Hoai-Tran Bui

The search for one's identity is never an easy one. "Return to Seoul" understands that, and allows us to live in — and finally, accept — that uncertainty.

Is it exceptionally groundbreaking? No. But it's fun, and frothy, and clever enough that it makes for an easygoing hour and a half watch.

Don't Worry Darling wants to be a transhumanist "Truman Show," but ends up playing out more like a mostly okay episode of "Black Mirror." In fact, Don't Worry Darling recycles a bunch of ideas and imagery from other films, which it attempts to imbue with a fresh, new sociopolitical angle. But it can't overcome its rather simplistic story and a disappointing reveal that ultimately doesn't match up to its build-up.

It's romantic escapism at its finest, a brief diversion from our grim reality that is just novel enough to make it worth our time.

Vengeance manages to balance its self-effacing and sentimental tones in a way that is extremely satisfying and entertaining to watch.

Next Exit is a moody and haunting character exercise, centering around the terrific central performances by Katie Parker and Rahul Kohli, but a little underbaked otherwise.

Don't Make Me Go is at its strongest when Cho and Isaac are onscreen together, reflecting back the kind of tense, but loving, father-daughter dynamic which is so lovingly familiar and relatable to many of us.

Lightyear may not reach the heights of the great sci-fi movies that it pays tribute to, or even the "Toy Story" movies themselves. But it's a visually impressive, escapist riff on the sci-fi epic that, at the very least, might become the favorite movie of some kid, somewhere.

Cruz is the film's MVP as Lola, kookier than she's ever been, and playing well into the character's question mark of a persona — is she a true auteur or a hack? You never really find out, but watching Lola become increasingly disillusioned with the whole project makes her the closest we get to a relatable character in this whole heightened satire.

The Bob's Burgers Movie is a little overlong. It takes a while for the plot to kick in, and by the time it does, it drags out the conflict, heightening the stakes to ludicrous degrees. And while it could've just been an episode of the show, it justifies its existence with its surplus of joyful musical songs and its surprisingly dark turns — which really only emerge in the last half hour of the movie. But mostly, it justifies itself by reaffirming why we always come back to the Belcher family. They're the sweet, emotional core of the movie, the meat of this mystery burger that we want to order over and over again.

Paired with Danny Elfman's fizzy score, Raimi elevates "Multiverse of Madness" from the bridge-building bit of IP it so transparently is. While he doesn't quite elevate it to the "madness" that the film promises, he does, for a few brief, shining moments, show the kids how those superhero movies could be done.

Marvelous and the Black Hole is a satisfying showcase from Tsang, who really draws from her animation background to show these moments of intense emotion from Sammy, but its broad strokes are a little...broad.

It's when the film meets between these two modes — the mythic and the realistic — that it's at its most thrilling.

There's a goofy sincerity to the movie even as it sends up better movies that came before it (complete with corny needle drops), and it retains that old Hollywood screwball spirit that gives it a timeless feeling. It's nothing new, and lord knows it's nothing groundbreaking, but boy, is it fun.

Despite its many twists, The Outfit is a fairly straightforward thriller, buoyed by its sharp narrative turns and a quietly subversive Rylance.

Turning Red" is another Pixar homerun, a low-stakes adventure turned high-stakes thanks to its heightened emotions and envelope-pushing animation style. It's loud and unapologetic, and while that frenzy of stuff can sometimes turn frantic, it's one of the most accurate cinematic depictions of what it was like to be a hormonal teenage girl.

While competently performed — Liu in particular is exceptional, lending a fraught likability to Darby; Haysbert exudes a natural warmth; and Dickey gives a good frayed performance despite a disappointing characterization — and decently directed, it feels like there's something missing from No Exit.

If you poke too many holes in the narrative, Spider-Man: No Way Home starts to become undone. But if you take it at face value, it's a sweet, moving swing of a "Spider-Man" film that (mostly) manages to land.

I Was a Simple Man is a slow-burning walk toward the light, a paean for life, and the land and people that shaped it. It's the kind of love letter that only a lifelong resident of Hawaii like Yogi could make, to a resilient land whose scars will take long to heal.

There's something about a Mike Mills film that feels like it's gently caressing the hair out of your face and kissing you on the forehead: a softness, a wistfulness that acknowledges how hard reality can be while tucking you into bed. While "C'mon C'mon" can't protect you from the world, it can at the very least hold your hand as it tries to figure out the path forward too.

Petite Maman is richer in its simplicity; a lovely slice-of-life tale that knows that loss is so enormous and monumental that we can only linger with it for brief moments.

King Richard isn't looking to break the sports biopic genre or break the Williams' sister's legacy; it's purely a crowd-pleasing performance vehicle for Smith. But you know what? It does its job.

Painfully earnest and positively exuberant, Tick, Tick... BOOM! isn't counting down to some kind of tragic fate. It's an explosion of life, energy, the ecstasy of being alive and making something. It's an ode to the creatives who fear they'll never reach the greatness they've been grasping at. It's a promise that they might.

With Eternals, Marvel turns a risky gamble into another piece of the puzzle. Its cosmic ambitions, its prevailing humanism amid a nihilistic outlook, and its gestures at maturity — the (real!) sex scene, the depth and warmth that they give to Henry's LGBTQ relationship — are not enough to make Eternals more than just another film to fit neatly in the Marvel Studios mold. But even so, Zhao brings an elegance to the film and the cast bring a vulnerability and care to their characters that leave a lingering impression, even as the last super-punch fades.

As visually overwhelming and artfully engineered a film as The French Dispatch is, it's also one of secret warmth lurking beneath the surface.

It's a heartbreaking, but clear-eyed look at the last gasp of a dying industry, and a man whose whole identity, whole livelihood gets shattered by a force beyond his comprehension.

Slightly confused as Titane might be in what it's trying to say, at least it is saying something bold and wild and challenging. It's a head-pumping, face-splitting, heart-tugging visceral experience of a film that is better left, well, experienced for yourself.

Coen shows an understanding of Shakespeare's original play as well as a willingness to go beyond it. His "Tragedy of Macbeth" leans into the staginess of the story, while tapping into the surreal nightmare of the whole thing. It's nothing short of magnificent.

Chon aims for the pulse at the end, but he may not have realized that he didn't have to try so hard — he had already effortlessly plucked at the heartstrings.

Mogul Mowgli is an imperfect exploration of cultural identity and generational trauma, but in its messiness and chaos, it feels all the more genuine.

As Marvel remixes go, Shang-Chi is one of the more successful ones. Maybe not as stylistically strong as Black Widow and certainly not as much of a watershed moment as Black Panther, it is elevated by the strength of its hard-hitting fight scenes and the supporting performers — especially the Tony Leung of it all.

A mesmerizing exercise in the mundane, Days is almost completely free of dialogue — and intentionally unsubtitled for this reason — inducing a kind of calm hypnotic state that makes the viewer even more aware of the sharp stabs of loneliness felt by his longtime muse Lee Kang-sheng.

Despite its very flawed ending and baggy structure, Stillwater goes against the tide of our expectations and offers us a disarmingly affecting character study, anchored by an exceptional performance by Damon. Not even his bad beard could distract from that.

At times, The Suicide Squad feels less like a movie than a mission statement from a director. Behold, look what I can do with a budget and all the comic book characters I can play with. But, the unexpected heart at the center of the film, a sneaky anti-imperialist bent, and Gunn’s wild visual leaps make The Suicide Squad a bloody, gory delight.

The enormity of this film intimidates me. And it hypnotizes me, and seduces me, and captures me until it feels as if the green has grown like moss over my entire body. But rather than threatening to choke, The Green Knight injects a new source of oxygen into the sword-and-sorcery genre.

The sentimentality threatens to veer into melodrama at points, which Pratt struggles to handle. But The Tomorrow War has got a trashy popcorn vibe to it that it wholeheartedly embraces, and a cornball machismo that you can’t help but get taken in by, even if just for a second.

Fuhrman’s performance is so unhinged, and Hadaway’s direction is so merciless, that The Novice constantly dances on the edge of character drama and full-fledged horror movie. It’s an impressive feat of incisively dark tone, even if the plot and characters are little more than shadows.

All These Sons falls short of Liu’s tremendous documentary feature debut, but shows that the Minding the Gap filmmaker is capable of tackling a complicated and knotty subject with the same kind of laser-focused intimacy that he showed in his first autobiographical outing. There may be a distance to All These Sons, but its clear-eyed compassion makes it a solid and effective follow-up.

The layered dynamics and pure, honest emotions underneath Luca‘s simple coming-of-age story are what elevate the film to one of Pixar’s best — and an example of what animation can be if they stop trying to race forward, and just stop and take a breath.

Despite its minor missteps, In the Heights is an unabashed delight. The cast all give deeply felt, deeply fun performances, with Ramos, Merediz, and Barrera as standouts. In the Heights is a celebration of a rich culture and a group of dreamers, who are messy and full of contradictions, but whose emotions always ring true.

It’s a dichotomy that makes up most of the movie — is it a horror or a post-apocalyptic adventure? Krasinski frequently rejected the “horror” label for the first A Quiet Place, presumably to make the film more accessible to all audiences, but it might be that he doesn’t have the interest in making a straightforward horror film. In the process, A Quiet Place II falls somewhere in between, with the effective thrills and jump scares of a horror film, but with an overly familiar post-apocalyptic plot that we’ve seen many times before.

It’s a sturdy spy thriller from Zhang, a competent first outing in the genre for the filmmaker. But most of all, Cliff Walkers is safe.

One film shouldn’t have to handle the weight of representing an entire geographic region, and I don’t expect Raya and the Last Dragon to do so, though it appears to desperately want to. But taken purely as an action epic, Raya and the Last Dragon is a real treat.

It’s an interesting idea on page, but in John and the Hole, it is all a little too opaque to make sense of Sisto’s muted portrait of adolescence.

With its flat hand-drawn characters moving briskly across the richly detailed backgrounds, Cryptozoo is bursting to the seams with dazzling, shocking, brutal (and edgy, this is an adult animated film, remember) visuals.

It’s a crowd-pleaser, to be sure, and a little on the corny side, but it’s so unwavering in its sincerity that it manages to hit all the right notes.

Soul is dealing with themes that may even be beyond its grasp. The idea of creative passions becoming a reason for living has been a recurring thread through most Pixar films, but Soul attempts to dig deeper. And while it may not find one perfect discernible answer, it’s a search that feels inherently…soulful.

If there ever was a role that played perfectly to Pascal’s natural charisma, it’s Maxwell Lord.

Its disquieting moments of magical realism paired with the all-consuming romance shared between Undine and Christoph — which feels as grand and tragic as the best cinematic love stories — add some warmth to Undine‘s chilly, cosmic exterior.

In The Woman Who Ran, Hong lets go of all vanity and gives Kim a well-deserved spotlight. With Kim’s rueful performance, and the film’s roaming, Eric Rohmer-like sensibilities, The Woman Who Ran allows itself to take solace in serenity and not worry so much about the would haves and could haves.

It is difficult and uneasy, and often feels more punishing than entertaining.

On the Rocks isn’t Coppola’s most momentous film — it’s a little too frothy, all crackle and no pop — but its near lackadaisical tone and a delightful Murray performance make it an entertaining watch. It goes down like a smooth glass of wine, with perhaps a little bit of tartness.

With Mangrove, it feels like McQueen has put the story — of Black pain, Black joy, and Black triumph — back in the hands of the London West Indian community.

Clocking in at a little over an hour, Lovers Rock is naturally a little lean, limited by its one-night premise and its brief sojourn into these characters’ lives. But it’s a tone poem that feels at once a love letter to the style of reggae music which it’s named after, and to the people who danced and fell in love to that music in ’80s London.

Face the Music is just so overwhelmingly nice. It’s a cheesy, dopey, pure comedy about people who care a lot — maybe about trivial things, maybe about the wrong things — but boy do they care. And they just want to share their joy for the things they care about (namely rock ‘n’ roll) to the world. So sit back, don’t think too much, and party on, dudes.

Train to Busan may have injected some life into the genre once again with its surprisingly heartfelt narrative, but Peninsula brings it back to those B-movie trappings. It’s not particularly clever or groundbreaking. But you know what? It’s pretty damn fun.

Howard feels like an in-memoriam tribute from a friend: made with a rosy sense of nostalgia, and perhaps a few too many photo montages, but with love.

Though Munden attempts to overload our senses with rich visuals, The Secret Garden does end up feeling kind of slight, like the film rushed through the SparkNotes version of the story.

Though the flavors of past genres are present in Lucky Grandma, all those ingredients add up to a truly unique, unforgettable dish that brings a familiar formula to a whole new level.

The film toys with a lot of weighty ideas about faith and soulmates, which it never is quite able to form a coherent message about, but its unexpected ode to platonic soulmates and its thoughtful depiction of immigrant life in smalltown America is a sweet, refreshing addition to the coming-of-age genre.

It’s a love letter, full of scribbles and crossed out words, and parts of which are more eloquent than others. And while Tigertail is a messy and somewhat incoherent love letter, it’s one filled to the brim with that a sincere love and emotion nonetheless.

Despite its formulaic nature and its somewhat predictable beats, The Way Back extends beyond the typical sports drama by acknowledging the fantasy of it all: that one basketball game triumph becomes the easy solution to his problems that Jack is dreaming of. The road to recovery is hard work, and as The Way Back reveals, the work is never over.

Despite some storytelling stumbles, Standing Up, Falling Down manages to stay upright thanks to knockout performances from Schwartz and Crystal.

The result is a lively, kinetic film that dances between the natural and the fanciful, centered on a dynamo of a cinematic character played by the first-time actress.

There’s artificiality to Emma. that, while it makes it a joy to watch and admire, doesn’t leave us with much of a lasting impact. But despite all that, it is refreshing to see an Austen adaptation that finally captures the author’s witty, satirical talents.

With director Tanya Wexler lending the crime dramedy a zippy, irreverent flair, Buffaloed becomes the vehicle for which Deutch can finally show off her chops.

It’s not saying anything deep or groundbreaking about the female experience or the nature of revenge. Birds of Prey is reveling in being as gonzo and stylish as it can be. But when the fights are this thrilling and the humor this absurd, whatever’s underneath the surface doesn’t matter all that much.

Plus One isn’t a knock-off of one of the greatest rom-coms ever, it’s a deserving successor.

Ritchie doesn’t handle the messages he wishes to impart as skillfully as he could — instead, he’s preoccupied with revisiting the beats that made his acclaimed gangster films work best: the sleek style, the staccato rhythm, the casual hyperviolence that begets more violence and an occasional laugh.

The Hidden World isn’t “big.” It doesn’t offer a shattering emotional moment, it doesn’t tear your heart in pieces. Instead, it tugs at your heartstrings and gently guides you to the finish line of a wondrous, lovely franchise that was more than we deserved.

Weathering With You is far and away one of the loveliest and most beautiful animated films in years.

It can at times feel sentimental and mawkish — an inevitability of adapting the classic story — but no other film in 2019 has conveyed as much ineffable joy, or been such a testament to the human spirit.