Gregory Ellwood

Only the combined talents of both Blanchett and Mara can make the film's powerfully realized finale work.

Outside of a few short moments in Ismail Merchant and James Ivory’s “Maurice,” and Ang Lee’s “Brokeback Mountain,” the love and intimacy between two male characters has never truly felt this real or emotionally heartbreaking in a theatrical context. It’s almost revolutionary. It’s cinematic art.

There are two things that make this movie stand apart: Metcalf and Gerwig.

Like any creative endeavor a film is the sum of its parts. In the most elementary terms it needs a screenplay as a base, a cast to bring the script to life and a director to orchestrate the pieces into something of considerable impact. Excuse the hyperbole, but Tom McCarthy's Spotlight is an example of when all those pieces fit together almost perfectly.

This is a film you can dissect for hours. A movie full of details and creative choices that will spur debate and passion. Another work of Glazer’s full of images that may haunt you for weeks. And well worth almost the decade it took to get here.

Despite what may initially seem to be a somewhat straightforward contemporary drama, Hamaguchi has crafted a rich, skilfully layered masterwork with flawless performances and a script that is a screenwriter’s holy grail. It sticks in your brain for days and nudges you to take it in again.

In terms of filmmaking prowess, "remarkable" may not do Laszlo Nemes' holocaust drama "Son of Saul" justice.

To say it’s a stellar feat of cinema is something of an understatement.

It’s somewhat remarkable a new work exists that sparks such conversation in the first place. Even if it doesn’t completely succeed, that’s art. That’s dynamic. That deserves your attention.

While Baker has proven his worth as a true cinematic auteur, his greatest skill has been guiding his actors to new heights wherever his stories may take them. You’ll have to decide if that’s enough to gloss over the rough patches this time around.

We’d be reminiscent to not admit this is the sort of movie that’s hard to shake. We haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Considering how rare that is, maybe that’s just as gracious a compliment as admitting to bawling while the credits roll.

The most remarkable aspect of Victor’s accomplishment with Sorry, Baby isn’t her wry sense of humor and deft observations about the inherent awkwardness of human social interactions (although it consistently pops). Instead, it’s how she emphasizes the seriousness of the events while staying true to Agnes’ unique personality.

Fox knows firsthand the events that occur to Dern’s character in her feature narrative debut because they happened to her. And beyond its creative success and failures, her willingness to tell her own story in such graphic detail is a startlingly brave act.

There is barely a manufactured minute in the film. Everything fits together organically and in a narrative film that is much harder to pull off than it sounds.

Despite a very frank and welcome illustration of gay sexuality rarely seen in modern media (in this manner at least), Greater Freedom continually teases us with storylines and subject matter by choosing to frame this era through a relationship that it cannot rationalize.

You believe this woman exists. And Leigh and Jean-Baptiste ensure she will haunt you.

What immediately comes to the forefront is that McDonagh has choreographed an almost impossible feat of a brutally dark comedy that, thanks to both Rockwell and McDormand, elicits an emotional response you simply don’t see coming.

Despite the efforts of Hopkins and an outstanding ensemble, Zeller can’t divorce his feature directorial debut from its theatrical origins.

Israel, as noted by her own writing, had a caustic wit that works with McCarthy’s comedic talents. She also brings a depth of emotion to Israel that comes to a head in a wonderfully composed scene with Grant at the end of the film.

For all of Heller's impressive direction, she could have delivered something soulless without Powley's contributions.

Room is simply a movie about mother and son trying to adapt to the outside world after years of forced captivity. And the surprise is how succinctly it captures this drastic life change from the perspective of five-year-old.

As with much of his previous work, Trier is masterful with delicate, humanist moments.

While Eisenberg is excellent on screen, especially during a dinner scene when he unloads his concerns over David to his fellow tourists, it’s Culkin who, rightfully, steals the film.

Amy also turns the camera back on the viewer who saw, mocked and ignored Winehouse’s descent as it transpired across the media landscape. How could the world collectively denigrate a woman whose addiction was destroying her? In this era of reactionary social media it’s a warning to all of us to be wary of stoning the next Amy in the digital town square.

The empathetic instincts of Sanders and his talented artists result in a tearjerker of an ending that may have you bawling.

Mudbound soars thanks to the impressive performances of the ensemble cast and, notably, Rees’ intent on depicting the harsh reality of this pre-Civil Rights era, warts and all.

While you know where “God’s Own” is going most of the way Lee finds a way to breathe new life into it (to a point).

Loznitsa and his creative team have been meticulous in how every shot plays out. And as hinted earlier, the entire motion picture is meticulous to a fault. It’s only a somewhat twisty ending that saves the endeavor from blowing its relevance away.