Chris Nashawaty

It’s a diabetically sappy big-screen self-help seminar that should have been titled The Book of Schmaltz.

Loach’s film isn’t as stridently political as it probably sounds. These are just proud people who want to be treated with respect. There’s one slightly melodramatic turn near the end that felt off, but by then I was already three tissues deep.

Even though Jarmuch has a distinct directorial style, it’s his style. It’s impossible to imitate. These days, I can’t think of a higher compliment.

The Autopsy of Jane Doe is essentially a 90-minute episode of Jack Klugman’s late-’70s TV show "Quincy, M.E." with more graphic gore, goo, and guts.

It’s as good as screen acting gets.

Passengers is not very good. In fact, it’s pretty bad.

Rogue One would have been a very good stand-alone sci-fi movie if it came out under a different name. But what makes it especially exciting is how it perfectly snaps right into the Star Wars timeline and connects events we already know by heart with ones that we never even considered.

It’s stunningly ambitious and thrillingly alive the way the best movies are.

Shannon’s intensity is the best thing Frank & Lola has going for it. And it’s almost enough to make it work.

The too-clever conceit sabotages the whole thing.

The film has a stunningly hypnotic look thanks to Zach Kuperstein’s crisp black-and-white ­cinematography. It feels like a waking nightmare. It’s just enough to make you wonder how a film that’s so ugly managed to look so damn good.

A love letter to the theater—and a deeply poignant one at that—Lonny Price’s sentimental documentary Best Worst Thing That Ever Could Have Happened… is a bittersweet gem.

The Love Witch is so thin that if it turned sideways it would be invisible. It’s like a Bewitched episode stretched out to two hours. But boy, is it gorgeous to look at.

There’s something decidedly old-fashioned about the new Brad Pitt-Marion Cotillard spy thriller, Allied. And that ends up being a good thing.

Affleck has never had a role that matches his minimal, anti-charisma style like this one. His tendency to be mumbly and awkward and withholding fits his character perfectly. And Hedges, as a temperamental teenager working through loss in his own authentically teenage way, is a real discovery. Michelle Williams, as Lee’s ex-wife, doesn’t get many scenes, but she cracks your heart open in the ones she has.

With the exception of maybe two scenes, you’ve seen everything in this movie before.

True Memoirs is harmless, disposable junk food that has just enough laughs to make you feel like you didn’t get scammed.

Fantastic Beasts is two-plus hours of meandering eye candy that feels numbingly inconsequential.

We get to watch another unforgettable and incomparable Huppert performance.

As an introduction to a first-class director who shouldn’t require any introduction at all, By Sidney Lumet is a thoughtful and thought-provoking treat.

Doctor Strange is thrilling in the way a lot of other Marvel movies are. But what makes it unique is that it’s also heady in a way most Marvel movies don’t dare to be. It’s eye candy and brain candy.

Easily one of the most personal and most powerful films of the year.

Like its predecessor it’s an unremarkable placeholder until the next "Mission: Impossible" flick comes along.

It isn’t until the wonderful Gladstone comes along with her aching tomboy heartache and sad seeking eyes that the film finally burrows below the surface and finally hits a dramatic nerve. Unfortunately, by then, it’s too little too late.

A classed-up B-movie riff on "The Most Dangerous Game." Call it “Tex-Mexploitation.”

A so-so meditation on historical amnesia. It’s also so weighted down with mysticism and metaphor it forgets to quicken your pulse or whiten your knuckles.

Somehow, almost miraculously, Shannon makes her character become stronger as she gets weaker. It’s a wonderful performance.

Transpecos is a lean-and-mean atmospheric thriller that starts off tautly but ultimately slackens as it goes along.