Glenn Heath Jr.

At the center of it all is Hanks, our moral compass, our trembling hand, who has amazingly never headlined a Western in his four-decade career. Only his bearded, weary face could have brought such empathy and grace to a brutal portrait of rotting Manifest Destiny forever stuck in the mud.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

Not only does its incredibly loose aesthetic challenge the traditionally controlled and slick conventions of the cop genre, it adds a certain visceral haziness that compliments Brown's own professional and personal immorality.

The film ultimately fails to treat history as anything but a string of melodramatic reference points for moody characters haplessly trying to find love.

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.

End of Watch is pure frat-boy fantasy, the video game to Southland's great American novel.

Enough coincidence and happenstance exists in this film to fill a dozen studio love stories, but that doesn’t mean any of it is unearned. There’s no safety net here, making Tsuji and Ukiyo’s epic tale of unrequited love, absence, and yearning the ultimate leap of faith.

Exquisite looking but substantially hollow.

Nina Rosenblum's love letter never attains that essence of ambiguity that makes the best nonfiction films live on after the credits fade.

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.

If the trajectory of R foreshadows tragedy early and often (what prison film doesn't?), the filmmakers manage to infuse quiet moments of reflection and panic into each man's traumatic experience.

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.

The film's interest in social themes remains background fodder within a far more generic good-versus-evil narrative.

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

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

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

The film grows increasingly tiresome the more it flirts with melodrama, unraveling themes of jealousy, regret, and ambition in broad strokes.

Maybe the most surprising thing about Godzilla vs. Kong is Wingard’s uninspired directorial choices.

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.

Clunky and cranky in the most charming of ways, the film always moves in sync with its 91-year-old star, lingering on moments of solitude for long periods while brushing past more traditional plot points with ease.

All in all, Cowperthwaite (who directed the documentary Blackfish and made her narrative debut with Megan Leavey) has a difficult time giving the film any sense of style. Montages pop up exactly where one would expect, and nasty arguments are given the classic hand-held touch.

A visceral symphony of screeching tires and crushing metal.

Visually glassy and smooth, Perfect Sense values the dynamic mood of each scene without being overly stylized.

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