Christy Lemire

It’s time for your annual Liam Neesoning: that cinematic tradition in which the seasoned star plays a grizzled character with a particular set of skills, which come in handy to dispatch bad guys and rescue good ones. But this year’s entry in the subgenre, The Marksman, is particularly mediocre.

The ultimate themes of forgiveness, reconciliation, and redemption shine through, and the joyous sight of Ye skipping through the corridors of the market is impossible to resist.

All of which makes I, Tonya such a wonder. Not only will it make you think about Tonya Harding again, it will make you do so with unexpected sympathy.

Directing and starring as the legendary composer and conductor Leonard Bernstein, Cooper has crafted a film that’s technically dazzling but emotionally frustrating.

This is such a worthwhile story that we can’t look away, and Nélisse is so engaging that we don’t want to.

The Edge of Seventeen is a strong successor to Hughes’ legacy with its mix of biting humor and bittersweet heart.

Maggie’s Plan almost isn’t screwball enough. The characters must undergo some introspection, as well, and striking a balance between those two dynamics proves challenging.

Lady Macbeth has the refined, pleasing trappings of a tasteful period piece with the vicious, beating heart of a brutal psychological thriller. You can’t stop watching its beauty, even as you long to look away from its cruelty.

Greene’s film is deceptively profound in that it’s about a specific woman with a specific kind of life, yet it has universal resonance as a reflection of the struggle so many women endure—the desire to be all things to all people and inevitably failing someone, the yearning to balance career and parenthood and never finding enough time to do either completely right.

With Girls of the Sun, she handles the action sequences with a deft hand and a feel for tension, but her character development is woefully lacking to the point of empty cliché.

Tackles the tricky topic of gender dysphoria with sensitivity and grace.

A movie that’s as empty and unlikable as the characters themselves.

A mother-daughter bond shines through stark black-and-white cinematography and surreal humor in El Planeta.

In Richard Gere’s deft, veteran hands, Norman Oppenheimer is consistently, completely fascinating. You may not be able to root for him, but you can’t help but feel for him.

Ghost Trail is an intimate study of trauma that plays with the gripping suspense of a globetrotting spy thriller.

This is a persuasive piece of advocacy filmmaking, tucked inside a playful and profane comedy about female friendship. You’ll laugh. You’ll cry.

Garrel judges none of these people for their bad choices, but rather acknowledges that these things happen all time. It’s a sentiment as timeless as the look of the picture, a French New Wave throwback shot on 35mm film which could take place decades ago or in the current day. C’est la vie.

Breillat’s approach is technically intimate yet tonally detached -- languid as a summer’s day, sometimes unbearably so, and often uncomfortably warm.

It features Cody’s hyper-verbal brand of snark, cynicism and subtle poignancy, but it’s tinged with the wistful perspective that comes from hard-earned maturity and experience.

In recalling his youthful days in an insular neighborhood in the titular city, Branagh has made a film that’s both intimate and ambitious—his Roma, if you’ll forgive the inevitable comparison to Alfonso Cuarón’s recent masterpiece.

Blake Lively gives it her all in The Rhythm Section, but the movie only meets her halfway.

Finley has created a film that feels original and alive.

As Aaron’s star patient and best friend, LeBron James is kind of wonderful playing a version of himself who’s sensitive, analytical and strangely stingy. It’s an inspired casting choice.

Little girls will absolutely love it, though. That much is undeniable.

As we enter this season of big, important awards contenders that “matter,” The Skeleton Twins is a small, intimate gem that might truly matter.

Simultaneously lush and lurid, sumptuous and startling, A Bigger Splash never goes where you expect, even as its undercurrent of danger is unmistakable from the start.

As a realistic portrayal of an all-consuming drive, it sticks the landing.

What Megan Park has done with “My Old Ass” is so authentic and thoroughly winning that she breathes new life into a familiar genre.