Fury

Alex, a young actress, is sexually assaulted at a New Year’s Eve party at a friend’s house. That night, she never manages to see the face of her aggressor, a fact that will end up eating away at her. Throughout the following year, she will have to face feelings of guilt, disgust and shame. While Alex tries to channel all her pain through theatre, where she takes on the role of the famously vengeful Medea, her brother, Adrian, must face the guilt he feels at not having been able to protect his sister and his impulse to let himself be carried away by his own decisions. What were once the typical conflicts you might expect between any siblings, give way to much more extreme and complex emotions.

Our read · Fury (2025) reads as a sombre, steady, grounded drama entry — measured in intensity, mid-stakes in scope, measured in temperature, ambivalent in outlook. Hand-scored on twelve axes of taste — mood, pacing, weirdness, hope, stakes, humour, reality, density, warmth, auteur, intensity, and era — with a derived palette drawn from its dominant cinematography.