The Yonkers Film Festival 2022 In Review
A summary of the films featured in this annual event taking place in Westchester.

A tale of changeless and sad pictures of village’s last days of life, told through prism of a real story.
A summary of the films featured in this annual event taking place in Westchester.
“Trust your gut" is one of the most common pieces of advice you’ll receive during your lifetime. And as a person inclined to trust my intuition above all else, it’s the most common advice I find myself giving in real life and in my online socialising. But what happens when your gut is trying to warn you that something is seriously wrong without you being able to identify what triggered it in the first place? How can you act on a feeling or make it go away when you don’t have a clue about what could be wrong? How can you trust your intuition when you don’t know what makes it act out in the first place?
Throughout Brendan Fraser’s career, he has played a plethora of unique, layered characters who explore the importance of not being afraid to display your emotions, something that is often seen to not be a masculine trait. This idea of regulating emotion and what traits men are able to possess creates a toxic atmosphere for men who are often told they should not cry or represent their emotions in any physical way. These characters represent that men can be joyful, emotionally conscious, and sensitive, while also representing their masculine identity instead of painting those qualities as fighting against their masculinity.
The Roses is a wickedly sharp marital warfare comedy that transforms domestic dysfunction into high art. Olivia Colman and Benedict Cumberbatch deliver powerhouse performances as a couple whose fairy-tale romance implodes when his architectural career collapses just as her culinary empire takes off. What makes Jay Roach's remake so devastatingly effective is its refusal to pick sides—both spouses are equally sympathetic and monstrous, wielding Tony McNamara's razor-sharp dialogue like weapons forged from shared intimacies. It's a film that dares you to laugh at relationship wreckage while forcing you to confront the uncomfortable truth that the line between passionate love and mutual destruction is terrifyingly thin.
If Miguel Alexandre were trying to make a revenge story seem dull without using all the effective formulas that work great in this catchy genre, he could not have accomplished his purpose much better than he unintentionally has in Black Island.