Bill Goodykoontz

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

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.

Gleeson is terrific as Faraday struggles — with his feelings for Caroline, with her feelings for him, with the notion that some of what’s going on at Hundreds Hall may not have a rational explanation. The evolution of his character is subtle, but hauntingly effective.

A compelling film, and an excruciatingly entertaining one.

Byrne is a delight.

Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood is a fascinating and undeniably irresistible look into that world. You just feel, despite Bowers' sunny disposition, a little dirty about enjoying it.

What's most enjoyable about Crazy Rich Asians is that, while it never forfeits its sense of responsibility, it also never forfeits its sense of fun. Chu wants you to slobber over the settings, to imagine what a life like this might be like — and to ensure that being Asian is a part of that.

Dark Money exposes the dangers of unbridled, anonymous political spending so expertly that it will make you fume with anger, practically quake with distress. Which is exactly why you need to see it.

The movie is a big disappointment, because ultimately Slender Man does not get the full-on creep-out treatment such an intriguing character deserves. Here he's just a generic horror bad guy, doing standard horror-bad-guy things. He could be anything, really, and therefore winds up, like the movie, being not much.

Whether you like The Meg depends on how much you like seeing Jason Statham in and out of a wetsuit, doing action-hero things. He's certainly good at it, and he's the best thing about the movie, not that the competition is particularly fierce.

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.

Dog Days isn't so much a movie as an emotional delivery system, meant to make you laugh a little, cry a little and say, "Awww" about 10,000 times. On that front, it's a complete success. As an actual film, well, not so much.

McQueen is an intriguing look at genius, its inspiration and ultimately its cost.

Puzzle just kind of chugs along at its own pace, one of those small movies that packs a bigger punch, one in which, sorry, all the pieces fit.

D'Souza fans and Trump apologists will flock to this, misguided moths to a misleading flame. In that way, it's a perfect representation of the current climate. In every other way, it's a mess.

Whether it’s the next in a long line or a summation of a fun series, Mission: Impossible — Fallout is a movie that all but defines escapism at its finest.

It could be a really showy role, but Phoenix is patient, letting the character, and the audience, come to him. It's a journey worth taking.

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.

The King is one of those films that we sometimes see being made while they're making it.

Johnson is his usual amiable self, but the best thing about the movie is Campbell.

Sorry to Bother You, Boots Riley's see-it-to-believe-it feature debut as a director, goes from agreeably strange to weird to surreal, but its brilliance lies in how it never stops feeling real, genuine, lived-in.

As with most prequels, there's ultimately not a lot of suspense, since we know what's going to happen in the next installments. Tell us something something to care about.

Much like "Ant-Man," it's a kind of pressure-relief valve, coasting on Paul Rudd's goofy charm. That's more on display than in the first film; returning director Peyton Reed manages not to shrink Rudd's appeal when he shrinks his character.

Sicario: Day of the Soldado is exciting, and still delivers nihilistic thrills. But this time around, the filmmakers are satisfied with that and not much more.

The commercials were funny and unexpected. The movie, not so much, although there are some solid laughs.

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

J.A. Bayona's film never figures out what it wants to be, casting about for a coherent tone. Thanks in large part to Derek Connolly and Colin Trevorrow's script, it doesn't find one. But at least it has some fun making the effort.

The biggest problem is the whiplash-inducing tonal shifts. Director Jeff Tomsic, working from a script by Mark Steilen and Rob McKittrick, swings from violent slapstick to tender moments in slapdash fashion. You can’t get a handle on it, though maybe that’s fitting in a movie about trying to keep from being tagged.

It’s good — funny, smart and contemporary. By definition it can’t be as groundbreaking as the first film, but never does it feel like a cash grab.

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.

Writer and director Drew Pearce makes his feature debut in a confused, jumbled film that never quite gets its story straight.

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.

Thanks to Layton's filmmaking choices, American Animals ends up being not so much a crime movie as an examination of truth and memory, as well as blame and responsibility. And it's a lot better for it.

Bullock’s performance anchors the movie — and nearly drags it down. Ocean’s 8 has the cast, and the cultural moment, it needs. It just doesn’t do enough with it.

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

On Chesil Beach, Dominic Cooke’s adaptation of Ian McEwan’s bestseller, features a couple of outstanding performances, but you have to suffer through some serious heartbreak to enjoy them. If “enjoy” is even the word. This is seriously depressing stuff. But good! Really. Don’t let the downbeat vibe scare you off.

There are shortcomings in this film, and most of them are Wenders’ responsibility. But there is also inspiration here, if you’re willing to look for it.

These supremely talented women are put through embarrassing paces by director and co-writer Bill Holderman. It’s meant to be a film about a reawakening of desire, and thus life. It turns out to be a wince-inducing mess.

Denis (“Beau Travail,” “35 Shots of Rum”) is a very particular filmmaker, forcing you to adjust to her rhythms. Never is that more apparent than the last scene, which goes on for a quarter of the film or more, right through the end credits and beyond.

A perfectly capable movie that has chases and romance and double-crosses and double-double-crosses and action and is, ultimately, absolutely inessential.

Deadpool 2 is, above all else, a lot of fun. (And yes, you must stay for the post-credit scenes.) Sometimes it maybe doesn’t take itself seriously enough (after about the 50th crack you do kind of want to tell Reynolds to hold off for a minute). But in a genre that takes itself so deadly seriously, this is like a breath of fresh air.

The elements are in place for a decent little movie, but Loach overplays everything, offering nothing in the way of surprises. Bobby’s supposed transformation isn’t particularly revelatory, but then, neither is anything else.

What’s as striking as the violence is Fargeat’s confidence as a filmmaker. She risks absurdity at every turn, fearlessly daring the audience to accept unlikely scenarios. Take that challenge. However difficult “Revenge” may be to watch at times, it’s worth it.

Racer and the Jailbird, the inelegantly translated title of “Le Fidele,” is a first-rate caper movie. It’s also a pretty good romance. And a boring, suffocating melodrama.

It’s a movie devoid of storytelling momentum, conflict and, worst of all, much in the way of laughs.

The best thing about Ghost Stories — and there are a lot of good things — is the confidence of its directors.

Lelio, who also directed the excellent “Gloria” and last year’s Oscar winner for best foreign film, “A Fantastic Woman,” never shortchanges the desire or the faith, a neat balancing act between the competing elements at the heart of Disobedience, and the success of which makes it so compelling and worthwhile.

RBG, Betsy West and Julie Cohen’s engrossing documentary about Ruth Bader Ginsburg, is clearly meant to praise the 85-year-old Supreme Court justice, and it does a fine job of it.

Some surprises are more effective than others. But what holds the film together are a couple of really strong performances by Charlize Theron and Mackenzie Davis. They have a terrific, and unique, chemistry that helps smooth over a few rough patches.

Bad Samaritan is a horrible little movie with two things going for it: one wigged-out performance and one genuinely terrific line that's so great, you want to be able to say that it saves the film.

Both Garrel and Martin are good. And it’s important to note that Hazanavicius is quite adept at the comedic bits, as well as at the occasional more-serious scenes, which deal with the disintegration of the marriage. The problem is his inability to merge the disparate tones.

It’s a promising debut for Böhm, with a lot of promise. But it’s a home run for Powley, who makes Wildling worth watching even when it shouldn’t be.

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.

Thanos is the most interesting, and most complex, character here.

What really saves Super Troopers 2, to the extent that it even wants to be saved, is how gleefully the Broken Lizard bunch goes about its work.

At the beginning of the film, you want Hong to work through the scenes faster. By the time it’s done, you’ll wish they lasted longer. That’s a kind of magic, too.

At times his film is genuinely absorbing, offering insight into the madness and euphoria of artistic creation, along with the sometimes-crushing doubt. Other times it’s just Armie Hammer sitting there. Nothing horrible about that. Just not great, either.

I Feel Pretty is a good idea that never quite clicks the way it should

It’s a really good film, but it’s certainly not an easy one to watch.

At times the film threatens to become relentlessly bleak, but never fully so, thanks in large part to Plummer’s performance. And cinematographer Magnus Nordenhof Jønck finds beauty in the most desolate places; even flashing police lights set against nightfall are inviting.

Metz does a really nice job of shooting the final match, of ratcheting up the tension. Then again, the five-set marathon does a nice job of that all by itself. Gudnason is good as Borg, but mostly he’s a portrait of tightly coiled silence, occasionally lashing out. LaBeouf is the best thing about the movie.

Aardvark, while it has its moments, never lives up to the potential the cast would suggest.

It’s a lame, scare-free film that wants really badly to work in the vein of “It Follows,” but has none of the intelligence.

Seriously, the movie is pretty awful, but Johnson, as ever, seems to be having a ball, even when he’s all serious and concerned and shot up and beaten up and building-dropped-upon.

There is not a lot more to the story other than the effort to stay quiet and, thus, stay alive. But the pregnancy, along with a couple of other squirm-inducing set pieces, is enough to keep you on edge.

Chappaquiddick is a study of arrogance, of power and influence wielded corruptly to cast facts into doubt.

The Miracle Season is a pleasant surprise, the rare inspirational sports movie that actually earns its tears.

If the cast wasn’t so talented and so committed to doing some heavy lifting, Finding Your Feet would be a gigantic misstep.

Sherriff doesn’t offer any great answers here. It’s not like his play ended wars. But it’s a timely reminder that for all of the talk and negotiation and blustering and posturing, war means death, and “Journey’s End” brings that message home.

Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs is delightful, giddy fun, but it’s more than that. It’s also insightful and relevant, all while existing inside one of the signature wildly creative, self-contained worlds Anderson creates.

Visually, the movie is amazing — jaw-droppingly so. This is as technologically impressive as anything Spielberg has done, if not more so. The story, on the other hand, based on the bestselling novel by Ernest Cline, doesn’t just allow for narrative shortcuts; it practically demands them.

Lots of movies mix comedy and horror. But Armando Iannucci’s The Death of Stalin makes real-life horrors the source of hilarity — and it is hilarious — while never making light of the insanity that inspired it.

Foy is terrific, as is Pharoah.

It’s better than a “Transformers” movie. Is that damning with faint praise? I’m not sure it’s praise at all. But it is true. Pacific Rim Uprising is, at least for about half the movie, better than a Michael Bay exercise in eardrum shattering. The sequel isn’t as good as the original, however, which probably isn’t a surprise.

All the action leads inexorably toward the unavoidable destination.