Bill Goodykoontz

There is so much love and understanding of all the genres the film is skewering that What We Do in the Shadows transcends its lowbrow inspirations. It's a real treat.

McBaine and Moss expertly build tension leading toward the election. Last-minute surprises and frustratingly cynical attacks only increase the edge-of-your-seat aspect of the film.

It's a joy to watch Beckinsale attack the material — Lady Susan is one of those people whose interest in themselves and their own well-being is so great that it becomes contagious.

What Rukun wants, one suspects, is closure. What he gives the rest of us is a face in which to see the pain the butchers caused, a reminder that the architects of a massive tragedy remain present and unrepentant, the personification of the evil men do and a warning that it could happen again.

Olsen makes us understand, as best we can, Martha's plight. She has a tenuous grip on reality, and, thanks to Olsen's performance and Durkin's sure hand, by the film's end, so do we.

This is one of the strangest yet most satisfying movie experiences of the year, one of those films in which you can’t really appreciate what you’ve seen until it’s over. You just have to trust that the trip is worth the trouble. And it is.

A host of British acting royalty, meanwhile, roams around the film: Derek Jacobi as the Archbishop of Canterbury, Claire Bloom as Queen Mary, Timothy Spall as Winston Churchill and so on.

Only Yesterday is a mature work of art, no matter what the genre, no matter what the format, no matter what.

Kaufman and King somehow give felt puppets an independence they might otherwise have lacked. How? The magic of movies, I guess. Or, more likely, the magic of Kaufman’s mind.

Its images are classic, its story immediate and urgent. That's a pretty vital combination.

The acting is outstanding all the way around. But Stewart is brilliant. She looks, sounds and moves amazingly like the real Diana, but this is no impersonation. Instead it’s Stewart getting to the heart of the truth through her performance, her Diana a prisoner of the fame and adherence to tradition at all costs that trapped her.

There is so much beauty in Monster, and so much sadness.

Spare, haunting and in its own way beautiful, Ida is an absorbing film about discovering the truth, and the attendant price we pay to learn it.

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night is a terrific film, if you give yourself to it. You should, because, with Amirpour's blending of influences and pop culture, she has created a true original.

Paul Schrader’s First Reformed is an amazing examination of faith, a film that stays with you long after you have left the theater.

Leave No Trace is a beautiful film, heartbreaking in the self-awareness — both existing and burgeoning — of its characters.

It’s a sumptuous movie, with gorgeous cinematography (also by Dweck and Kershaw). It won’t necessarily make you want to rush out and pay a fortune for truffles to shave over your eggs. But it will make you appreciate people whose love for something has so fully informed their lives.

A sense of dread hovers over all these characters, and, by extension, the audience. It's in the air of the place, like oxygen. And vodka. Lots of vodka. Yet Zvyagintsev's achievement, or one of them, is creating a film that is not one long downer. It's not exactly a laugh riot, but we do care about these people.

It's all or nothing with Black Swan. Either you embrace its headlong descent into madness brought on by the pressures of artistic perfection, compounded by smothering anxiety, or you reject it. It's that simple.

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.

The catharsis found here is far quieter, and much more effective, whether it be the pain expressed in a student's essay or the honesty found in a simple gesture, one that ends the film in beautifully moving fashion.

Exceptionally well made, tougher than you'd think in its depictions of a troubled marriage and full of deep performances — it's outstanding.

Call Me by Your Name is a lush, heartbreakingly beautiful film about first love, but also the glories of youth, when everything is new and any number of paths open before you.

It is undeniably fun to see such a great movie sliced and diced and put back together in so many ways. Too often when we see a movie we like, we just say it’s good, recommend it to someone and leave it at that.

Blanchett navigates this journey with ferocious power — even as Lydia is losing her own. It sounds like a cliche, but her performance is so believable, so natural, which at times means so disturbing, that it doesn’t seem like she’s acting. She’s just being.

The film is slow at times, despite bursts of action, and Chandor could have let it breathe a little more. The seriousness grows stuffy every now and then, but these are small quibbles. A Most Violent Year is an outstanding movie about business and marriage, not necessarily in that order.

The film is not an epic. It's not a masterpiece. But it is an involving study of men searching, searching for answers, for belonging, for a foothold in life at a time when footholds were hard to find.

Even at its most disgusting, and it does get disgusting, the film is engrossing. It’s not that you can’t look away. It’s that you want to look and look again. That’s the lure of the vampire. And it’s the lure of “Nosferatu,” Eggers’ best film (at least so far).

Martin Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street is absurd, ridiculous, over the top, overindulgent, overlong, overstuffed, over-everythinged. And that is precisely the point.

As its title suggests, This Is Not a Film may not be what we're used to in a movie, but in many ways it's much, much more.

If Greene had simply told the story in more straightforward documentary fashion, Bisbee ’17 would be an interesting film. By telling the story within the story, he’s done something more: He’s made an urgent, powerful one.

Chomet's defiantly two-dimensional artwork is warm, inviting, beautiful, establishing immediately a comfort level, at least for audiences of, ahem, a certain age.

Neville, who won an Oscar for "20 Feet from Stardom," could have gone a different route, maybe try to dig up some dirt. But there really doesn't seem to be any. I don't know if it's Rogers' influence, but I like this film just the way it is.

The hidden magic in De Palma is Baumbach and Paltrow’s editing. The pacing is just right, and the stories flow, one from another. Sit back, relax, watch, listen and learn. It’s a good time at the movies.

Vartolomei’s performance is amazing. The way her face registers everything she endures, from grim determination to frustration to mental and physical agony, seems genuine, authentic.

Mostly it's brilliant, challenging, deliberate, scary as all get out. It's as much a portrait of a dysfunctional family as it is a horror movie. But don't let that relax you. It's definitely a horror movie.

It’s fascinating and funny while forcing us to consider the line between technology and art.

It's great when a movie messes with your head. And Ex Machina, screenwriter Alex Garland's directorial debut, does just that, pretty much from start to finish. The writer of "28 Days Later" and "Sunshine" purports to examine A.I., or artificial intelligence. What he's really after is something at once more exotic and more relatable — and infinitely less predictable: human nature.

It's Gerwig’s movie, Gerwig’s take on childhood and the patriarchy and feminism and love and death — boy, death — all wrapped in a package that continually surprises. So yeah, it’s not what you think it is. It’s better.

James Ponsoldt’s film, and its stars, Miles Teller and Shailene Woodley, continually take us in unexpected directions, giving the film an unexpected depth. It feels real, its emotions earned.

Passing is Rebecca Hall’s first feature film as a writer and director. You’d never know it. With her meticulous eye for detail, her beautiful framing of shots (in stunning black-and-white) and the wondrously moving performances she gets from her actors —to say nothing of her handling of the material (she wrote the script) — you’d think Hall had been at this for a while.

It doesn’t always make sense. But it is fascinating — and fun — to watch.

It's Douglas' movie - and you've got a fine movie.

The Cabin in the Woods is a fantastic poke in the eye of our horror-movie expectations.

It’s a brilliant performance, Boseman coaxing so many emotions and feelings out of a deceptively complex character. His expressive eyes tell a lot of the story for him.

127 Hours is based on Ralston's memoir, and it's a really good movie because director Danny Boyle is a genius.

This isn't a movie for everyone, but for fans of quirky charm leavened occasionally by uncomfortable, realistic exchanges, it's a small delight.

The way Park composes each frame is masterful. Sometimes the set-ups are intended to throw you off the scent of what’s happening, but wow, who cares when a film looks like this?

It is a beautiful excavation, fueled by tremendous performances from frequent Almodóvar collaborator Penélope Cruz and relative feature-film newcomer Milena Smit.

It’s the kind of movie that, if you give yourself to it, you’ll love.

The movie is as gorgeous as it is disturbing, and that’s a powerful combination. It may be about the beginning of the end of the world or the beginning of something else entirely. I’d be lying if I said I understand every aspect of the film, but I was engrossed trying to.

It doesn’t have to be a great movie. It’s a great experience, like a beautiful summer day.

Please Give is an almost perfectly rendered slice of life, buoyant with wonderful performances.

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

Frozen is a delightful animated musical, a return to form for Disney animation with an intriguing story and terrific songs.

There is an edginess to Babygirl, an uncomfortableness that is part and parcel of the subject matter. But it’s somehow accessible. Maybe that’s a plus, maybe that’s a minus; perhaps it depends on your taste for this sort of thing. But there’s undeniable power in Kidman’s performance, one of the most interesting and, along the way, best of the year.

There isn't a false note among the performances. It's the first movie for Hayward and Gilman; whatever awkwardness they display is appropriate. Willis may never have been better. Norton is fantastic. Murray and McDormand are also ... well, you get the idea.

It stands on its own as another in a long line of attempted explanations of what made Dylan Dylan. The more the merrier.

Sometimes infuriating but never depressing, The Florida Project doesn’t just shine a light on people rarely represented in anything but a condescending manner. Instead it brings us into their world and introduces us to its inhabitants in a meaningful way. We care about them.

It's feel-good, no question about it. But it's also absorbing, important and inspiring.

For a movie that seems at times to have no idea what it's trying to do, 'Silver Linings Playbook' is compulsively watchable. ... Throwing together so many movie tropes and blending them is both a brilliant idea and a scary one, but one that Russell proves well capable of handling.

The Lego Movie is a delight, a funny, fast-moving film that should satisfy adults and children alike.

The film only works if Ethan Hawke is scary. And he is.

Genuine, honest, thrilling.

All of Us Strangers, defies easy categorization in the usual fashion. But it’s also easy to place it in one category: that of really, really good movies.

The Rider is a beautiful movie, a Western of sorts that isn’t limited to that classification as it chronicles the life of a down-on-his-luck cowboy who simply keeps on living, as difficult as that sometimes can be.

Melancholia is an intense, exhausting experience. That may not sound appealing, and for some, it won't be. But nor should it be off-putting. Proceed with caution, perhaps. But proceed nevertheless.

This is a story about taking risks, about putting the good of the country before your own. It sounds corny and clichéd, but even in Spielberg’s hands it doesn’t come off that way.

I can say without hesitation that if you’re looking for something ambitious and difficult and super weird — and satisfying, in the end, though think of that in loose terms — I recommend the rather amazing experience.

For much of the movie Morris simply lets the loquacious McKinney talk, and she never, ever stops. And she never disappoints.

Like the elements of a good hit song, it all comes together and seems fresh. It may sound like something you’ve heard before, but it also sounds new.

Brooklyn often feels like a throwback in the best way, while Ronan has an old-time star turn, and she makes the most of it.

The Act of Killing is a horrifying film, a surreal experience that explores the limits of human cruelty. It’s a film that is absolutely hard to watch. It’s also a film that absolutely should be seen.

The whole film is an exercise in trust and the lack thereof. In the end, it’s a kind of horror film, really, a reminder that these sorts of things were endured by so many for so long, with hope an unlikely ally.

A mixture of magical realism, Southern gothic, coming-of-age movie, star turn for first-timers, disaster story and out-and-out strangeness. It's unlike any film you've seen.

Of its many brilliant aspects, the film does illuminate the numbing grind of real life when you’re trying to make art.

It is intelligent, moving and wholly original.

Not just a fascinating character study but a kind of horror movie as well.

If it sounds like so much backroom politicking, it is. But it's exceptionally interesting, entertaining backroom politicking.

Clever and current without being cynical, smart without being condescending, funny without being exclusionary to grown-ups or to kids.

It’s exciting filmmaking, and Cooper rarely lets up.

A terrific piece of entertainment. The financial lingo will please money wonks. But the film as a whole focuses more on the people and personalities who went into such a catastrophic failure.

Boasting terrific acting, a brilliant soundtrack, outrageous outfits and hair, and a kinda-sorta based-on-fact story of ambition and greed, it’s relentless, in the best possible way.

Although it can be harrowing and disturbing, Joachim Trier's film -- and Lie's performance -- are so masterful that the movie seems more like a searing portrait of self-discovery and realization, with the understanding that not everything you learn about yourself will be pleasant.

Room is a terrific movie, one that has two outstanding performances, confident direction and a story line that is both harrowing and moving.

If one definition of art is seeing what everyone else does, only in a different way, The Holdovers fits that bill. It’s a delight.

As with First Reformed, Schrader crashes right through the boundaries separating the literal from the surreal. It is a strange journey, increasingly so, but an immensely satisfying one.

It’s a heartfelt salute from Branagh to his hometown, and what he loved there.

What Scorsese has really made is a beautifully crafted love letter to movies, the passion of his life. What sounded like an odd pairing winds up being a perfect fit.

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

Detroit, as a movie, is all over the place, yet oddly that messiness is one of its strengths. It is also appropriate. Necessary, even. It fits.

David Fincher's meticulous direction pays off in spades. From the way he expresses the book's construction — not quite he-said/she-said, but a version of that — to the way the film looks (cold and uncaring, like its characters) to his work with actors (go Tyler Perry!), Gone Girl delivers.

BlacKkKlansman is Spike Lee’s best movie in years, bringing together everything that makes him such a dynamic, exciting, urgent filmmaker – as well as some of what can drive you crazy about him, too.

A delightful film - gentle, playful, creative and ultimately happy - though it's a tricky journey.

The Big Short manages to entertain you while making you really, really mad.

The transition between junior high and high school is exhilarating, traumatic, funny and horrifying, and Bo Burnham's Eighth Grade captures the whole experience perfectly.

Bursts at the seams with wild creativity.