Emily Zemler

It’s a small film that leaves behind big ripples.

This is a film that everyone, but particularly women, should see. It is a core-shattering experience in every frame.

The Worst Person in the World is a poignant reminder there is beauty in that uncertainty if we can only accept it.

This is Gyllenhaal’s directorial debut, and in her capable hands the story is purposefully hazy, unfolding in both present day and disjointed flashbacks, opening space for the audience to question the behavior of these characters and the societal pressures driving their actions.

In small ways, Hansen-Løve allows One Fine Morning to break the viewer’s heart, but overall the film is unexpectedly hopeful. Anyone who has guided a parent through a debilitating disease will find the story especially heartbreaking, particularly as Sandra begins to crack under the weight of her father’s suffering. But One Fine Morning is also about starting again and finding joy in the midst of sadness.

Like the book, Chris Sanders’ onscreen adaptation is compassionate, funny and filled with unexpectedly poignant moments.

The high-thrills onscreen version, which adheres relatively closely to reality, is taut, exciting and will send viewers to frantically search Wikipedia for the rest of the story.

This is a deeply personal film, which may feel unexpected in a Pixar movie. But the pains of growing up and feeling stuck between youthful adventure and the tradition of your family are resonant for any viewer, regardless of their own experience with puberty.

Stephen Frears’ latest based-on-a-true story onscreen endeavor is at the same time compelling and endearing, perhaps because at its core it’s a story about the common man triumphing over naysayers.

Even the film’s title lacks a much-needed punch. Ridley is a strong action heroine, but she deserves better material than this.

The Northman is a big-budget epic, but it retains those indie roots, with Eggers bringing in all of the elements that have made his past films so aesthetically successful.

Written and directed by Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert, collectively known as Daniels, the movie is an explosion of creative weirdness that is equal parts exhilarating and overwhelming.

Miller is an undeniable storyteller and filmmaker, and Furiosa is an epic, world-building creation imbued with its own vast mythology and expansive scope.

This is the sort of riotous good time you want to watch in a crowd with shared laughs and gasps.

Holofcener is a master at these microcosms, which feel like a glimpse into someone’s actual life. She show it to us with empathy and curiosity in a way that feels oddly revolutionary. There’s no VFX, no stunts—just a few people attempting to navigate the ups and downs of human existence.

It is infectiously delightful, even if you’re someone who might typically steer clear of chipper, pink-hued flicks. Somehow Gerwig has struck a balance between unhinged whimsy, deep humanity and comedic bliss. It’s funny, it will make you cry and it feels almost like a rebellion.

After Yang is a beautiful film, both in how it looks and in what it evokes.

The film, written by Dan Mazeau and directed by Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, is well-intentioned in its thematic arc, but its execution falters.

It would easy to call Women Talking a #MeToo movie, but it’s a lot more than that. These aren’t trendy conversations; they’re long-held struggles that people of all genders have faced for generations. Instead, Polley asks why people are forced to endure such horrific repression and violence because they are female. The question resonates far beyond the end of the film, although there is no quick answer.

While the plot and characterization occasionally falter, Lopez is charismatic, tough and—it has to be said—totally ripped.

Ali & Ava is a gentle, emotionally-charged drama that doesn’t placate the viewer with unrealistic ideas about love.

Ford isn’t interested in a slick, high-speed thriller, and the action in Emily the Criminal feels grounded in reality. Plaza, whose dramatic presence is as compelling as her comedic skill, imbues the character with genuine vulnerability alongside her grit.

It would have been an obvious choice for Ava DuVernay to make a documentary out of Isabel Wilkerson’s best-selling book Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents. But the resulting drama, written and directed by DuVernay, is far more compelling, interrogating hugely complex concepts with consideration and surprisingly emotional gravity.

Her recent film Sharp Stick was classic Dunham, with a focus on sex and drama in a way that didn’t connect with all viewers. This one, intended for a family-friendly audience, connects far more broadly. It welcomes everyone, even those unfamiliar with the novel, into its delightful, funny world.

My Old Ass is a success because it’s so earnest, allowing these ideas to resonate with subtle humor, emotional heft and, most importantly, self-acceptance.

I Used to Be Funny reflects on essential concepts, even if it doesn’t always grasp them in a satisfying way. Still, it’s worth watching Sennott in almost anything.

It’s occasionally diverting, sure, but so is killing time while you wait for your flight to board.

She Said is not a ground-breaking tale. What makes it interesting is the depiction of Megan and Jodi as working moms who are forced to struggle within a system that prioritizes male needs.