Alex Harrison

Viewers willing to give it the same, almost spellbound focus the protagonist gives this case will find it a compelling meditation on things as wide-ranging as racial otherness, fraught mother-daughter relationships, and the real-world slipperiness of concepts like truth and justice.

Tótem's camera is always studying the actors, exploratory and intrusive in the manner of a child's perceptive gaze.

The Brutalist is a colossal achievement, balancing intimacy and scale at every level of craft. At 3 hours, 35 minutes, it asks a lot from its viewers. Every second is well spent.

The movie is so interested in archeology (the credits dedicate it "to all archeologists, custodians of every end") that it becomes an analogue for the viewing experience. Rohrwacher asks us to interpret La Chimera the way archaeologists interpret fragments of the past.

The characters are animated with such clarity of expression, and the film is edited so expertly, that lines just aren't necessary.

Flow makes us think and feel in equal measure.

Perhaps, Kaurismäki's movie suggests, disaffection is a valid response to this reality we live in. So, when these two people meet and sparks fly, it becomes all the more meaningful.

It is a richly layered work of art.

If One Fine Morning offers no great revelations, it is full of echoes, parallels, and sparks that leave the viewer activated beyond its runtime, perhaps engaging with the world a little more thoughtfully than they were before watching.

Thankfully for us, though, a film is not a meal. We can watch The Taste of Things as many times as we'd like.

It's artful, atmospheric, and observant; a slice-of-life film told in a hushed tone. It's dedicated to recreating a specific time and place and dropping us into it. There's a gentle steadiness to the way it moves.

A lot happens, story-wise, but if the film had just followed Sylvia and Saul learning how to be around each other, it would've been enough.

Savor Hit Man, however you come across it - it's not every day the movies entertain us in this way at this level of execution anymore.

One of Dreams' strengths is that its dramatic devices pair well with its interests.

The cast deserves real credit for that, Biscayart especially. His physical expressiveness is truly extraordinary, and without his performance to transition us to the final act, Kill the Jockey doesn't succeed.

This film may want to scare us, but it also strives to make us as observant and inquisitive as its heroine. We become active viewers, learning and making connections that fill the gaps left open in the worldbuilidng.

Ignore the publicity bluster, and you'll find at the core of Song Sung Blue the same modest dream to entertain that drives the Sardinas. Is it one of the best films of the year? Certainly not. But a good time at the movies? You betcha.

Truly, all of Babygirl is fascinating to watch. There's such clear perspective in the filmmaking, and even though I've dwelt on Reijn's more thoughtful touches, the defining trait for many might be a wicked sense of humor. Laughter came easy and often for me and the audience I saw it with – sometimes with the characters, sometimes at them, but always with the movie. It's as if we're being reminded that, however serious the themes, this is supposed to be fun. And it is. But be prepared to find yourself grappling with a whole lot more.

This is not a biopic of an artist so much as a human artwork, capturing the many questions he provokes and the contradictory answers that define him.

Kurzel's film can be watched at face value, and anyone inclined to like this type of movie will enjoy it. But as it chugs along, it also shows us what hate can look like and what it can do. Like Husk's story, it is a warning, and it leaves us with the chilling sense that the events depicted haven't, or maybe can't, come to an end.

Beautiful, moving, and sporting a compelling metaphor for parenthood, Twomey's film is heartfelt in the way that Pixar and Ghibli films are, making it a worthy pick for a family movie night.

In the moment, I thought it was very successful, and quite moving. In retrospect, however, the lens that we're forced to view the film through cheapens what we actually spent most of our time watching. Omaha can't really be seen the same way twice, but it's well worth it for that first viewing experience – and for John Magaro's performance, which will surely be some of the most quietly powerful work of the year.

Cameron has said in interviews that sharing directorial credit was his idea, and he repeatedly shows us why. In one pre-show scene, the two of them map out where to place the cameras to best capture a particular part of the performance; in another, Eilish explains to camera what she's after with the show's song-specific color scheme. This concert is a work of art, and Eilish is its director – with this film, Cameron is less striving to create his own art than to capture Eilish's.

It's a journey as much defined by tedium as tension, but to paraphrase the assassin, if you can't handle a little boredom, this might not be the film for you.

If entertainment is all you're looking for, you'll find it, and you'll even have the fun of debating the accents and VFX as you leave the theater. But there's also a lot more to find beneath its surface pleasures, making it a worthy Christmas capstone for what has been a very good year for adults at the movies.

That exquisite balance of art and entertainment is exactly what makes each Bong Joon-ho film a gift to be savored – here's hoping his next one doesn't take quite so long to reach us.

It's as rewarding as it is challenging.

Corrigan approaches his film's many user interfaces with a show-don't-tell philosophy. Every click, every keystroke, is treated like an opportunity to reveal personality. It not only keeps the screenlife conceit interesting, but makes it feel vital.