To me, this year in film has been defined by ambivalence. More than ever, it seems, I’ve found myself having no idea how to feel about the movie I’ve just watched as the credits roll. The Tree of Life was breathtaking when hurtling through space and time, but rote when focusing on its central family; Melancholia was fascinating and unique when inflating its characters emotions to apocalyptic proportions, but tone deaf when dealing with its ensemble interactions; The Skin I Live In was delightfully fucked up in the abstract but a little dry in its execution. For the most part, though, I’d much rather a film be flawed and interesting than proficient and dull – all of the aforementioned films have made it into my top ten of the year. However, two films recently have left me completely stumped: Evan Glodell’s Bellflower and Lucky McKee’s The Woman.