Gary Goldstein

It’s a tricky balancing act that Feinartz depicts with candor, grace and patience, never letting the film’s provocative pathos turn overly grim or sentimental.

Yousef, who also edited the film, vividly dissects the artist’s complicated life with the help of strong archival and personal footage as well as candid interviews with family members, colleagues and a solid array of art-world figures.

Eisenberg furthers himself here as a distinctive voice, one with a keen visual sense, a masterful ability to juggle tones and an innate feel for timing and pacing.

From start to finish, it’s an original, wholly unpredictable experience. It’s also, by turns, gripping, provocative, head-scratching and disturbing, and is likely to divide viewers with its dreamlike ambitions and metaphorical musings.

If Remembering Gene Wilder isn’t always the most dimensional or penetrating look at an actor’s life and psyche, it still serves as an upbeat tribute to a singular movie star, and a worthy reminder of how much he’s missed.

If the script can sometimes feel a tad pro forma, the film still proves an authentically moving and involving crowd-pleaser.

Although Pierre’s intentions remain debatable, the story becomes a subtle treatise on solitude, ecology and, it would seem, following your bliss.

Open your heart and turn off your logic meter and you‘re going to enjoy “You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah.”

The result is a compact and captivating look at an intriguing, at times high-flying, well-lived life.

It’s a loving, rousing look at an amazing athlete. Yet for all its gripping, nail-biting action clips, there’s one moment in the film that rises above the rest — and it’s not set on the race course.

Kudos to the Stedelijk for opening itself up to such firsthand scrutiny and to Vos for spotlighting such a vastly relevant topic in a way that’s both insightful and entertaining.

The doc, shot from 2019 to 2021, is more successful when it reminds us of the dazzling scope of the Voyager mission, especially in its early days when it fed the public’s appetite for real-life outer space adventure in the biggest way since the 1969 moon landing.

James and Latif make an appealing, soulful twosome, infusing their nicely dimensional, well-modulated characters with low-key charm and credible longing.

[Evans and de Armas] take the film’s ridiculousness just seriously enough to keep barreling through while navigating the more puckish bits with the requisite charm and buoyancy.

A Good Person isn’t an easy ride but, like such disparate, if similarly themed, movies as “Rabbit Hole,” “Waves” and “Four Good Days,” it’s a haunting slice of real life that will make you think, feel and maybe even want to reach out to your loved ones.

If “lovely” is not the first word you’d think would be used to describe a movie about attempted murder, then you haven’t seen Moving On, an amusing and bittersweet little tale of love, friendship and, yes, retribution.

This Magic Flute has much to recommend and is a worthy, well-performed, often stirring and dazzling take on an enduring masterwork.

The lovely and lyrical Blueback is a transporting mother-daughter (and fish) drama as well as a beautifully shot memory piece that will reward patient viewers able to settle in and enjoy the film’s accessibly low-key vibe.

Although this well-acted film, which was Israel’s official submission for the 2022 international film Oscar, is a bit slow-going, it presents a timely, pointed, at times cleverly satirical snapshot of Israeli-Palestinian relations. It also offers an often poignant look at a dysfunctional family at the center of it all.

Le Guay effectively keeps the pressure on his characters and their loaded situation throughout, using ominous camera angles and anxious music cues to heighten the dread and uncertainty. He receives a fine assist from Renier and Cluzet, who commit to their divergent roles with unnerving intensity. It’s a terrific film.

If yielding to nostalgia often makes people recall a more affectionate and wistful version of what actually was, this stirring, evocative film likely will leave viewers haunted by what might have been.

There’s certainly enough potential mayhem, desperation and danger here (including the gangsters on Sang-hyeon’s tail) for “Broker” to have become a dark, propulsive action-drama, in another filmmaker’s hands. But Kore-eda focuses on — and mines — the grace notes, better angels and soulfulness of his characters in such lovely and relatable ways that we’re grateful for his humanistic, more empathetic priorities.

For its visual appeal alone it’s worth a theatrical visit ahead of its Netflix premiere next month.

The docudrama Framing Agnes is a fascinating, multidimensional, mosaic-like glimpse at transgender life from the 1950s to today as interpreted by — and through — a group of transmasculine and transfeminine performers and creatives and one uniquely impressive academic.

Sr. proves a tender portrait and fitting tribute to an offbeat hero and creative pioneer.

Spirited, the umpteenth screen incarnation of Charles Dickens’ evergreen “A Christmas Carol,” is such an amusing, buoyant and good-natured entertainment that it’s not hard to forgive this flashy musical-comedy-fantasy’s missteps. Grinchy viewers, however, may sing a different tune.

My Policeman is an absorbing, resonant, deeply wistful adaptation of the 2012 novel by Bethan Roberts that will probably be best appreciated — stylistically, thematically, romantically — if judged more within the context of its mainly mid-20th century setting than by contemporary expectations.

Ultimately, and perhaps most beautifully, the film makes a case, à la the musical “Rent,” about how, in the end, we must measure our life in love. On that score, Eli Timoner left the world a very wealthy man.