Christopher Schobert

Like the main character’s actions, Park’s film is rather undisciplined in its development. Yet it’s downright exhilarating to watch such a skilled director unleash his fury. It’s also deliriously funny.

Rental Family could have gone deeper, darker, and more boldly into the oddities of the human rental market. But that would be a different film. It seems silly to come down too hard on this good-natured comedy-drama––especially for offering a much more impressive performance than the one that earned Fraser an Oscar.

While Wake Up Dead Man fails to reach the highs of Knives Out and Glass Onion, it nevertheless solidifies Johnson’s reliability to deliver thoughtful thrills.

While Robinson’s full-length feature as star does not reach his show’s highs, it’s still a hysterically funny, pitch-black comedy.

Minahan and Klass struggle to balance the film’s many characters and disparate storylines, but at the same time they’ve created a film populated by people who are wildly compelling.

The result is a smart, emotionally satisfying exploration of people who may no longer have a place in modern Las Vegas.

Eden wants to leave the audience brimming with respect for the survival skills of Floreana’s inhabitants. Unfortunately, the endless scenes of discord are what will be remembered. This is a script problem that’s never solved. Howard’s ambition is to be applauded, but that alone is not enough to make for successful cinema.

Bring Them Down is not a great film. It’s occasionally compelling thanks to its haunting, almost otherworldly locations in Ireland. Mainly, though, what stands out are performances of the ever-intense Christopher Abbott, Nora-Jane Noone, and, most notably, Barry Keoghan.

North of Normal is an affecting drama about the life-altering impact of a youth in the wild. Happily, it embraces subtlety rather than over-the-top histrionics, resulting in a study of teenage wildlife that resonates strongly.

Smith expertly weaves the words of Mothersbaugh and Casale with film clips, old commercials, and, eventually, actual footage of the band’s earliest days to clarify what de-evolution, Devo-style, was all about.

Broomfield has created the definitive documentary on the early days of the Rolling Stones; even more crucially, he has shown both how the Stones became THE STONES and the cost of that success.

The Peasants is a histrionic and often-ludicrous bummer, one that wastes the deeply committed performance of star-in-the-making Kamila Urzedowska. The Welchmans deserve credit for developing a unique style. Now it is time to write words that match these images.

With a little more Keaton charm, a sharper script, and a bit more filmmaking verve, Knox may have succeeded.

Ultimately, The End We Start From is a success because its focus is not on the tropes of post-apocalyptic cinema. Instead it zeroes in on the love between a mother and her child, and that makes all the difference.

In many ways Lee is a perfect festival crowd-pleaser––handsomely made, well-acted, based on a true story, filled with recognizable stars. While it is not a great film, it is undoubtedly a good one, and that’s enough to warrant a recommendation.

Little Richard was everything, and thanks to Lisa Cortés’ film his influence on everyone from Elvis Presley and Jimi Hendrix to Bad Brains and Harry Styles can never again be doubted.

I Get Knocked Down is both entertaining and insightful, and it is hard not to be moved by Bruce’s MO: “I don’t want to give up. I don’t want to just accept things as they are.” He may worry that he is a one-hit wonder. Still, a hit’s a hit, and getting up again more than 20 years later is admirable.

If Regan’s film is not very memorable, it’s also, without question, wholly believable. She captures the complexities of an abbreviated childhood and early parenthood with real insight, and with Georgie has created a delightful protagonist.

O’Connor, who also scripted, adroitly manages the feat of making a 19th-century period piece burst with contemporary feeling.

The warm, witty Fabelmans is Spielberg at his most revealing, and watching him reflect on his past is downright extraordinary.

While Glass Onion is not better than the 2019 outing, it is almost as enjoyable––a noteworthy victory in and of itself.

Undeniably funny, very well-acted, and wise in its tonal focus, Weird plays as entertainment that could have been much, much more. There is still much to admire and enjoy, not the least of which is a genuinely triumphant, note-perfect performance from Daniel Radcliffe.

Spin Me Round never reaches classic status, but works as an enjoyable, sometimes uproarious subversion of rom-com tropes. Pull up a chair, and mangia.

Whether you know the truth going in or not, My Old School is a hugely entertaining charmer.

Pirates is a fine film, and for Peters, Edusah, Elazour, and director Yates, it is undoubtedly a preview of even greater successes to come.

The stakes are low, drama minimal, structure formless. It makes for a viewing experience that is occasionally enjoyable and largely unengaging.

Had [Ponsoldt] truly trusted his young performers and crafted the script accordingly, Summering could have been something special. Instead he’s made a film as unfocused and forgettable as a rainy late-summer afternoon. These characters deserve better.

Speak No Evil is riveting and upsetting in equal measure. And I never, ever want to see it again.

Director Jake Scott has crafted both a concert documentary and exploration of the Britpop era and what it meant.

The Good House ultimately gets more right than it does wrong, but just barely.

The Girl and the Spider’s lovely concluding shot visualizes this fading relationship, and stands as the filmmakers’ final statement on the fleeting nature of love in all its forms. It is both bitter and sweet. So is this beautiful film.

It is by no means a misfire and features a trio of tremendous performances from Pill, Gadon, and Mare Winningham. But given the source material and the ingredients, Sorrows certainly qualifies as a disappointment.

The Mad Women’s Ball represents a noteworthy achievement for Laurent—a tremendously compelling, emotionally shattering period piece bearing at least three mighty performances from de Laâge, de Dietrich, and herself.

Running for more than three hours, overflowing with film clips, and populated by truly insightful experts, Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror is a cinematic graduate-level course––in the best sense.

Through the performances from Glaser and Brosnan, as well as its unabashed willingness to look extremely silly, False Positive may be worth one’s time. This is Friday-night thriller cinema from the Single White Female or Hand That Rocks the Cradle book, and sometimes that’s just what one is seeking. For anything more than that, look elsewhere. Like, to Rosemary’s Baby. Again.

It takes great maturity and confidence to make a film about the emergence of a young woman’s sexuality that also dares to ask complex, provocative questions while understanding there are no simple answers. Suzanne Lindon is such a filmmaker, and her brisk, entertaining debut Spring Blossom is such a film.

A vivid, compelling documentary.

It is impossible to find a great deal to criticize here. Harvey succeeds at making the audience get to know and care about the Dorset players while also building genuine suspense as the West End debut draws near.

The film is a slick affair––a little too slick. There is little subtlety here, and more would have made for a stronger film, especially when the onscreen interviewees include someone as extraordinary as Evelyne Haendel. Nevertheless, there is no denying the engaging watchability of Misha and the Wolves.

Perhaps months or even years from now, it will be easier to disassociate the film from the real-world details that influenced its creation and give it a second look. In the present, though, In the Earth feels like a project designed to stave up boredom. Perhaps it did, for Wheatley and his crew. For everyone else, the memories of watching will be quickly buried.

What’s most unsettling and provocative about White Riot is how current it feels. Because of this, perhaps White Riot’s greatest achievement is that it takes something that can cause sneers and eye-rolling—committed cultural and political action—and make it feel both necessary and triumphant.

It is utterly so-so, but it is also, undeniably, so-Ozon.

Shiva Baby is a blast of energy and from its first moment to its last Seligman finds the right balance. There is genuine suspense, if not horror; the score, by Ariel Marx, could just as easily fit a summer camp slasher flick. But the greatest feeling for the audience––after discomfort––is excitement.

It is a compelling drama––one based on a true story––and an important one, to be sure. But there are numerous missteps that lessen the impact and slow down the dramatic energy. While this keeps The Best Is Yet to Come from greatness, the film remains a powerful, worthy tale of investigative writing and compassionate reportage.

Interestingly, of all Disney’s recent live-action adaptations, Mulan is probably the one that would have benefited most from the big screen.

A sturdy, small-scale thriller that makes little lasting impact but certainly succeeds in providing some clever jolts.

You Don’t Nomi is another essential chapter in the Showgirls story–and completes the cultural reappreciation the film deserves. How can one not appreciate a film so devoted to “doggy chow,” chips, and ice cubes?

Onward is a spring treat that might not lead to sequels or boffo merchandise sales, but will certainly please families and the Pixar faithful. Debating whether the film is “classic Pixar” is silly. Put those concerns aside and you’ll be rewarded with the first great family film of 2020.

Saint Frances is a character-driven effort that tackles big themes in a wonderfully down-to-earth manner. That’s a tricky balancing act, but Thompson and O’Sullivan pull it off.

Cleverly constructed and bursting with well-planned action sequences–the carnival brawl near the film’s end is positively delightful–Birds of Prey is the rare comic book adaptation directed with a real, tangible vision. And as Quinn, it’s hard to imagine anyone else than Robbie bringing her mix of middle-finger savagery, surprising vulnerability, and utter likability to the role.

Red Penguins is utterly stuffed with memorable stories and unforgettable people. Therefore, the film is unquestionably entertaining for hockey fans. However, it has no more gravitas than, say, any random ESPN Films “30 for 30” entry.

Seberg never quite makes the case for its own existence, nor does it demonstrate to the audience why its protagonist’s political beliefs were so revolutionary.

The film is an emotional knockout that will leave even the most stoic viewer on the verge of weeping, but the shifts of the film’s second half are ultimately uplifting. Waves is a tremendous film, one that finishes with an appropriately transcendent final shot.

Ford v Ferrari is an easy film to scoff at; there is nothing new here, and there is no debating that fact. Instead, we have a compelling story told in simple, intelligent fashion. It deserves a spot on the list of great racing dramas, and the list of the year’s most entertaining dramas.

This is a standard unsolved mystery drama, the type that would be quite at home on a small-screen police procedural. The setting certainly adds to its interest, but even when the boy’s fate is (seemingly) explained, it is difficult to care.

As It Was is a tremendously entertaining, surprisingly moving film.

It is impossible to walk away from Just Mercy unmoved. ... Yet Destin Daniel Cretton’s third feature also feels a bit predictable, a bit obvious, and never quite as compelling as one might expect.

Driven is a well-told, strongly-acted drama with real heart.

Euphoria is undeniably a missed opportunity at creating a drama of frayed sisterhood that feels fresh and unique. The film is also too restrained and unambitious to make a grand statement on mortality.

In the rare moments when this just becomes a film about a woman who loves country music with every fiber of her being, it separates itself and becomes far more than just another story about a star being born.

The Quiet Man is as mysterious as its subject. It is, of course, an absolute must-watch for the Stones faithful. There is no great insight regarding the other members of the band, though.

It falls flat. There are a variety of reasons — one-note characters, an overly-familiar story arc, a laughable sequence of bee heroism (!). (Alternate title idea: “Secrets and Hives.”) Still, there is the work of Grainger and Paquin.... They make Tell It to the Bees watchable, and are worthy of high praise.

The film itself is not a success, but the performance by Mara is complex and profound. If for no other reason, see it for her.

The Wedding Guest is as technically accomplished as any film Winterbottom has ever made. But it all amounts to very, very little.

Jeremiah is bouncy and pleasing, if overfamiliar and never as insightful as one would hope.

One of the film’s successes is its ability to subvert expectations.

Barry Jenkins has created a film both tender and tough, with a time, a place, and a story to lose oneself in. Sublime in its depiction of an emotional connection and subtle in its layers of systematic oppression, Beale Street is a major work from a filmmaker whose gifts are clearly boundless.

Kidman gives one of her best performances, and Kusama keeps us interested even when we know what’s coming.

This is precision entertainment, a crackling, pulse-pounding heist movie with a sterling cast, a whip-smart script, and undeniable social resonance, calling to mind heavyweight champs like The French Connection and Heat. It never quite matches those cinema milestones, but make no mistake, Widows is a knockout.

We the Animals is most effective when it breaks free from conventional storytelling and relies on image, sound, emotion, and mood.

The reason to see Siberia is, quite simply, the presence of Keanu Reeves.

Terminal is destined to be forgotten. However, if the cast, the look, and the wacky storyline intrigue, it might be worth a viewing. While it’s far from the so-bad-its-good category, the few oddities contained within may delight a few curious audience members.

Basmati Blues is an inoffensive trifle. It does not warrant outrage; it’s not bold enough to risk it. Yet there is some heart, and undoubtedly, some ambition.

The film never loses its spirit of harmony, even during its lengthy railroad chase ending. Throughout, it is a marvel of humor, dazzling visuals, and unique characters.

Roman J. Israel, Esq. might not be the courtroom drama fans have been expecting. Instead, it’s a character study filled with insight and originality.

When Molly’s Game is good, it’s very, very good. There are dazzling moments throughout, and it’s clear that Sorkin is having a blast. Much of the film is downright intoxicating, just like the world Molly Bloom found herself in.

Lady Bird is one of the year’s great joys. Greta Gerwig’s debut as a solo writer-director is so wise, so funny, and so remarkably assured that it seems to have flown in out of nowhere.

There’s no doubt that Gangs of Wasseypur is an exhilarating creation, a not-to-be-missed cinematic event, and a work as sprawling, messy, and open-ended as real life.

Throughout, Jordan’s direction is stylish and smart, while its cast succeeds in making its characters truly involving.

You want to see, hear, and feel slavery? Here is the system, in all its awful components.

Prisoners might be the most shockingly dark studio release since Fight Club, a grim, unsettling, occasionally convoluted, but undeniably gripping thriller.

Philomena has a few modest missteps, and a frustrating moment or two (Philomena is more forgiving than Martin – and the audience – want her to be), but the film is so moving, so brisk, and so sweet that it is hard to be left with anything resembling disappointment.

As fascinating and enjoyable as the end result is, Made of Stone spends too much time trying to justify its existence, and not enough time actually presenting us the band as it exists today.

Noah Baumbach’s While We’re Young is wise, funny, fiercely intelligent and always involving. It’s not just the director’s most complete film — it’s also his best.

Supersonic is about the rise of the band, the period from birth to its two concerts (to 250,000 attendees) at Knebworth. And that’s fine, since Supersonic is a wildly entertaining blast of energy and bombast.

It’s a so-so affair offering momentary pleasures.

For Rooney Mara, it’s a new high, giving a performance that can only be described as extraordinary, and she makes Una a sharp, discomforting stunner.

It is Nicholas Hoult, and Nicholas Hoult only, who keeps one watching. Even here he commands the screen, and shows himself able to carry a film. Next time, perhaps it will be a good one, and not one with such a needlessly tired message.

Constantine captures the invigorating joy of these songs, and humorously shows that it is nearly impossible to listen and not feel the urge to dance.

The concept of the film could have been played several different ways, from farce to high-drama to Hitchcock-ian thriller. Ozon decides to try it all, but in the end doesn’t pull off any.

As the moving, sad, riotously humorous documentary The Dog explains, the film only captured traces of Wojtowicz’s personality, and only told bits of his story.

Mark Strong and an underused Brian Cox are fine, and Taissa Farmiga demonstrates why she is acknowledged as one of America’s most promising young talents. But she deserves a better role, everyone involved deserves a stronger script.

While the politics and film as a whole are not entirely successful, there is much to admire in “Wolf Creek 2,” not the least if which is director Greg McLean’s chutzpah. He is a visually adept filmmaker who makes fine use of the broad canvas that is the outback.

Taking on such a wacky project for his directorial debut shows evidence of real ambition, yet Don Peyote must be considered a complete miss. Still, Fogler is certainly not without charm and comedic ability.

The Bag Man is, in final analysis, truly disheartening.

What is perhaps most surprising is that the film’s first hour, the non-horror section, is far more compelling than the second, an extended, nonsensical haunted hotel sequence that never scares, intrigues, or surprises.

If we spent a little less time on Mary and Percy, and a bit more watching Mary actually create, the result may have been different. Sadly, Mary Shelley is just not alive.