat.

The movie’s central question: Can Charli keep the brat momentum going? And, more crucially: Does she even want to? Your mileage may vary, but I’d argue The Moment works on multiple levels: As a self-referential, semiserious commentary on Charli xcx’s fraught (and well-documented) relationship to fame; as a damning critique of the polished artist-approved concert documentary industrial complex; and as a messy, yet interesting observation of the pitfalls of capitalism. — Aisha Harris 

Pillion

In limited theaters Friday

“What am I going to do with you,” asks Ray (Alexander Skarsgård), a handsome, leather-clad, undeniably dominant biker in Harry Lighton’s debut feature. “Whatever you want,” replies Colin (Harry Melling), the dweeby, shyly submissive parking enforcement officer who can’t believe he’s attracted the attention of this Tom-of-Finland-caliber stud. In his mid-30s, Colin still lives with his gay-affirming parents (Douglas Hodge and Lesley Sharp) in one of London’s outer boroughs. He’s mild in every sense, performs in pubs in a barbershop quartet, and knows absolutely nothing of BDSM. Ray, who needn’t utter a word to get Colin to buy chips for him and his dart-playing buddies at a pub, is about to introduce him to gay biker kink — fetish-wear, a shaved head, dog collars and all — in a dom-com that features a good bit of pretty graphic sex.

But Lighton mixes the raunch with a sweet positivity by focusing on Colin’s growth and Ray’s vulnerability. Skarsgård lets us see Ray as a man who comes to realize he’s painted himself into a corner by closing himself off from emotional connections. Melling is endearing in his snaggle-toothed innocence, and braver than he first seems, both with Ray and with a domineering mom who badgers him in softer, but no less effective ways. (A “pillion,” in case you’re wondering, is the back end of the driver’s seat on a motorbike, where the passenger sits; it can also be used as slang for a submissive partner.) — Bob Mondello

A Poet

In limited theaters Friday

Pity the poor artist who knows he’s failing. Simón Mesa Soto’s Colombian dramedy follows Oscar (Ubeimar Rios), a poet who published two books early in an artistic career that’s since gone south. Now in midlife, he’s unemployed, divorced and living with his mother. His daughter is embarrassed when he visits her, his poetry readings tend to start as lectures and devolve into tirades. He drinks too much and is seriously unlucky. His luck seems to change when he gets a gig teaching poetry in a high school and meets Yurlady (Rebeca Andrade), a teenager who seems indifferent to poetry, but writes like a dream.

Oscar becomes her mentee, shepherding her to competitions (she’s interested in prizes if they can help her family out of poverty), and introducing her to a prestigious poetry school that immediately sees publicity and fundraising advantages in adopting this Black child of humble origins as their mascot. Filmmaker Soto casts a skeptical eye on all of this, shooting in grainy 16-millimeter, and using musical scoring to underline the absurdity and pretension. Both Rios and Andrade are non-professionals making their acting debuts. And the film, which is only the sophomore effort of writer and director Sosa, took the Un Certain Regard Jury Prize at Cannes. — Bob Mondello

Sirāt

In limited theaters Friday 

A wall of speakers is being assembled in the Moroccan desert at the beginning of Óliver Laxe’s nerve-wracking portrait of sensation seekers on what appears to be the brink of World War III. The speakers soon growl, pulse, and thunder as gyrating, sunburned bodies writhe to a techno beat, and with the help of his young son, a father hands out pictures of a daughter he hasn’t heard from for months. Convinced she might be part of this bacchanalian scene, they’re intrigued when Jade (Jade Oukid) says there’s another rave scheduled soon at an unspecified faraway spot. When the military arrive, ordering an immediate evacuation, Jade and four buddies (who, between them, are missing an arm, a leg, and quite a few teeth) strike out across the desert, and the father and son follow them in a minivan that’s not suited to the rough terrain.

Some LSD-inflected comedy ensues, but if you know that the title refers to the vanishingly-slender bridge Muslim faithful must traverse past Hell on the day of judgment if they want to reach Paradise, you’ll sense that trouble lies ahead. With an engaging cast of mostly first-time actors, Laxe takes the story into allegorical — Mad Max meets The Wages of Fear — territory, through a shocking mid-film tragedy, to a downright existential conclusion. — Bob Mondello

Kokuho

In limited theaters Friday 

The opening moments of Sang-il Lee’s nearly three-hour epic are breathtaking — a yakuza boss’ son, Kikuo (Ryo Yoshizawa), is orphaned in a New Year’s gang massacre that’s choreographed to a fare-thee-well. But the film isn’t a mob saga. Kikuo performs the onnagata (female) role in an amateur kabuki performance at his father’s New Year’s celebration just before the slaughter. A famed Kabuki actor is in attendance, and adopts the boy, raising him alongside his own kabuki-trained son Shunsuke (Ryusei Yokohama). The great man’s wife worries that Kikuo is so adept at the danced, ritualized theatrical form, that he could end up usurping the dynastic succession by which Shunsuke is expected to take over from his father.

That’s the start of a story that rivals, in its melodramatic twists and fable-like symbolism, the arch, stylized form this family practices. The filming is gorgeous, though the story becomes attenuated in its third hour. Still, it’s easy to see how this film, nominated for best makeup and hairstyling at this year’s Oscars, became Japan’s highest-grossing live-action film. — Bob Mondello