‘We Live in Time’ (2024)

When we meet the protagonists of “We Live in Time,” Almut (Florence Pugh) and Tobias (Andrew Garfield), they’re in a doctor’s office, learning Almut’s cancer has returned, and more aggressively. She must make the impossible decision of whether to pursue treatment, questioning if it’s better to have six months of great life or a year of chemo that might not even work in the end. We don’t get the answer immediately; we have to go back to the beginning to understand how they got here. The narrative picks up in another hospital setting where Almut, an up-and-coming chef, and Tobias, a recently divorced Weetabix cereal brand executive, meet for the first time after she accidentally hits him with her car. It’s charming, if a bit outlandish. Almut and Tobias have immediate chemistry, which sets the tone for an on-screen relationship that feels remarkably real thanks to solid performances from Pugh and Garfield. From there the film pinballs back and forth in time (as the title suggests), creating an intimate portrait of their life together – the early days of dating and an almost breakup, Almut’s challenging fertility journey, the birth of their daughter Ella (a very sweet Grace Delaney) in a gas station bathroom (easily one of the film’s best scenes), the cancer’s return and Almut’s decision to participate in the prestigious Bocuse d’Or world chef competition – a rich, fast info dump. “We Live in Time” fits neatly into a weepy romance subgenre pioneered by films such as “Titanic” (1997) and “The Notebook” (2004), though here the fragmented, time-jump storytelling style prevents it from truly shining. There’s also not a ton of character development for Almut and Tobias outside their relationship, which can make them seem a bit one-dimensional; the narrative style is no help, and hinders character development within the relationship as well. Director John Crowley’s manipulation of time makes the whole thing feel sort of contrived, showing only the high highs and low lows, rather than letting the story unfold naturally. (Madeleine Aitken) At Landmark Kendall Square Cinema, 355 Binney St., Cambridge.

‘Red Rooms’ (2023)

The Nicolas Cage flick “Longlegs” was supposed to revive the serial killer genre, but Cage’s bold acting style wasn’t enough of a jolt. Here, in Pascal Plante’s “Red Rooms,” common genre elements get respun more powerfully. We start by witnessing the binding, torture and killing of a victim over the Internet, except that we don’t: It’s experienced only through the aglow facial expressions of an observer who has paid a fortune on the dark web to revel in the act – a bespoke snuff experience, filled with dismemberment and sexual assault. There’s never blood or gore, which makes the result far more visceral than any gushing arterial spray. Set in Canada’s Quebec province (and mostly in French), Ludovic Chevalier (Maxwell McCabe-Lokos) is on trial for the murder of three lithe, blonde and blue-eyed teens, because that “look” brings the best price. In court, Chevalier sits in a thick glass cage, as if in a zoo. The trial is open to the public, but there are limited seats that trial junkies such as Clémentine (Laurie Babin) and Kelly-Anne (Juliette Gariépy) line up for daily so they can drink in every gory detail. Clémentine is a conspiracy theorist who thinks the gaunt, extraterrestrial-like Chevalier is innocent. Kelly-Anne is a psycho killer fan – a hybristophiliac, if you will – and at one point during the trial, dyes her hair blonde, puts in blue eye contacts and dons a schoolgirl outfit, looking just like the dead daughter of the parents she’s sitting behind. As she’s evicted, Chevalier looks up for the first time, smiles sheepishly and waves to her with a mild, knowing expression. The film’s less about the court case and the details of Chevalier’s deeds and more about Kelly-Anne and her obsession. The film works so effectively for the most part because of Gariépy. Her Kelly-Anne is in fact a part-time model and works out arduously, emanating the cold, detached demeanor that comes with the part. She lives alone, messing around on the Internet where we learn she’s blessed with the hacker skills of a Lisbeth Salander (“The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo” 2011), and even better at online poker, scoring buckets of bitcoin that pay for her posh high-rise apartment and schedule-free lifestyle. The concept of red rooms is a bit of Internet urban folklore, though the notion of such snuff chambers goes back to David Cronenberg’s 1983 “Videodrome” decades before the Internet bubble. The fact that they exist in Plante’s universe is all the more effective as a backdrop to Kelly-Anne’s enigmatic drive and obsession. Plante knows how to orchestrate a mood and dial up the stakes in small, unsettling shifts, in part by using an immersive score and sound editing. Along with Gariépy’s impeccable performance, “Red Rooms” spins up unspeakable horrors we see only in our mind’s eye. (Tom Meek) On Amazon.

‘The Apprentice’ (2024)

Not so much a takedown of Donald Trump as a look at the early years of the man who would be president as he morphs from socially awkward to megalomaniac, viewing capitalism and New York City as his oyster to shuck – all under the tutelage of Roy Cohn (thus the film’s title). The film opens with Nixon giving his famous “I am not a crook” speech, the erection of the World Trade Towers and Trump (Sebastian Stan, “Captain America: The Winter Soldier,” “Fresh,” and on screen now in “A Different Man”) going door-to-door in a tenement building shaking down low-income residents for back rent. Turns out the Trumps are under suit and facing stiff penalties from the Department of Justice for discriminating against people of color. Trump  is enamored with the well-connected Cohn (Jeremy Strong of “Succession”), who served as chief counsel to U.S. Sen. Joseph McCarthy during his 1950s Red Scare and prosecuted the Rosenbergs, who were executed for espionage. He catches the eye of his idol at a swank club one night and enlists him to represent the family in the suit. To say Cohn employed questionable tactics would be an understatement, but he has advice for the young Trump: Always be attacking; when accused, always deny; and if you lose, claim victory. It seems to have stuck. The films chronicles Trump’s public fight with Mayor Ed Koch over getting Trump Tower built, his tumultuous first marriage and his disavowal of Cohn – a closeted gay man who used homosexual slurs constantly – when he comes down with AIDS. It’s directed by Ali Abbasi, who has done equally dark tales in other lands: “Border” (2018) in Denmark and “Holy Spider” (2022) in Iran. The punchy “Apprentice overall” casts a cynical sheen over the young DJT but feels balanced; as the ego swells and grows into a horrific hubris, that’s when we get the goring of a demagogue not unlike Oliver Stone’s “W.” (2008) and Adam McKay’s “Vice” (2018). Stan looks the part but doesn’t quite sound it, yet still holds the film together, while Strong is a captivating, conflicted pit bull as Cohn and steals scenes with every razor-barbed line he fires off. Historical icons such as Andy Warhol and Roger Smith pop up, and Cohn has wild orgies that Trump stumbles into, but it’s the timing of the film so close to an election that could be a talking point, considering a pretty graphic sexual assault scene starring the man who would be our president. That said, it doesn’t really trash the man or give him an out. It paints a picture, somehow makes him somewhat sympathetic and allows us to connect the dots. (Tom Meek) At Landmark Kendall Square Cinema, 355 Binney St., Cambridge, and AMC Assembly Row 12, 395 Artisan Way, Assembly Square, Somerville.