E. Oliver Whitney

I’ve never enjoyed any of Roth’s grisly R-rated movies, but at least those had a distinct vision and style. If only his kid-friendly haunted house movie was as original, it could’ve been a surprising treat.

If Redford really is done for good, this is a perfect way for him to say goodbye.

If Beale Street Could Talk is a movie about racism and the incarceration of black Americans – realities as significant and relevant today as they were when Baldwin’s novel came out – but most importantly, the deep, shining love that pulses through Tish and Fonny’s story never fades.

Though Widows isn’t as exceptional as McQueen’s previous work, his style elevates it well beyond any generic big studio genre film. It’s a first-rate popcorn thriller that dazzles you and gives you something thoughtful and timely to chew on.

More than a third of its runtime is frustratingly lifeless, mimicking the repressed, impassive psyche of Ryan Gosling’s astronaut, and when Chazelle finally takes us to that big rock in the sky, the sequences may be gorgeous to look at, but the film fails to capture how awe-inspiring something as epic as a trip to the moon must have been.

Green serves up everything we love about the first Halloween, completely playing off our nostalgia for the slasher classic, and to me, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

While A Star Is Born isn’t a perfect movie, faltering in its second act and rushing far too quickly into Ally’s rise to fame, it’s an undeniably mesmerizing one.

Though Searching is a fun ride, I left disappointed over how little the film uses its digital schtick to unpack the psychology behind our modern screen addiction.

Henson has given us the worst movie of the summer — and quite possibly the worst of the year thus far.

Kate McKinnon deserves better. Until then, she’ll continue to be Hollywood’s most reliable comedy savior, a one-woman circus act on a tightrope, juggling and balancing on one foot, all while holding up lousy studio comedies with her bare hands.

There may be plenty of charming, classic Pooh-isms sprinkled throughout Christopher Robin, but the film just can’t manage to bring the same level of poignance and wisdom to its own story.

The new sequel/prequel, Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again – which has perhaps the best sequel subtitle of all time – is only half as fun as the first movie, replacing familiar faces with lesser known ones in a story we already know. But thanks to the returning cast and a showstopping Cher performance, there’s enough zany delights to forgive the snoozier bits.

Burnham is uniquely tuned into the minds and behaviors of his young characters and their hyper-active, hormonally-charged world. For a gloriously funny and heartbreaking 94 minutes, you too will feel like you’re 13 again.

It’s a prime example of taking a known property and lazily gender-flipping the cast without putting in the work to pair them with a worthy script or direction. Ocean’s 8 tries to pull its biggest con on us – burying a disappointing movie behind the flashy allure of an A-list cast.

First Reformed is the type of film that leaves you with more profound questions than answers. You’ll probably need to see it two, maybe three times to really soak it up, but even after a single viewing, it left me completely awestruck.

There’s a twist that brings deeper insight and originality to the story, but it’s one Cody and Reitman don’t land as gracefully or sharply as they could have. It ultimately leads to a too-tidy conclusion that left me unsatisfied and a bit bummed out. That said, the first three quarters of Tully are pure magic, a darkly comedic and earnest ode to the woes of motherhood.

The premise of I Feel Pretty would work better within the quick-hit comedy structure of an Inside Amy Schumer sketch. Stretched across a nearly-two hour runtime, the joke gets old fast.

Wadlow manages to ratchet up the tension in the most clever set pieces, the best of which involves a bottle of vodka and a rooftop. It’s also the type of shlocky horror movie you want to watch with a big audience, and, dare I say, one that is especially fun, and funny, with a chatty crowd. This movie is too stupid not to laugh at.

You Were Never Really Here isn’t an entirely satisfying experience, and may benefit from multiple viewings, but it’s still a masterful exploration of the nasty ways repressed trauma can resurface, and how violence can become a means of excising the bruises of the past.

When I think about Haigh’s work, the word tenderness comes to mind. Both Weekend and 45 Years examined the rise and fall of relationships with profound sensitivity. While Lean On Pete isn’t quite as indelible as those two films, it’s another impressive piece of understated storytelling.

At best, The Cloverfield Paradox is a schlock sci-fi movie that (all too appropriately) has the quality of a straight-to-video sequel. And at worst, it should have us worried about the direction of the Cloverfield franchise as a whole.

Don’t get me wrong, the Hugh Jackman-led P.T. Barnum circus musical is a bad movie, but one that’s just enjoyably bad enough to keep you entertained. If you loathe musicals, this definitely ain’t for you. But if you indulge in gaudy show tunes, and can relinquish all desire for a logical plot and developed characters, then, in the melodically whispered words of Hugh Jackman, The Greatest Showman is everything you ever want, it’s everything you ever need, it’s where you want to be.

Every once in a while you stumble upon a near-perfect movie that is so sharp, warm, and genuine you can’t wait to watch it all over again once the credits roll.

Dysfunctional relationships and bickering families are nothing new, but the raw emotion here elevates The Meyerowitz Stories above Baumbach’s previous work. It may slight some of its more compelling character relationships, but it’s still a bittersweet delight.

It isn’t the charged biopic that a story as fascinating as Seal’s deserves, but it has enough rambunctious delights to get by.

It’s a heartbreaking love story about loneliness and the transcendent power of language, and it’s simply magical.

Downsizing is all half-empty, big ideas that accomplish very little.

Love it, hate it, or stuck somewhere in between, it’s something you simply need to see to believe.

The Florida Project immerses us in more stories that too often get excluded from movies. It finds magic in the mundane, and reminds audiences how to look at the world through fresh, untainted eyes.

The film never figures out how to merge Jeannette’s younger and older perspectives into one cohesive voice.

Good Time is a uniquely exhilarating experience with a sharp, unflinching style and a magnetic performance from Robert Pattinson.

Detroit suffers from muddled intentions and a lack of a clear why. It could have maintained a narrower focus on the lives of the black folks affected by the motel incident. Instead, Detroit tries to accomplish too much too cautiously.

There's certainly a thrill to watching a single woman lead a movie where she's chasing down criminals like an unstoppable killing machine. Is Kidnap inane? Totally. But fun? You bet.

Soderbergh did some impressive work during his break from the movies, but Logan Lucky proves his talents need to be showcased on the big screen, melding crime and suspense with comedy.

The latest from the French filmmaker is a dazzling feast of spectacular visuals and exhilarating set pieces. It’s Besson’s most ambitious film to date, and the most original big-budget adventure you’ll see on screen this season. But such ambition doesn’t always come without flaws.

The film deepens the melancholic, existential notes from end of The Trip to Italy, and continues to evolve with its characters emotionally.

There’s certainly a lot to enjoy in The Fate of the Furious, but even the strongest moments are less spectacular this time around.

Conceptually, it’s an ambitious undertaking; but as fascinating and perplexing as it all is, I’m not sure McDowell’s film really achieves its goals.

The biggest problem is that Ghost in the Shell has nothing smart or interesting to say — it just thinks it does.

Power Rangers is fun when it leans into the original series’ campy sensibility.

This derivative sequel might please devoted fans looking for a quick fix of nostalgia, but with nothing new to say, it seems not even Boyle and his cast are sure why T2 Trainspotting exists.

Malick has found a way to translate how a familiar song has the ability to transport you back to a particular time and conjure a specific set of emotions. Whatever he’s been exploring over the past few years pays off here. Song to Song is far from his strongest film, but it’s his best and most exciting work since The Tree of Life.

You can try to enjoy The Great Wall as a delightfully crappy blockbuster, but when you remember this is a Zhang Yimou film, it’s just a disappointment.

It’s Verbinski’s eye that makes A Cure for Wellness such a wild, nightmarish treat.

Ultimately it’s Finley’s sleek and stylish visual language that makes Thoroughbred a must-see, and one of the best surprises out of Sundance. He composes his shots with such precision, control, and confidence.

Even if you’re unfamiliar with the movements in the film, Manifesto is still a brilliant display of Blanchett’s unstoppable talent and Rosefeldt’s ability to use one art form – filmmaking – to explore so many others.

Guadagnino does a remarkable job of capturing the tension and anxiety that comes with not only first love, but first-time queer romances.

There’s a novelistic quality to Mudbound that elevates it from what could have been a traditional and singular story about struggle and oppression into a layered, multi-dimensional one.

Funny, feel good, and touching, The Incredible Jessica James will leave you with a smile on your face.

Although it’s sometimes uneven with somewhat underdeveloped characters, I Don’t Feel at Home is nonetheless a clever blend of two very different genres. Blair’s mix of humor and feverish violence works best in the film’s final act, when things turn completely nutty.

It’s a tender, introspective film you’ll want to pull in close, hold tight, and keep with you.

If Passengers was about two people who woke up at random and fell in love, it could be a pretty decent sci-fi adventure. Instead it suggests that consent doesn’t matter, codes stalking as romance, and lionizes its male lead while turning its female character into a love-sick damsel.

Rules Don’t Apply could have been an insightful look at a tragic, troubled figure. Instead Beatty made a conventional romance with lead characters we hardly care about.

Fantastic Beasts is a good movie, and offers a fun and inventive return to Rowling’s wizarding world, but it could have been a better movie if didn’t waste so much time setting up a new franchise.

The movie gives us fragments of characters and rich flashbacks, but they’re not supported by a fully-formed narrative. Lee has boldly introduced a new technology, but that technology was a bad fit for this project.

Taylor’s film lacks the suspense required of a thriller. It’s a cheap exploitation of the horrors of alcoholism, depression, and domestic abuse that thinks it’s much smarter and artsier than it is.

Masterminds stars some of the funniest names in comedy. Kristen Wiig. Kate McKinnon. Zach Galifianakis. Jason Sudeikis. Leslie Jones. Too bad the movie isn’t funny.

It shirks the typical Disney model of an untouchable, picturesque fantasy by telling a more grounded, human story coursing with love and earnestness.

The real treasure of A United Kingdom is the tender chemistry between Oyelowo and Pike, whose scenes together offer the film’s best moments.

It’s a film that slowly sneaks up on you, imbued with such quiet emotions that you don’t feel its full weight and beauty until it ends.

Snowden has some entertaining sequences, many of which explain the whistleblower’s story in an easily digestible narrative that doesn’t insult the audience’s intelligence or think too highly of itself. But the final moments are a mess; Stone isn’t interested in showing us the real version of the man, only his glorified version.

Pure and simple, Catfight is a total blast.

Instead of observing its historical subject from behind a glass case, Jackie offers a piercing portrait of a woman’s psychological and emotional journey.

It’s a film that aches with beauty. It cries with longing. It quakes with a rich sadness that lingers with you long after the final moments. A masterpiece of poetic filmmaking, Moonlight is one of the most powerful films of the year.

Nocturnal Animals doesn’t have much substance, but its dazzling style is hard to completely resist.

The film will be remembered for its performances, but it should also be remembered for its messy, realistic examination of the complicated decisions we’re faced with in life.

Unafraid to expose her character's weaknesses and degradation, White Girl establishes Wood as a brazen new talent to watch.

At its heart, Florence Foster Jenkins is about a woman at her most unabashedly genuine, and there’s something admirable about that.

Morris From America is a sweet movie, but it doesn’t take us anywhere new. Its sincerity is admirable, but if Hartigan had dug a little deeper he could’ve captured something distinct and special.

Southside With You’s greatest assets are its performances.

Lowery’s visual world essentially translates the movie’s message, that magic is everywhere if you allow yourself to see it. It may be a cliché and sappy sentiment, and one we’ve seen again and again in movies, but when done right it can be a beautiful one.

While a reunion between Greengrass and Damon should feel like a refreshing extension of the franchise, Jason Bourne is just another replica, and an unnecessary one. The familiar pieces are in place, but it adds nothing that Greengrass hadn’t already accomplished. Maybe its best we let Jason Bourne retire for good.

The Infiltrator isn’t necessarily bad, it just has nothing unique, compelling, or memorable to offer in its over two-hour runtime.

It might not be remembered in years to come, but it’s good family entertainment, and sometimes that’s enough.

The last thing America needs is a historical movie correlating white people problems with those of people of color.

Now You See Me 2 is an essential example of how inessential movie sequels have become. It ignores what was good about the first film, abandons its defining characteristics, and tells a story nobody asked for.

If The Conjuring is an example of the haunted house movie done right, The Conjuring 2 is an example of everything gone wrong. You can only retread old tropes so many times.

Bobin’s visual palette merely hikes up the contrast of every scene, as if enough color might mask the frail narrative beneath.

If Angry Birds fully embraced its message, it could have been a refreshing surprise. But like the mindless video game that inspired it, there’s little here beyond fleeting satisfaction.

It may not be as poignant a story as its characters give way to, nor reach the cathartic resolutions it builds towards, but The Family Fang is still a refreshingly creative approach to the family drama.

Its sheer over-the-top excess and lack of taking itself too seriously allow it to become a delightful, exhilarating concoction of its many pieces, and much more accessible and entertaining than the dizzying cinéma vérité of its parent movie.

The biggest strength of Zootopia is in how it acknowledges all identities are capable of carrying prejudice and wielding judgement, yet the first step toward change is awareness.

It’s both an accomplishment in introspective, transcendent filmmaking, and a puzzle as imbalanced as the knight at its center. We may not quite be able to understand it, but Knight of Cups certainly feels like a work of a great talent who’s still figuring out what he’s trying to say.

Kelly’s generic characters, stale humor, and dated storyline about the macho father rejecting his gay son have all been done before, and no longer feel relevant.

Daddy’s Home is the white bread of family comedies, stuffed with everything you’ve seen before.

Even when the film does try to rouse emotion, it feels like a last minute attempt to make up for lack of character development.

Borg/McEnroe isn’t a complete misfire, just more of a missed opportunity. Metz’s artful direction, the taut final match and LaBeouf’s rage-fueled antics are worth the ticket price alone. But it leaves you wondering how fantastic a full-on LaBeouf-McEnroe biopic could’ve been.