Dan Mecca

As the survivors of these schools grow older and pass on, this film should remind future generations on whose hands the blood rests. More must be done, but it’s a start.

Bittersweet, touching and always funny, The Farewell is lived-in from top to toe.

Too often do we take for granted the miraculousness of the moving image. Stigter’s creative extension and exploration of Kurtz’s film reminds us. What can we glean from three minutes of film shot in 1938? Plenty.

Train Dreams is a quiet, resilient work that will most likely age gracefully.

It’s worth a warning for those that watch––some images in 2000 Meters to Andriivka you will not soon forget.

Mostly funny and sometimes heart-wrenching, Showwalter, Nanjiani, and Gordon collaborate comfortably, finding laughs in the more dire moments.

There is life and death in every single frame of City of Ghosts, not to be easily forgotten.

That Culkin has both the charm and bite to carry it is superb, and there’s a bravery to the open-endedness Eisenberg permits. It’s clearly a personal endeavor and clear point of growth as a filmmaker.

Despite the creativity on display, the character choices and fatal decisions feel cliched.

The cancer-diagnosis plot device is certainly well-worn and can often be viciously maudlin, but Haley does well in utilizing it as a means to work on something a bit more nuanced.

Choe shows a deft hand in her brevity and economy of action. So little happens yet it matters so much.

Tonally, Moving On plays a bit unorganized. While the results are mixed, these performers make the journey worthwhile.

The film serves as a lovely reminder of why art is important, how watching something can make you feel, make you understand, make you consider.

American Doctor is hard to watch and it should be. It’s hard to live in a world like this, where things like this happen. Where we let things like this continue to happen.

This documentary lays the facts at our feet and gives us a glimpse of the brave people trying to keep books in libraries and keep young minds open.

Even seven years after his passing, that formidable presence and iconic voice envelop every frame.

Predators is a clear-eyed analysis of the cultural phenomenon, an earnest attempt at understanding why we enjoy watching these kinds of people get caught (apart from the obvious), and a reckoning with the morality of the whole enterprise.

The prison drama is a well-worn sub-genre, ripe with predictive beats and expected narrative turns. Those behind this picture are determined to subvert those expectations, and the attempt–though not fully realized–is much appreciated.

It feels like there could be a second film just as compelling thanks to Lady Bird’s essential observations.

The majority of the film is driven by Riefenstahl’s own voice from various recordings. She often comes across as charming and intelligent. That is, of course, what makes her decades of denials and lies all the more disturbing.

This film is often slight but always welcoming. The two leads have a pleasant chemistry that elevates each exchange and build out a meaningful–and meaningfully deep–relationship that’s easy to engage with and root fo

Folktales captures a crucial moment in the lives of these young adults amidst a very particular setting with stark, unblinking honesty.

Kranz succeeds in finding understanding in the unthinkable.

This is a short, punchy bit of work. It’s hard to parse the fiction from the non-fiction, which is certainly the point. The people surviving through this war are keeping the cultural candle lit for future generations of Ukrainians. Both legend and fact must live on. Amidst the forlorn images and scorched earth, there is some sort of hope.

Formally, Living is unimpeachable. . . . That said, Living begins and ends with Nighy.

Aesthetically and dramatically, Tantura is a fairly straightforward piece of work, and this is appreciated. We are being presented with the facts as the filmmakers see them. Schwarz and his collaborators acknowledge Katz and the complications of his word, while also letting us hear the admissions from the soldiers themselves.

Somewhere in the middle of After The Wedding it becomes clear as day: Michelle Williams is one of a kind. Not that we didn’t know this already. Still, it’s nice to be reminded.

Schwarz is determined to give us the full view of this issue, and it’s much appreciated.

Cutting Through Rocks, like its subject, is resilient. The film is ultimately the sum of small, powerful moments.

A Still Small Voice captures good people doing their best to navigate constant crisis. The struggle will linger with you for some time.

In the world La Llorona creates, your sins will not only haunt until you make amends–it will haunt those who’ve protected you from those repercussions. Underscored with a foreboding sense of disquiet akin to last year’s Atlantics, the viewing experience is as satisfying as it is provocative.

Garner is effective, the camera rarely losing focus of her. This is an actress whose animated features tell an engaging story without needing much help.

Sunfish (& Other Stories on Green Lake) captures a bittersweet feeling. That feeling of endings and beginnings, happening at the same time.

Credit to all involved: here’s a story about real humans and real subjects with real emotional stakes.

The most interesting thing about Gabe Polsky’s new documentary The Man Who Saves the World? is that it is unsure of its intentions.

Do not let the brief runtime or spartan setting dissuade you. This is nuanced drama, well-felt and well-told.

For the most part, The Covenant is about the bond between brothers and sisters in arms, and the need to rely on each other when systems fail their pledges. Third-act qualms aside, Gyllenhaal and Ritchie emerge as a well-meshed Hollywood duo here. One hopes this is the first of a few collaborations.

Sundwall is quite impressive in the lead, with much depending on her in solitary sequences. Not every supporting performer can hold their own next to her, but she’s a gracious screen partner. There is much empathy in every frame here. Dizzia and Cho do superb work, anchoring the emotion and responsibility of the entire picture.

Ultimately, it’s the archived, audio recordings of Ailey that give the documentary its soul.

There’s a lot to chew on here, and if Burden is ultimately buried by its muddled central character, it’s as much a testament to the filmmaker’s refusal to sugarcoat this story as it is a criticism of the final product.

Miller’s New York, full of academics who still have the capacity to act like children, isn’t exactly new, but plenty fascinating.

An essential watch for cinephiles and beyond, let Be Natural: The Untold Story of Alice Guy-Blaché be the first step in your discovery of a talented artist that had as much to do with the innovation of cinema as those already firmly established in the canon of the craft.

Indeed, the most engaging sections feature Liza, who may be a bit frail but retains her verve.

Despite its straightforward, perhaps manipulative heart-tugging nature, this film is impossible not to like because of the goodwill of its subject and foundation he created.

Throughout Wonder Woman there is an earnestness in tone that plays well, and rarely as saccharine.

This film is often funny and sometimes introspective about this land of screens we find ourselves trapped inside. A bit long in the tooth at times, it is undeniably engaging and reliably weird.

Harper does good work here, building on a sturdy portrait of these heroes over a 100-minute runtime.

Together, writer/director Joseph Cedar and lead actor Richard Gere craft a singularly memorable character in Norman Oppenheimer.

This is an interesting, frustrating man to focus on, all the way up to his muddled end. That Hawke’s film will introduce a new audience to his music and soulful tenure feels like its own victory.

The film loses form a bit as it lumbers towards its final moments, but the juice is worth the squeeze. All involved here are determined to find the laughter in the pain of dealing with other people. And if there must be blood, so be it.

One sincerely hopes that this is the first of many collaborations between Viswanathan and Baig. Rarely do those behind the camera feel as sync with those in front of the camera as what is conveyed in Hala.

Goodman moves mostly chronologically and procedurally through it all, using the white nationalist movement as the anchor. It all feels unbelievably relevant in the year 2017. The hate and fear lives on, and continues to burn bright.

Harper’s source material is a hard-boiled tour de force, and while Rowland’s adaptation adjusts and simplifies the novel on which it’s based, it successfully bottles the energy and unleashes it onscreen.

That Porcelain War emerges as a taut, effective war documentary that also features compelling animated sequences within the beautiful artwork of its lead subjects makes it a stand-out piece of filmmaking. Its existence proves its own point: even in war, there must be life. Art sustains us and helps us survive.

Any pain is endured and ultimately enjoyed (save the insane gags Knoxville pulls), allowing audiences a guilt-free good time at the movies. It may not be smart, but the feeling of joy sure as hell ain’t stupid.

The Line is hard to watch, and the banality of this kind of evil is incredibly off-putting. Horrible things happen while people are laughing. Even while The Line extends its welcome, it’s an undeniably unnerving experience.

Beecroft has captured that bittersweet, specific feeling of place––she effectively conveys that it’s not about the where, but the who. Tabatha Zimiga is an extraordinary person, and East of Wall is smart to position her as such.

Things are revealed, loose ends are tied, and Kormákur keeps it all moving at brisk pace given the evolving intrigue. The word “lovely” feels old-fashioned, but it’s appropriate here. This is a lovely film.

McGehee and Siegel are at the top of their game, building to an emotional and memorable climax. Nothing is too shocking, but nothing happens exactly as expected either. One could look at the premise of this film and convince themselves they’ve seen it before. They’d be wrong.

Baumbach is making his Fellini film, and it’s a joy to watch. There are funny, recurring jokes involving cheesecake and a lonely man never being alone. There are heartfelt, regretful scenes that nearly always involve Sandler, this film’s co-MVP with Crudup. And Clooney is doing both sides of what he does best.

Hello, Bookstore is ultimately a profile of a man as much as it is a document of a place; Zax knows that the man is the place. And vice versa. What a thrill to root for an everyday hero.

Amy Berg’s It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley is an impressive archival document as well as a celebration of the life of a tortured artist.

Starring an against-type and utterly fascinating Michelle Pfeiffer as the titular Kyra, the film narrows in on the tragedy of getting old in America.

Shithouse, written and directed by the 22-year-old Cooper Raiff, tells a familiar story with a specificity that cannot be ignored.

Brittany Runs a Marathon mostly succeeds, and it’s all thanks to Bell. That Colaizzo is trying to do something more is icing on the cake.

Promising Young Woman is always entertaining and it will linger for a long, long time.

Though there may be too much here, plenty of it’s compelling and important. The Outrun is undoubtedly a hard sit, but Ronan serves as a superb vessel through choppy waters.

This film is blunt and direct to degrees that may disengage some viewers.

Fast and furious in its information and interviews, this documentary is engaging from minute one, rarely letting the viewer off the hook.

The pace is never stagnant and the final moments are pointedly effective. Ultimately, The Real Charlie Chaplin is an imperfect film about an imperfect filmmaker.

As the style begins to wear out its welcome, the promise of a resolution and nifty twist keep things nimble. Like a well-crafted paperback, Search never commits the cardinal sin of being boring.

Its pandemic setting proves effective, the class commentary engaging, and performances top-notch.

Ms. Purple is lived-in drama, expanding off familiar beats with fresh POVs, an authentic setting, and a DIY style that never feels cheap

Where’s My Roy Cohn? is a worthy documentary, though it’s hard not to want more.

Despite a few key emotional moments, there’s not enough in the performance to fully engage from beginning to end.

Who You Think I Am works as both an actor’s showcase and a thriller with some meat on its bones.

Frankly, this is content that makes one feel a bit better about the future. All the poems may not connect, all of the performances may not stick, and the ending may play a bit more maudlin than intended, but the energy on display and the goodness therein should be enough to melt the coldest of hearts.

Both Fiennes siblings are smart to never get in the way of Eliot’s words. By simply putting them in front of us and adding some air underneath, the film becomes a piece all its own, made for now.

There’s more than a few moments where saccharine is the easy option. And while some will say the film is perhaps too understated, it meets its star at the right level. A little goes a long way here.

Chon has a vision and a voice and a good story to tell, full of social relevance and fiery emotion. Something this energetic and cared for is hard to criticize all that much. It’s a film worth seeking out and telling others about.

Perhaps the saddest, most effective thing about Orwell: 2+2=5 is that it all seems so obvious. The evidence, the crimes, the lies––all of it. So many of these despots lack any nuance or fortitude. Raoul Peck remains a steadfast beacon of truth. In this time when fiction is fact, we need as many of him as we can get.

Huda’s Salon recalls Hollywood mysteries from the 1940s in both its brisk pace and disarmingly simple style, resulting in a sparse, intelligent thriller.

Nothing is more subjective than comedy and this brand will surely turn many off. No matter. Those behind Greener Grass are clearly unfazed by the weirdness. They wallow in it, unabashedly. If only they kept it up for the whole one-hundred minutes.

Mutt isn’t perfect, but it is well-lived. The real-life experiences of the filmmakers bleed through the frames. One wishes for a fuller narrative (the third act peters out a bit) and a peppier pace while also acknowledging the many young people who will discover this coming-of-age narrative and relate to it in a deeply important way.

Minyan is at its best when it is observing its characters. Often the narrative turns feel a bit abrupt, even forced. The slower bits work the best.

Samberg and company are keen observers of pop culture and every facet of its insanity, doing their very best to out-size that which already feels larger than logic. They don’t always succeed, but when they do, it’s more than worth it.

All in all, it’s bracingly effective and not altogether dire.

Joy Ride is the perfect example of “less is more.” One imagines there could be a three-hour cut of these adventures, but who needs that? This feels like the best bits from the bunch, and Goldthwait is economical in his pacing.

In many respects, The Boy Who Harnessed The Wind feels like a showcase of immense talent, both in front of and behind the camera. If stories like this can continue to be told with the confidence of fresh filmmaking voices like Chiwetel Ejiofor, we will all be better for it.

If not necessarily the Craig era’s resounding victory lap some might wish, it’s still an exceptional time in a cinema, begging for the largest screen possible. More importantly, a bold, exciting gesture of good faith in 007’s path forward.

Merchant Ivory ultimately feels like a a devoted document of a group of artists who lived complicated, interesting lives. And while this film may not fully capture that complexity, there are forty films they made that get to the heart of the matter.

There is a quality to these performances and an earnestness to the filmmaking that’s more than enough to recommend.

The messy creativity on display is something to admire.

Johnston and company are aware that introducing a hero means more than showing off his suit and gadgets or building up the universe he will eventually encapsulate. Before any of that, we must care about who he/she is.

Paula Niedert Elliott is given the most to do, and she does plenty with it.

There is a clarity to every performance from start to finish, from Roberts all the way down. Yes, the thriller elements that are introduced never fully connect with the tone of the overall experience, but it’s a minuscule criticism.

On-the-nose dialogue and a less-than-effective opening in media res hamper the film a bit. Peren’s script gets in the way of her direction from time to time. The Forger‘s biggest success is its rendering of domestic life amongst wartime.

Simultaneously, Cyrano feels like something new and something old. The best of both worlds.