Bill Goodykoontz

It’s creepy as all get out and features a great performance from Nina Kiri, on-screen alone for most of the film, as a podcast host who has moved back to her childhood home to take care of her dying mother (Michèle Duquet). Things get weird.

What’s most remarkable about the film, which was shot in Iraq, are the performances. The cast members are not actors. They’re non-professionals, at least, acting for the first time. Yet their performances feel so genuine, so lived-in.

The Testament of Ann Lee is a biographical film about a real person, though one about whom a great number of details aren’t known. It runs up against some rough patches during the telling of the story, but overall it is immensely enjoyable, an unflinching (and nonjudgmental) look at faith, no matter how bizarrely we may think it’s practiced.

Skarsgård makes the character a little sad, a lot delusional but never a joke. And he makes “Dead Man’s Wire” an underrated gem not to sleep on.

Marty Supreme is breakneck, it’s nerve wracking and it is above all entertaining as all get out. It makes you eager to see what Chalamet’s going to do next.

It’s fun, it’s smart and yes, it actually does have something to say. Delivered in this way, I think people are more inclined to listen.

It is devastating and magnetic and most of all brilliant. Don’t miss it.

Grande and Erivo bring that relationship to life, making “Wicked: For Good” more emotional than you’d expect. These are two really good actors whose investments in what could have been let’s-put-on-a-show theater-kid performances go much deeper.

Lawrence takes up that challenge and then some, with a performance that could have been rendered in broad strokes, and sometimes is, but also relies on small moments, a look in her eyes, a quick movement, to draw us in and keep us there.

Every image feels intentional, with nothing left to chance. (This results in some amazing images, many of them involving Stone’s face.) Along with the precision of the performances, this makes Bugonia one of the more enjoyably weird times at the movies in recent memory.

Bigelow brilliantly builds tension, to the extent that the third version we see is every bit as nerve-wracking as the first if not more so. This is nail-biting stuff, agonizing to sit through.

The whole movie is amazing.

My interpretation is that it’s a scary, funny film with a lot beneath the surface. And it’s certainly preferable to watching the news.

Butler keeps you hooked and keeps you hoping. It’s a really good performance in a good movie, and proof of Aronofsky’s versatility. There’s some virtuosity in there somewhere, too.

It isn’t the kind of movie where you nitpick the details. It’s the kind of movie where you float along from one scene to the next, buoyed by catchy hits like “Golden” and “Soda Pop.” They don’t just serve the story, but drive it.

This is a crazy movie, in the best possible way. Body horror films have to be willing to get nuts to really work ― “The Substance” knew this, for instance. And Franco and Brie, along with Shanks, fully commit to this.

Truth, justice and the American way” mean far different things than they did when Donner made his “Superman” film. Except they don’t. Some people have just tried to hijack them for their own political purposes. “Superman” is Gunn’s attempt to take them back. Let’s hope it works.

A fun and thrilling film which at times plays like a car race somebody stuck a movie into the middle of.

It’s a horror-movie coming-of-age story, absolutely bonkers and gory and at its heart an art film about finding your own way in a world that has never made any sense since you’ve been in it, which is probably what the world feels like to any kid growing up, only most kids don’t have to protect themselves from zombies who want to devour them.

It’s tempting to say that Song went a more traditional route, but her second film is in fact a bold reshaping of the romcom. I can’t wait for her third.

No, it’s not “The Shining.” It’s not trying to be. But it is a salve when we need one most, and that’s a lot.

Part of the fun of watching Mountainhead, the entertaining first feature film from “Succession” creator Jesse Armstrong, is marveling at the antics of the tech bros who already run a good chunk of the world, and want to run more. Part of the horror is how realistic it all seems. Part of the disappointment is how far it falls into “Three Stooges”-level farce.

With attacks on diversity and inclusion more abundant and dangerous than ever, “Deaf President Now!” is more relevant than ever.

Too often in this long, long slog of Marvel movies, we are expected to have an advanced degree in Marvel-ology to understand even the trailer for a twice-removed TV offshoot. Until the very end, Thunderbolts* is free of this intellectual-property tyranny, content to carve its own funky little way.

Director Lorcan Finnegan is relentless in his pursuit of disquiet. But “The Surfer” is not just an exercise in making a hard-to-watch movie. It’s also a commentary on toxic masculinity and the absurdity of bro culture that poisons X and podcasts and other forms of media.

It doesn’t all add up; it doesn’t even all make sense. Which befits a story involving a man lost in loss, desperate to regain what he cannot. Reality isn’t as important here as feeling something. If you give “The Shrouds” a chance, you will.

Sinners is a fascinating movie, overflowing with creativity and bold ideas.