NIGHTSIREN (2022) dir. Tereza Nvotová

Tereza Nvotová’s Nightsiren is a feast for the eyes; a ghostly portrait of Charolette (Natalia Germani), who returns home to the rural village in which she grew up. As she reflects on her turbulent childhood and searches for the truth behind her memories, more sinister things come to light—causing those around Charlotte to accuse her of murder and witchcraft. Nightsiren is a promising and eerie piece by Nvotová, a notable addition to the folk horror hall of fame with recent hits like The Ritual, The Cursed, and The Witch.

While Nvotová’s film flourishes in a variety of ways, from its acting to its plot, Nightsiren is strongest in its cinematography. The world established by the camera alone is breathtaking. Shots of thickening forests, shadows of flames licking the treetops, a bonfire-lit witches’ sabbath, and delicate, cool tones create a memorable picture. Nightsiren, in all its atmospheric magic, is a sinister, bewitching tale that burrows beneath the skin and stays there. –Alexis den Boggende

SPAGHETTI JUNCTION (2022) dir. Kirby McClure

Spaghetti Junction, the feature directorial debut from Kirby McClure, belongs to a small but burgeoning subgenre which I’m not sure yet has a name: low-budget, practically handmade science fiction films in which the genre elements are primarily used as an expression for the protagonist’s emotional journey (for lack of a better term, I’m going to plant a flag on “lo-sci” and see if it sticks). August (Cate Hughes) is a bright Atlanta teen coming to terms with the loss of her leg in an accident which also claimed the life of her mother; her home life, with her alcoholic father (Cameron McHarg), rebellious sister Shiny (Eleanore Miechkowski), and Shiny’s supremely scuzzy boyfriend Antonio (Jesse Gallegos) doesn’t help things. While exploring the woods, August discovers a trail of lotus flowers leading to a hovel occupied by a strange man (Tyler Rainey), who may or may not be an interdimensional traveler trying to make his way home. Spaghetti Junction captures a wondrously dreamlike vision, making the outskirts of Atlanta feel like a liminal fantasy world. But the film belongs to Hughes, one of those one-in-a-million casting discoveries who feels like the only actress on earth who could have possibly embodied this character. I’ll be very curious to see what both she and McClure do next. –Oscar Goff

PIAFFE (2022) dir. Ann Oren

The debut feature from the Israeli born German based video installation artist Ann Oren, the sensational monstrosity that is Piaffe, fundamentally understands one of the great rules of arthouse cinema: anything to do with foley artists, especially something sexually expressive, will always be welcome. Eva, in an outstanding and transgressive performance by Simone Bucio, vicariously assumes her sister Zara’s (Simonè Jaikiriuma Paetau) job as a foley artist on an antidepressant commercial that makes use of a horse after a mental health collapse. (May we all have sisters with hearts like Eva.) The daunting new task unlocks her sexual potential—exemplified through the growth of a horse tail, which is both aestheticized and fetishized by Oren, much like a disturbing piece of installation art—and enables her to cross into otherwise uncomfortable sexual experiences, such as BDSM and horse-play(?). Piaffe is disturbing, it’s hot, and the fact that it’s hot makes it all that much more disturbing. –Joshua Polanski

SMOKING CAUSES COUGHING (2022) dir. Quentin Dupiuex

I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that Quentin Dupieux– the French oddball behind such flights of fancy as Rubber, Deerskin, Mandibles, and Keep an Eye Out– is one of my favorite working filmmakers; his films, which release at a clip of one or two a year, are reliably demented and unpredictable, and the fact that they rarely crack 80 minutes prevents them from wearing out their welcome. Dupieux’s latest, Smoking Causes Coughing, is silly even by its director’s standards, and at times plays like a scrapbook of unused ideas. The plot, roughly speaking, follows the “Tobacco Force,” a team of superheroes named after carcinogens (Nicotine, Methanol, etc.) who fight rubber monsters by giving them cancer (which, for some reason, causes them to messily explode). When their commander, a disgusting rat puppet straight out of Meet the Feebles, senses their teamwork flagging, he sends them off to a retreat at a state-of-the-art cabin in the woods (“Titanium beds!” “A shower with real seawater!”). To pass the time, the heroes tell each other shaggy-dog stories, each of which is essentially a miniature Quentin Dupieux film in its own right. Along the way, there’s a talking barracuda, a refrigerator which contains a portal to a full-sized supermarket, and, quite possibly, the end of the world. Does any of this amount to more than a series of deadpan non sequiturs? Not really, but if you’re looking for a profound or cohesive plot, Quentin Dupieux might not be the director for you. Me, I hope the guy never stops cranking out these weird little piffles. –OG

REBEL (2022) dir. Adil El Arbi & Bilall Fallah

BUFF has a (not undeserved) reputation for the outre, but the festival isn’t afraid to play it straight when a great film falls in their programmers’ sights. Rebel, this year’s closing night selection, is a harrowing and often heartbreaking film, but it bursts with the sort of intense energy that has become BUFF’s stock in trade. Kamal (Aboubakr Bensaihi) is a headstrong young mechanic, occasional drug dealer, and amateur rapper who travels from Brussels to Syria to join ISIS in the fight against Assad. As one might expect, Kamal quickly learns that the life of an extremist isn’t all righteous glamor– but he has no way of communicating that to his young brother Nassim (Amir El Arbi) as he slowly becomes radicalized back home. It should go without saying that Rebel is strong medicine, and its final scene in particular is a gut punch you’ll feel for days. But directors El Arbih and Fallah (who directed 2020’s de facto top grosser Bad Boys for Life, as well as Warner Bros’ aborted Batgirl film) propel the film with wit and bravado, from its white-knuckle action scenes to its show-stopping musical numbers. Yes, you heard that right: Rebel is, if not a full-on musical, at least the sort of film that’s not afraid to have its characters break into song to express their inner turmoil. Rebel is a film which, once seen, is not soon forgotten– which might be the BUFF specialty. –OG

Click here to catch up with the Hassle’s coverage of the 2023 Boston Underground Film Festival!