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.

Crowe is searching for something as a filmmaker. His first two features may not work as constructed, but it’s clear the themes and emotions within are important to him. There is ambition at the edges, here’s hoping the third time is the charm.

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.

The subject matter is immediate and engaging. But the structure of this film is languid to the point of aggravation.

Kranz succeeds in finding understanding in the unthinkable.

A brutally cynical, largely unfunny film fueled by muddled social commentary.

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.

The film, directed by Denis Villeneuve, delves into the moral fiber and traumatic tree rings of war more than most films have or most likely ever will, but without one clear vantage point or emotional anchor.

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.

There is an unbridled honesty to André Is an Idiot that is admirable, even if all of it doesn’t really work.

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.

Despite its brief runtime, the film runs out of steam well before its climax.

While Memory does not fully succeed in its goals, it’s yet another reminder of Neeson’s sheer presence––a movie star if ever there were one. Watching him act against Pearce is also a brief delight.

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.

Every eye-popping sequence and strongly-performed scene feels too far from the next. Perhaps with a little less, there would be quite a bit more. There’s so much to respect in We Are Little Zombies, just not enough to hold on to.

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.

While The Kindergarten Teacher ends at the perfect moment following an extremely strong final ten minutes, it’s ultimately a muddled experience. But then maybe that’s part of the point.

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.

Ultimately, the mid-point twist begins a bridge too far for this viewer. So much of what is grounding and emotional in the first half falls away as the larger context grows more and more extreme. It all leads to a quite-exhausting third act.

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.

Moors is a filmmaker with immense talent, as demonstrated in his Sundance film Blue Caprice from a few years back, but the beats don’t quite align this time around.

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.

Moss and McBaine do well to examine their subject from every angle. And yet, it’s not nearly enough.

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.

Like so many too-late sequels, the film — directed by the first film’s action choreographer Yuen Woo-ping — rides on waves of nostalgia and little else.

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.

Strouse wants to explore the complexities of somebody who’s chasing their dreams, mostly blind to the wreckage they might make around them, and Williams finds the layers in the character. But the message remains far more muddled than her performance.

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.

The difficulty here, as with many a modern war film, is tone. There is an impetus to honor these soldiers while also criticizing the framework that led them into what is essentially a deathtrap in the middle of Afghanistan. Screenwriters Eric Johnson and Paul Tamasy do their damndest to thread the needle, but the results do wear a bit thin.

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

The pace picks up quite a bit in the film’s third act, working hard to wrap everything up. It’s extremely rushed and convenient, but by then Blinded By The Light will have either won or lost its viewers.

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.

When Thompson and Kaling are playing off each other, Late Night sings. That so much of it is focused elsewhere feels like a miscalculation.

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.

Despite some devoted performances and interesting formal choices, its endgame is rather rote. That the film is quieter and more deliberate in getting there doesn’t make it any less cliche.

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.

Operation Avalanche is a solid piece of entertainment and a formal step up from their first feature. Where it lacks is in authenticity, too often feeling like an in-joke with no punchline.