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K. O. is one of those films that doesn't pretend to be anything else: straight-up action, violent and relentless. The plot is just an excuse to watch UFC star Cyril Gane unleash his physical power on screen. And while the story doesn't break new ground, the frantic pace and fight sequences make sure there's no time to get bored.

The main character carries a past marked by guilt and is forced back into violence when a new conflict arises. By his side, a police officer who doesn't always follow the rules provides an interesting contrast, though the film barely explores her motivations. Everything moves fast, with the spotlight firmly on the punches and chases.

What really works here are the brutal action sequences. Gane may not be a versatile actor, but physically he delivers exactly what's expected: strength, agility, and sheer presence. Some scenes, like the nightclub fight or the one in the police station, are shot with a raw energy that recalls the best of modern action cinema.

Anyone looking for depth or layered drama won't find it here. K. O. Keeps things simple: brutal fights, occasional comic relief, and a tight runtime that plays to its advantage.

In the end, it doesn't reinvent the genre, but it does exactly what it promises: ninety minutes of stylized violence and fast-paced entertainment.

Mikaela is one of those films that doesn't pretend to be more than it is: it delivers action, tension, and a few twists that are enough to keep you hooked. Daniel Calparsoro sticks to his familiar formula of heist-driven thrillers, and while he doesn't take big risks, the result works. It's easy to watch, doesn't demand much, but manages to entertain -and that's exactly what you expect from this kind of movie.

What really makes the difference here is Antonio Resines. No matter the role, he always feels believable and close to the audience. His presence brings humanity and a touch of irony that balances the moments of higher tension. That ability to blend drama with light comedy gives the film a natural charm that keeps it from becoming too routine.

The story leans on familiar clichés with the occasional surprise. It's not groundbreaking, but it handles pacing well: when there's action, it delivers; when it needs breathing space, it slows down. Sometimes it feels predictable, but never to the point of becoming dull.

Visually, Calparsoro proves his skill in heist and chase sequences. The editing is sharp, the action is well staged, and it's refreshing that he doesn't rely excessively on CGI. That said, there are moments where you wish for more grit, something riskier that could lift the film above simple functional entertainment.

What's interesting is the attempt to bring a human layer to the story. It doesn't just stick to spectacle but tries to make the audience connect with the characters. It doesn't always succeed, but the effort is welcome in a genre often satisfied with pure showmanship.

In the end, Mikaela is a straightforward commercial thriller that delivers exactly what it promises: an entertaining ride of about ninety minutes. It may not break new ground, but with Resines in top form and Calparsoro's steady hand, it does its job - and keeps you entertained while it lasts.

The Night Always Comes builds on a very powerful premise: a woman forced to take extreme measures to save her family's home. With that setup, it seemed inevitable that tension and emotion would combine into a story of great weight. Yet what begins with intensity gradually loses impact due to a script that doesn't always sustain its own ambitions.

Vanessa Kirby is, without question, the film's driving force. Her presence fills the screen, conveying the pain and desperation of a woman cornered by circumstance. The problem is that her talent sometimes outshines the material itself: she's such a strong performer that it becomes difficult to buy into the fragility of her character, wrapped as it is in a drama that feels overly calculated.

The direction has its strengths. Benjamin Caron knows how to create a bleak atmosphere, with moments where the audience feels the suffocating weight surrounding the protagonist. But the visual design is too polished: the streets, the interiors, everything looks crafted for a postcard rather than a raw narrative, which hurts the film's authenticity.

Narratively, it starts strong, transmitting a sense of urgency that hooks you early. Over time, though, the situations feel increasingly forced. Certain twists seem driven more by a need to keep up tension than by natural storytelling. That lack of internal consistency turns what should have been an emotional journey into something mechanical.

Even so, it's hard not to feel sympathy for the lead. Her struggle to keep going evokes empathy, even if the script pushes emotions too hard. Instead of letting the story breathe, it insists on underlining every dramatic beat. This drains spontaneity from a drama that could have been far more devastating.

In the end, The Night Always Comes is watchable and held together by Kirby's intensity, but it falls short of what its opening promised. It has its moments and conveys the weight of despair, but in a way that feels too manufactured to truly leave a lasting mark.