Years ago, Netflix bolstered their movie library with premium network Starz, which brought many binge-able movies and the excellent series Party Down, among others, to the ever-growing streaming service. Since the partnership between Netlfix and Starz—often considered the afterthought to HBO and Showtime—has ended, Starz has really carved out a niche for itself with original programming with Ash vs. Evil Dead, Outlander, Black Sails, and the upcoming Soderbergh produced The Girlfriend Experience. With this catalog (plus all the mainstream movies that come through), Starz has now launched their own on-demand streaming service.

For $8.99/month you can have access to their programming through an Android or iOS app or on the web. This is another a la carte platform that has increased the palatability of cutting the cable cord and picking out the specific entertainment you want. For all the movies and television new to streaming this week, check out the recommendations from the best streaming services below:

Netflix

Hush (Mike Flanagan, 2016)

A deaf-mute author (Kate Siegel) works away on her new novel in her secluded home when an uninvited guest with a crossbow shows up looking to make her his next victim. That’s all the set-up you’ll need to watch Mike Flanagan’s Hush, the latest film by the director of the underrated Absentia and Oculus (check out our interview with Flanagan and Seigel). Because of the protagonist’s inability to speak or hear, Hush keeps dialogue to an absolute minimum, meaning the majority of its slim, 82-minute runtime is dedicated to keeping the blood pumping as Siegel’s character tries to survive the night. Fans of home invasion thrillers like The Strangers will find plenty to like in Hush, and it should serve as a perfect viewing option on Netflix for anyone wanting to get a good scare this weekend. [C.J.]

Other titles new to Netflix this week:
American Odyssey (Series, Season 1)
The Beauty Inside (Baek Jong-Yeol, 2015)
God’s Pocket (John Slattery, 2014)
The Hallow (Corin Hardy, 2015)
Of Men and War (Laurent Bécue-Renard, 2014)

Fandor

Jules and Jim (François Truffaut, 1962)

In this week’s “Criterion Picks,” Fandor once again takes a look at doomed love with some great classic and international films. Among them is Truffaut’s brilliant dramatic screwball comedy Jules and Jim, featuring a love triangle of sorts. The film stars the effervescent Jeanne Moreau as Catherine, an unobtainable, impulsive woman and her long relationship with the title pair. For Truffaut, this is perhaps his most signature film in the French New Wave—a wild and unpredictable film, delightful all the way. The other Criterion Picks in the series include Black Orpheus, Senso, Children of Paradise, Summer Interlude, and more—all are available until April 17. Also included on Fandor this week is a new Spotlight, full of classic Italian cult films like Killer Cop, Zombie, Black Sunday, and The Bird with the Crystal Plumage.

Other titles new to Fandor this week:
The Animal Project (Ingrid Veninger, 2013)
Landscape with the Fall of Icarus (Chris Sullivan, 1994)
Modra (Ingrid Veninger, 2010)
mother mortar, father pestle (Gibbs Chapman, 2013)
Umbrellas of Cherbourg (Jacques Demy, 1964)

MUBI

Mr. X, a Vision of Leos Carax (Tessa Louise-Salomé, 2014)

MUBI is offering a Leos Carax double-feature this week with his international breakout Mauvais Sang coupled with artistic profile doc Mr. X. With interviews with the filmmaker and unseen footage from his life and films from his debut through Holy Motors, the documentary is a nice retrospective on an important world auteur whose run definitely doesn’t seem over—it is unusual to see a retrospective like this before a filmmaker has passed or hung it up, but this feels more than complete enough. A fantastic look into the mind of an enigmatic filmmaker with plenty of footage from his films, Mr. X is a nice primer on Carax with enough unique insight for his fanatics. You can check out this vision of Leos Carax on MUBI until May 3.

Other titles new to MUBI this week:
Ballad of the Little Soldier (Werner Herzog & Denis Reichle, 1984)
Help Me Eros (Lee Kang-Sheng, 2007)
Mauvais Sang (Leos Carax, 1986)
White Nights on the Pier (Paul Vecchiali, 2014)
A Young Poet (Damien Manivel, 2014)

iTunes & Video On-Demand

The Invitation (Karyn Kusama, 2015)

Available for rent at the same time as its limited theatrical release, The Invitation is a horror-thriller from the director of Girlfight and Jennifer’s Body. The film has received strong reviews on the festival circuit and premiere at South by Southwest 2015 for its slow-burn tension and clever plot. Slowly unfolding over the course of a dinner party, The Invitation involves a man reconnecting with his ex-wife and her new life after she went missing following a tragic event. While this may be a pretty standard mystery or thriller plot set-up, The Invitation is an intense and visceral film from start to finish. One of our favorite horror films we saw in 2015, you should check out The Invitation in theaters or on-demand this weekend.

Other titles new to VOD this week:
Boost (Nathan Gabaeff, 2015)
Ip Man 3 (Wilson Yip, 2015)
Joy (David O. Russell, 2015)
The Masked Saint (Warren P. Sonoda, 2016)
Mr. Right (Paco Cabezas, 2015)
Silicon Valley Season 2

If there was one genre in particular that 2015 excelled in, it would be documentaries. Every year there seems to be a standout or two, but this year the documentary category is loaded with worthy competitors. We’ve compiled the very best documentaries from this year, spanning a wide range of topics from prolific musicians, the War on Drugs, mountain climbing, sleep paralysis, and societal pressures of marriage in traditional Indian culture. Some are told in unconventional ways while others explore unique subjects, but all of these films contain riveting storytelling. The following documentaries are all worth checking out if you haven’t done so already.

Way Too Indie’s Best Documentaries of 2015

Amy

I tend to feel a ping of skepticism whenever a biographical documentary is made about a deceased pop culture persona so soon after their death. It’s hard not to assume it may be exploitive or disingenuous. So I had my doubts going into Amy even knowing Asif Kapadia had already proven himself a worthy documentary filmmaker. What unfolds is perhaps unsurprising, Amy Winehouse’s fame and death being as public as they were, but Amy isn’t the story you think it will be. Instead of yet another tragic addiction-led death of a young and talented star, the film uses the personal footage taken by Amy and her friends to reveal a young woman affected less by fame and more by the ill-intentioned people around her. The same psychology and personal trauma that inspired Winehouse’s remarkable music and fueled her soulful performances is what ultimately broke her heart and led to her death. What makes this stand out as a spectacular documentary is how expertly Kapadia turns the mirror around to show that the public spotlight thrust on Winehouse, and the rather transparent extent of her personal troubles, implies an amount of guilt on her fans and the public. It calls into question larger thoughts on the impact of our habits as consumers on other people’s lives, the sort of existential provocation only the best documentaries can produce. [Ananda]

Bending Steel

You haven’t heard of Bending Steel, but lucky you: I’ve seen it, I loved it, and I’m here to tell you about it. This weird, dark, startlingly profound documentary follows Chris Schoek, a hermetic New Yorker whose dream is to become a Coney Island strongman, like those bald, bulky, mustachioed guys you’ve seen on vintage freakshow posters. Chris doesn’t fit the bill—he’s lean, soft-spoken and shrivels up in front of a crowd—but he can bend metal with his bare hands, which is pretty amazing. The film tracks his progress as he works on his technique and learns to be a true performer, but the truly special moments involve Chris confessing his distaste for human contact, a troubling trait that may have developed as a result of his tragic relationship with his cold, unsupportive parents. As chilling a character portrait as I’ve seen all year. [Bernard]

Cartel Land

If Denis Villeneuve’s Sicario offers a slick, thrilling look at the bleak and despairing world of the War on Drugs, then Matthew Heineman’s Cartel Land can act as the gritty, real-world side of the same coin. Cartel Land follows two fronts of the drug war, but from the perspective of frustrated citizens instead of government officials: Arizona Border Recon head Tim Foley, and Jose Mireles, the leader of a vigilante group who fight off cartel gangs from taking over villages. Heineman keeps his focus on Mireles for the large majority of Cartel Land, mainly because it’s a remarkable story. Heineman captures incredible footage on the ground, getting in the middle of firefights and showing the intense pressure of living in the cartel wars on a daily basis, and at the same time observes Mireles’ group getting poisoned by the same interests that ensure chaos reigns at the border. Cartel Land is riveting, dark stuff, and its uncompromising look at the drug war as an out of control nightmare is some of the most important filmmaking to come out of 2015. [C.J.]

In Jackson Heights

With age comes experience, understanding, and a widened scope of the world around you. For all the exceptional documentaries Frederick Wiseman has been making since the ’60s, there is a weighted atmosphere in his latest one that could easily mark it as his magnum opus, because of all those things that come with age (Wiseman is 85 years old, by the way). In Jackson Heights is classic in how quickly three hours pass by; a kaleidoscopic look at a neighborhood in Queens, New York that boasts a record of 167 spoken languages. Though most of what you hear is Spanish and English, there’s a colorful enough array of characters from all walks of life that make the cultural hodgepodge the main anchor of the story. In another great year for documentaries, plenty of exaggerated praise drowns out the more humble and less sensationalist of the bunch. From these, Frederick Wiseman’s big-picture-perspective on the contortion and distortion of core, constitutional, American values stands tall. By letting the community of Jackson Heights speak its collective mind, most of the time during revealingly intimate moments, we become immersed with life itself. [Nik]

Listen to Me Marlon

Amy is rightfully regarded as one of the best documentaries of the year, but there is another doc with a similar approach that shouldn’t be overlooked. Listen to Me Marlon takes the recently discovered audio recordings made by legendary actor Marlon Brando and edits them into a look at his wonderful career and troubled inner-life. It doesn’t have the same large media aims as Amy, but perhaps gets more out of its complicated subject. With only the audio recordings to guide the story, it is among the most intimate artist bio-docs ever made. Listen to Me Marlon touches on some of the most crucial moments of Brando’s life, including his early rise as a superstar actor, his infamous Oscar win for The Godfather, and the tragic loss of his grown son. Due to his personal struggles and the bizarre film choices he made late in his life, Brando’s legacy has become easy to jeer, but Listen to Me Marlon is a beautiful tribute to the artist and the man, allowing his own words to tell his story and regain his humanity. [Aaron]

The Look of Silence

Joshua Oppenheimer’s The Act of Killing is a more eye-catching and artistically adventurous than his follow-up, The Look of Silence, but steep yourself in the latter’s rhythm and atmosphere for its entirety and you’ll discover a movie that will haunt you, sit on your shoulders and whisper in your ear for a long, long time. Like its predecessor, the doc is filled with the stories of those affected by the Indonesian genocide of 1965-66, both perpetrators and victims. This time, we follow a man named Adi, who lost his brother to the slaughter and conducts a string of interviews with the men who were in charge of the mass killings. The stories are as shocking as they were in The Act of Killing, with Adi’s strength, forgiveness and dignity piercing the darkness like a beacon. Most affecting of all is the presence of the dead, who we feel through Oppenheimer’s evocative camerawork, which subtly suggests the deceased are watching Adi’s every move from behind the trees. [Bernard]

Meet the Patels

Easily the funniest documentary of 2015—and possibly even the most entertaining—belongs to Geeta and Ravi Patel’s Meet the Patels. The brother and sister duo document Ravi’s difficulties of getting back into the dating world after a long-term relationship fails. But this isn’t a one-note dating documentary. The situation gets complex (and more compelling) due to the clash between Ravi’s American upbringing and his family’s firm stance on traditional Indian culture, particularly the arranged marriage part. But rather than making the film on whether dating or arranged marriage is the best way to find a partner, Ravi gives both methods a fair try, and the results are hilarious. There’s humor found throughout due to Ravi’s comedic, down-to-earth personality, making Meet the Patels charming and a breeze to watch. It also benefits from remarkable editing, by cutting down a ton of home movie footage and combining it with unique animations that periodically replace talking head interviews. The documentary made a big impression on audiences and studio exeutives as well; Fox Searchlight acquired remake rights shortly after its release, and plans to turn it into a narrative feature. [Dustin]

Meru

It was a big year for the Himalayas on film. An amazing counterpart to the big budget epic Everest is the true story of a small group of adventure-seekers who looked to be the first to scale one of the massive mountain’s more difficult peaks. Stylistically, Meru doesn’t do anything we haven’t seen before in documentaries—cinematography of the Himalayas is no longer unique, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t just as breathtaking. It does, however, expertly highlight just how amazing their adventure is and, similarly, how extraordinary it is for them to capture it on film. Perhaps I was just supremely in tune with the film, but I found myself incredibly aware of the filmmaking process throughout the film. This makes the journey all the more impressive, given the limited supplies the group brings and the extreme nature of Meru’s specific ascent strategy. And then there is the story, which is properly intense and full of incredible twists and turns. Filmmakers Jimmy Chin (who is a member of the climbing trio) and Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi fill in the appropriate backstories to build the climbers as actually interesting characters—this seems simple, but so many extreme climbing films struggle to do this properly. You will root for these characters, not just for the drama of their endeavor, but because the full scope of their human journeys is compelling both on and off the mountain. [Aaron]

The Nightmare

There are scenes from Rodney Ascher’s The Nightmare that I still think about even after several months since my initial viewing. I distinctly remember a chill running down my back when explaining to a friend the subject of this film: sleep paralysis. It’s a strange and terrifying phenomenon where sleepers are unable to move or speak while demonic creatures slowly approach. Ascher has the gall to interview his subjects suffering from sleep paralysis in their own bedrooms at night, which properly sets the mood and makes listening to their stories of night terrors all the more hair-raising. And while hearing people talk about their nightmares is one thing, Ascher adds a cinematic touch by showing re-enactments of these nightmares which really brings the testimonies to life. Some of these visualizations are a bit hokey (nightmares will always be scarier in our minds than on-screen), but it’s hard to shake images like the long shadowy figure with smoldering red eyes and sharp teeth. The Nightmare is the kind of film that sits with you long after the credits roll. [Dustin]

Of Men and War

Laurent Bécue-Renard’s Of Men and War stares directly into the wounded soul of a subject that’s rarely acknowledged and never explored. The Pathway Home, a therapy centre in California, helps treat soldiers with PTSD through group therapy sessions. Bécue-Renard films these sessions while also delving into some of the soldiers’ personal lives back home, shooting with a nonintrusive style that brings Frederick Wiseman (a director also appearing on this list) to mind. The therapy sessions provide a disturbing and powerful glimpse into the minds of these men, with each soldier providing a vivid account of the memories that paralyze them. Of Men and War doesn’t offer any answers, and while it ends on a hopeful note, it’s not exactly an optimistic one. Bécue-Renard recognizes the struggle these soldiers are going through is a lifelong process, and while his film doesn’t suggest therapy and emotional honesty are a cure, it does show their importance in providing the chance to deal with the psychological obstacles these men have to face every day. [C.J.]

The Royal Road

The title of Jenni Olson’s essay film refers to El Camino Real, the former 600-mile road that traveled across the Spanish missions in California. Olson uses this road to delve into topics both historical and personal: the history of California’s formation, an ill-fated trip from San Francisco to Los Angeles to meet a crush, the power of nostalgia, and Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo, among other topics. Linking all of these seemingly disparate elements together is Olson’s personal experience and voice, narrating in a dry tone over grainy 16mm footage of California landscapes. Over its short runtime, Olson’s ruminations manage to cohere into a fascinating whole, one that’s impossible to not find relatable in some way. Unlike most recent documentaries, who seem intent on doing nothing more than dictating and informing, The Royal Road is an exception, a film that allows viewers the room to breathe and, more importantly, to think. [C.J.]

Seymour: An Introduction

Wisdom is acquired with age, and Seymour Bernstein, 85-year-old retired concert pianist-turned teacher and subject of Seymour: An Introduction, has plenty to go around. The documentary invites us to sit beside Seymour’s deep well of knowledge and philosophy, serenading us with elegant photography and a measured pace. Interviews with his adoring pupils are insightful and heartening, but nothing compares to the magic of Seymour recalling pivotal moments in his extraordinary life journey. There’s a musicality to the filmmaking that’s beautifully apropos and is doubly impressive considering the filmmaker, actor Ethan Hawke, is relatively young in his career behind the camera. This isn’t just a movie that makes you feel good; it makes you feel enlightened. [Bernard]

With the amount of middlebrow, “journalistic” documentaries putting information first that come out of the woodwork every year to score some trophies, it’s easy to laud a documentary for being nothing more than an alternative. Praising a documentary can sometimes amount to doing a hypothetical comparison with a “bad” version of the same thing, pointing out what it doesn’t do rather than what it actually does; no talking heads, no overbearing score, no reliance on animations, no bad re-enactments, and other usual suspects when watching nonfiction. But this can be a lazy and reductive way to evaluate a film, undermining its actual achievements. A film like Laurent Bécue-Renard’s Of Men and War can easily make people fall into this trap, given its apolitical approach to a political topic. Using a vérité style that naturally brings Frederick Wiseman’s films to mind, Bécue-Renard’s film is initially surprising in how it places emotions—along with the act of confronting emotions—at the forefront. And by doing so, Bécue-Renard creates a powerful glimpse at the struggles of dealing with PTSD.

Bécue-Renard spent over six years filming Of Men and War, starting off by gaining access to The Pathway Home, a therapy centre in California that helps soldiers suffering from PTSD. This included filming the home’s intense group therapy sessions, where veterans (mostly from Iraq and/or Afghanistan) graphically describe their horrors from war that still haunt them. These sequences dominate the film with how harrowing and disturbing descriptions of death and destruction. The stories they tell tend to have a cinematic quality in the way they describe them, but it’s the graphic, realistic details that stick with them. One soldier talks about noticing a young man as a potential threat and taking him out, then sheds tears as he remembers part of the man’s brain falling on his boot as the body was getting put into a body bag. He remembers the body’s eye—the only one remaining—staring at him. While he fights through his tears, it’s apparent that he’s also holding back pure anger at the same time.

What’s interesting about these sequences, and why their impact is so strong, is the way Bécue-Renard films his subjects to highlight the despair of their situation. The soldiers sit around a table with the group therapist moderating the session, but Bécue-Renard sits behind the therapist. The therapist’s face is rarely shown, with the camera honing in on close-ups of the soldiers instead. The composition of the therapy scenes only heightens the isolation of these men, emphasizing their feelings of suffering in solitude. When Bécue-Renard cuts away to a reaction shot it’s only to the other soldiers in the room, the only other people in the room who can have empathy or an understanding of what everyone else is going through. Bécue-Renard’s direction shows off how impossible it is for viewers to be able to fully comprehend these soldiers’ pain while observing them with a distance that feels both justified and respectful.

Beyond the therapy sessions, scenes of the soldiers back home trying to live their daily lives add moments of levity and anxiety, depending on how well they’re handling a social or familial situation (when one soldier and his wife try to be friendly with another couple at a bar, it’s crushing to see how hard he’s trying to just act sociable). Bécue-Renard only focuses on the soldiers who have wives and/or children when he takes his camera away from The Pathway Home, a choice that feels deliberate in showcasing how high the stakes are for some of the subjects. Placed next to the therapy sessions, the scenes of what can sometimes look like basic family life take on a new context, framing every action or interaction as a constant struggle. Yet Of Men and War, while unflinching in its observation of the hardships that come with trying to deal with and potentially move on from intense trauma, provides a hopeful (and realistic) outlook. It shows the power and necessity of openness and communication with the healing process, and how the simple act of trying to better oneself is sometimes all it takes to make it happen.