Glenn Heath Jr.

If the film covers well-tread territory (a morally bankrupt player trying to prolong his own influence), it does so with pinpoint control of mood and theme.

Hard Times feels most like a brilliant prerequisite to the cinema of Michael Mann, a focused neo-western where the last man standing is the one truest to himself.

Part dream, part nightmare, the film vividly remembers a traumatic moment in time that cannot be forgotten.

The film is ripe with powerful subtext, specifically how greed, celebrity, and technology help to form a misguided sense of opportunity that keeps the working class downtrodden.

Amy Seimetz's intoxicating slice of genre revisionism earns its "neo" prefix, envisioning a brightly sinister world where desperation is the new normal.

The seamless juxtaposition of faith and pain, innocence and guilt, allows the film to transcend Spike Lee's occasional bombastic moments and become a strong examination of internal suffering.

Walter Hill thoughtfully regards the pummeling power of weaponry at work.

One can’t mistake I Spit in Your Grave for anything other than a raging political text, a rigorous reminder to the power of a disturbed imagination, be it victimizer or victim.

Both as a character study and modern-day parable, Toll Booth sneaks up on you with its subtle use of repeating motifs and audible cues.

Documentarian and subject, past and present blur together like bleeding watercolors in Raymond De Felitta's gripping memoir.

A visceral symphony of screeching tires and crushing metal.

Throughout, it becomes clear that both the film and its subject are defined by the necessity of multitasking.

When Papushado’s film finds the right tonal balance, meshing noir bleakness with pops of art deco color, there are fireworks to behold.

Often charming in the most confrontational way possible, Straight Up pays due respect to the endlessly creative ways people delude themselves into avoiding difficult realities. It may talk (and talk) a good game, but it’s in the quieter moments of silence when it speaks volumes about the perils of modern alienation.

What the film does have is Andra Day, whose blisteringly raw central performance as the heroin-addicted musician brings a dynamic charge to nearly every scene.

The film would almost certainly benefit from more brawling and less speechifying since Jordan in particular is very good at the former. The actor’s bottled up intensity, convincingly unleashed in Black Panther and Creed, is this film’s greatest asset.

The most interesting dimension of Altered States has to be the way Russell sexualizes Eddie’s relationship with godly figures, most notably symbols of Jesus, crucifixion, and his father.

While not nearly as emotionally impacting as some of Disney’s other classics, Bambi might be the most restrained and lyrical of the bunch, a poem to the simplicity and purity of natural life.

Watching Dennis Farina dominate every scene is a joy, and thankfully the actor makes the most of this opportunity.

For a film that often veers into potentially absurd territory, You Hurt My Feelings shows a great deal of sensitivity toward its sad-sack characters.

Using a whirlwind of archival footage, maps, and split screens, Edmon Roch conveys Juan Pujol Garcia's reign as Europe's premiere spy in a constantly fluid fashion, aesthetically mimicking his crafty and cagey nature.

When considering the best voiceover artists in cinema history, Ryan Reynolds doesn't immediately come to mind as an especially dynamic one.

People matter in Matthew Lillard's film; genre not so much.

A strange and intoxicating indie constructed as a series of vignettes that capture two children grappling with the overlap of trauma and nostalgia.

It'd be unwise to dismiss Safe House as merely a clone of Tony Scott's manically inclined vision.

Director Leon Ford displays a wonderful empathy in his examination of Griff and Melody's lonely environments, allowing their fringe perspectives to flower organically from the mise-en-scène.

This arc may sound particularly familiar on paper, but To Be Heard finds the unique passions and heartaches in all three stories, allowing the viewer to become invested in whatever outcome befalls each subject.

What sets Undefeated apart from the usual underdog sports story is how the filmmakers emphasize the importance of mentorship as something separate from on-the-field interactions between coach and player.