David Lewis

This is a movie that you will admire both for its courage and its creativity.

This beautifully shot film (kudos to cinematographer Paul Yee) could have easily been an incoherent mess, but Holmer keeps her lyrical movie under control at all times.

The quietly stirring, exquisitely photographed Columbus is an art-house gem that beautifully illuminates not only the architecture of a small Indiana town, but also the characters that inhabit it.

Aquarius has a lot of things on its mind, and sometimes the plot machinations in the last third seem a tad heavy-handed, almost as if they’re being piled upon a delicate character sketch.

A mesmerizing documentary.

Hypnotic and intense throughout, the brilliantly executed Hereditary taps into the ghosts within all of us — the insidious roots of family dysfunction — and turn them upside down and all around. It’s an audacious supernatural thriller where the psychological fallout is just as disturbing as the apparitions that come chillingly to life.

This is formidable filmmaking, and Heineman has become one of our most daring, and interesting, documentarians.

This is a clever comedy about working-class women, and a sly, entertaining commentary on the insidious effects of gender inequality.

Ross doesn’t gloss over the challenges facing the rural black county, but he finds a strong spirit there, even as the storm clouds hover.

A stirring romance between an emotionally stifled sheep farmer and an irrepressible Romanian migrant worker, isn’t shy about paying homage to the classic “Brokeback Mountain,” but in many ways, this British film turns out better.

The Departure is an excellent example of a filmmaker finding a perfect wavelength with her main character.

This is a fascinating portrait of an artist.

In the riveting, masterfully executed Harmonium, bad karma pays a visit to a family — and overstays its welcome. It’s a bleak film, no doubt, yet it remains engrossing throughout with its genuinely surprising twists and outstanding acting.

Its slow-boiling brew of dread turns out to be more tepid than terrifying.

The Ground Beneath My Feet consistently serves as a powerful showcase for the talented Pachner, who manages a performance that is both distant and achingly vulnerable.

Ixcanul provides a window into a culture that we rarely see. But it’s not just an anthropological study — it has a powerful story to tell, too.

The impressive film not only underscores the clash between traditional and modern values, but also provides inspiration for deciding your own fate, even when the world seemingly doesn’t give you a choice.

Even if it’s a film that will challenge any viewer, it benefits from a strong premise, a story line that more or less holds up, and three knockout performances. Rarely has the acting process been explored in such a cinematically provocative way.

This is a film that would never work without brilliant casting of the child actors, and it’s a marvel to watch the interplay between the young girls, who don’t deliver a false note.

In the end, the whole enterprise comes off as too clever for its own good, a social satire without a clear target. It’s a movie that you admire more than you like.

Nowar keeps the exposition to a minimum; there is barely a mention of the geopolitical events surrounding Theeb. Instead, this film is a cautionary tale about survival — and keeping one’s enemies in their place.

Unmistakable political overtones populate the documentary Monrovia, Indiana, an examination of day-to-day life in a small, red-state town.

It’s a rousing, feel-good story about overcoming barriers, even when the challenges — poverty, lack of medical access — are inherently bleak.

It’s a lovely film that’s poetic, erotic and bittersweet.

The exquisitely shot Demon is not gory or particularly scary, but it has its fair share of chills.

A highly effective, psychological horror thriller.

Raw, provocative, sometimes humorous and always humane, Kokomo City is an engrossing documentary about four Black trans sex workers who constantly disarm with their outrageous anecdotes and their palpable fears of living in a world that’s often hostile to them.

An engaging, revelatory slice of life.

A character study hiding in cowboys’ clothing — and even if its pacing could use a little more giddy-up, it delivers an inspired ending that makes the brothers’ longish journey worthwhile.

The bold, masterful Beach Rats, one of the most exquisitely haunting LGBT coming-of-age stories ever told, takes place in the unhip fringes of Brooklyn, a land that time has forgotten. But nothing about this film is forgettable.

Human Flow is often like seeing a travelogue of the world, juxtaposed with a desperate sea of humanity in search of a better — and safer — life.

With a zippy soundtrack and breezy editing style, Every Body comes off as an up-to-date declaration that being intersex is something to be celebrated. In the end, we can’t help but share in the enthusiasm.

Disenchanted, a delightful follow-up to the beloved fairy tale Enchanted, delivers everything you could ask for in a sequel. It not only continues the original film’s magical mix of music, animation, live action and humor, but also takes the story in a new and interesting direction.

In the end, Chi-Raq is a positive movie that wants to jolt us into doing something about the very real emergency in Chicago. Along the way, the execution of the narrative gets muddled, but there’s no denying that this risk-taking film has a pulse. A strong pulse.

Equally fascinating, sad and scary.

Without an ounce of the polemic, [Ewing] offers a vivid perspective of the United States’ immigration issues through a romantic lens. It’s not a new perspective, by any means, but the way she brings it has a poignant beauty all its own.

Cassandro takes place in an inherently goofy arena — this is over-the-top, stagey fighting, after all — but the filmmakers avoided the temptations of cheap laughs and produced a satisfying dramatic story that will appeal to both fans and non-fans of this outlandish wrestling genre. That’s a rope move worth cheering for.

By the end, we’ve experienced one of the best films about street hustling ever made.

The aerial cinematography is breathtaking: We can feel the fragility of the planet, but also its power to heal — if only we give it a chance.

It’s a moving meditation about our unwavering need for creativity, and finding ways to express it.

It’s impossible to resist a film that has such rich characters, and makes a complicated subject both enlightening and entertaining.

Breezily bounces back and forth from Baja to Los Angeles, and it’s a pleasant diversion, on both sides of the border.

Even if it has B-movie trappings and the tension wanes in the second half, it’s a stylish psychodrama.

Torok juggles plenty of characters and themes — guilt, greed, Russian meddling, the Holocaust, justice — but he always remains firmly in control of his story. Every frame is meticulously crafted.

Robin’s Wish, of course, can’t lessen the tragedy of Williams’ death, but it helps us better reconcile the suicide of such a joyous, irrepressible soul.

An exquisite tale about coming of age and coming to terms.

Shepard always keeps things on track, and his well-paced, beautifully scored film makes us see San Francisco in an atypical light as welcoming and beautiful, yes, but also bewildering, lonely and intimidating. Indeed, though all the refugees make varying degrees of progress, we can’t help but feel that a rocky road still lies ahead for them.

Writer-director Harry Macqueen puts the fate of his film on the shoulders of his two leads — Colin Firth as Sam, Stanley Tucci as Tusker — and both actors deliver some of the best work of their careers.

Submission is not a bad film — it just feels like an early draft.

In 90 brisk minutes, we get a three-dimensional portrait of a private, gender-nonconforming trailblazer who not only paved the way for Black Americans, but also for women and LGBTQ people.

San Francisco was the first major U.S. city to forbid the police and other agencies from using facial recognition technology — and the persuasive documentary Coded Bias makes it easy to understand why.

Risk is far from a narrative masterpiece — it hopscotches all over the place, with even Lady Gaga making an appearance — and it peels only a layer or two from a man with many masks.

Jolie has crafted an intimate epic about a tough war subject that probably would have gone unmade without her humanitarian influence and star power. First They Killed My Father is a much more assured film, even if a bogged-down middle section prevents it from greatness.

The final frames, which hark back to an iconic TV show, are audacious, yet like everything else in this movie, they are skillfully unadorned.

Even to those familiar with the bizarre affair, “JT Leroy” offers some new insights, not only because of the presence of Albert and her home movies, but also because of a treasure trove of phone recordings between JT and numerous luminaries.

The highly enjoyable documentary Obit finally gives credit to the storytellers who bring people to life one last time.

The engaging HBO documentary Rock Hudson: All That Heaven Allowed, both a guilty pleasure and meaningful slice of queer history, delivers a loving yet irony-laced tribute to a closeted movie icon whose tragic death from AIDS changed the course of the epidemic and cemented his place in LGBTQ lore.

It’s a potent and timely slice of Americana.

A powerful cinematic essay.

There’s no denying that this imaginative puzzler has moments you won’t soon forget.

Theater Camp, a mockumentary about a summer workshop for thespian adolescents, offers plenty of theater and plenty of camp, to the point that it often plays like one, big inside joke. But the film offsets its drama class insularity with a rousing message that the stage will always be a magical place for children to dream — and to discover themselves.

This film is always pleasant to watch. It shows us that life has little detours, all the way to the end.

It has plenty of emotionally satisfying scenes and its share of humorous moments, but the drama and comedy mix like oil and water.

Beckwith, though, rallies with some memorable moments in the third trimester and nails the climactic scene with gut-wrenching efficiency. Her movie stays afloat because of Harrison (watch out for her in the future) and Helms, who both deliver a fitting finale that’s revelatory and emotionally satisfying.

Director Sameh Zoabi relies on the old adage that we have more in common than not, but it’s a lesson that bears repeating — particularly when laughs come with it.

Fortunately, some of the people around Cameron turn out to be more interesting. The best in show is John Gallagher Jr., who brings out both the creepy and comforting sides of “ex-gay” instructor Rick — a seemingly nice guy who’s oblivious to the harm that he’s inflicting on his charges.

Turns it into a 90-minute infomercial, with nary a revelation in sight.

Monsoon, an offbeat story about a man’s cultural dislocation in Vietnam, is more of a slow drip than a torrential downpour. It’s a lovely film that suddenly and magically can wash over you, then lose you in its opacities.

Nothing about Of an Age seems forced. The film delicately embraces grand sentiments without ever being sentimental. And throughout the journey, we can’t help but be enthralled.

It’s the rare film that can match the vapidity and venom of "Bodies Bodies Bodies," a combination that’s both toxic and entertaining. There are many influences — “Mean Girls,” “Gossip Girl,” “Scream,” to name a few — but "Bodies Bodies Bodies" takes all of these influences and creates an original spin for the social media age.

Cooke may overstuff his documentary with too many points, but if a young person had to watch just one film about the drug war, this is not a bad choice.

Even if the proceedings sometime feel like a travelogue, the reconstructions of Gabriel’s last days alive, down to the exact locations and personal interactions, leave a strong impression.

Dying to Know: Ram Dass and Timothy Leary is a love story, but not in a physical sense; instead, the love here thrives in the spiritual realm, an intimacy that makes this biographical documentary quite appealing.

This is one of those sneakily good movies where at first nothing much seems to be going on, before the parts start adding up to a satisfying whole. Mutt turns out to be a well-crafted character study of not only a trans man, but also of the most important people in his orbit.

Obviously a passion project, but Ejiofor keeps his film grounded in reality and avoids histrionics. And even though the plot is predictable from the get-go, the cast in uniformly good, and it’s hard not to be moved when William’s water-pumping invention carries the day. His story is one that’s worth telling.

Savagely lyrical, Vazante offers a harsh, impressionistic take on slavery in 19th century Brazil. And though the storytelling leans toward the opaque, the film has a sense of authenticity and power that keep it interesting.

Beyond the superb acting, Concrete Cowboy gets a lot of mileage from its visually arresting riding scenes and its spot-on score, which is both haunting and inspirational.

Quintana brings a stunning visual flair to his film, and Sheen has a fine moment when he ponders the thin line between miracles and tragedies. But we keep waiting for the film to wash over us, and it never quite does.

By the time the credits roll, we don’t achieve a much deeper sense of who John DeLorean really was — only a better understanding of why this complicated figure continues to befuddle screenwriters. DeLorean probably would have preferred it that way.

An absorbing, multilayered story about the search for a French girl who goes missing with her Muslim boyfriend, starts in a very un-French way: with cowboys, horses, a Marlboro Man-like billboard and country-and-western music.

This project is in many ways a nod to the films of the French New Wave, and even if the surprisingly unsexy A Faithful Man doesn’t quite measure up, it’s never boring and keeps moving at a brisk pace.

This is an ambitious movie that didn’t come quite together in the editing room.

This is a movie that has lots of magic, in more ways than one.

Take Every Wave remains entertaining because of Hamilton’s awe-inducing skill on the ocean, and his determination to ride the waves as long as his body will allow.

At the end of the day, Wiener-Dog seems to be saying that life is mundane, then you die. It’s not the stuff of Hallmark cards, but Solondz has a way of making it palatable.

The script stays on safe, formulaic ground, but it’s effective — and somehow breathes new life into a franchise that had become a junk heap.

It’s obvious that this is a well-intentioned, sensitive labor of love, and Hooper’s strategy of keeping it safe is bound to bring in folks who might otherwise avoid such material. For the rest of us, we must settle for a film that is solid but never quite soars.

The uneven, misanthropic French comedy Slack Bay, one of the weirdest period pieces in quite some time, is an odd combination of “The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie,” Monty Python, and “Laurel and Hardy,” with some cannibalism, incest and gender identity issues thrown in.

This is one of those rare films nowadays that might have been helped with a few extra minutes. Yet at the same time, that’s a clear sign that Hill has created a world and a set of characters that have kept us engaged throughout.

On the surface, Sweeney’s film is a playful examination of sexual fluidity, but underneath the gags, it’s really a universal, sweet movie about the modern complexities of finding a soulmate. It’s also a nice example of how independent films can breathe fresh air into genres like the romantic comedy.

What makes the film emotionally satisfying, beyond the stirring music, is that we witness the healing and enlightenment of chorus members, some of them bearing scars from their oppressive red-state upbringings.

The Idol, a feel-good film about a Palestinian boy’s improbable ascent to pop stardom, takes place mostly in Gaza, a place not associated with feeling good. But out of the war rubble emerges one of the most irresistible movies of the year.

A formidable exercise in storytelling. Even at the end, when the inevitable goodbye toast occurs, there is a twist awaiting us.

A bit icky yet full of charm, the engaging documentary Rodents of Unusual Size introduces us to the nutria, a furry antihero that’s a cross between a huge rat and a beaver — and that has been damaging Louisiana’s delicate wetlands for decades. The film serves as both an environmental cautionary tale for other states (including California) and an interesting slice of Cajun life.

Director Byung-gil Jung, a trained stuntman, is an expert in staging action set-pieces, and for fans of dazzlingly violent shootouts on motorcycles and buses, this brutal revenge tale should be right up your alley, even if the proceedings often get sidetracked with a confusing back story.

Apocalypse also doesn’t excel in the teen angst department, because the characters are not fleshed out enough. The love triangle is not convincing, and except for Anna and her father, we don’t care a whole lot about what happens to the characters, perhaps because we didn’t get enough time to know them in the beginning.

A thinking person’s action movie - as long as you don’t think too much. Even if it has its share of preposterous moments, it crackles with nonstop tension, combat scenes and double-crosses.

It’s hard to deny that Shyamalan remains one of our most prolific, longstanding filmmakers, and that his work continues to make an impression on our culture. His tense, never dull “Knock at the Cabin” makes us uncomfortable at times, and few punches are pulled. Perhaps he’s found a formula that will take him to new, interesting places.