John Fink

Edited with a brisk pace by Samuel Nalband, WeWork is a fascinating character study of the kind of entrepreneur that is often embraced without criticism by the financial press as a “thought leader” while offering vague catch phrases about “disruption” and “transformation.”

Striking a thoughtful tone, The Integrity of Joseph Chambers is an observant film about justification—one with quiet consequences that become somewhat apparent in the nearly perfect final scenes featuring Jeffrey Dean Morgan as chief of police in this small town. The deliberate pace is bolstered by the humor of Chambers essentially playing dress-up and getting himself in way over his head.

Moreh’s approach creates a surprisingly comprehensive, if (by design) one-sided, American-centric view of the peace process. Interviews and archival materials have a means of immersing us in the backroom discussion.

Unintentionally timely, A River Below may be read as a Trump-era document, a tale of environmentalists versus local industry.

In some passages, Cypher achieves a level of brilliance and psychological terror that becomes difficult to sustain as it winds towards its eventual conclusion.

While perhaps a bit too neat in terms of its plot and resolution, the film is an unflinching portrait and powerful character study that hinges upon Andrea Riseborough’s nuanced performance.

Well-constructed if not repetitive in certain passages, Lady Buds is an engaging and comprehensive look at the many dimensions of legalization, striking a friendly, conversational tone as it provides a deep dive into the supply chain, marketing, distribution and ultimately the bind the industry finds itself in as the drug is still considered at a federal level a controlled substance.

Bill Nye: Science Guy mixes science and inquiry with an intimate look at the personal trials and tribulations of Nye as he struggles with guilt, seeing his brother and sister suffer from a neurological condition that he’s escaped.

Dabka is a visceral, engaging, fast-paced journalism drama with authenticity and a few rough edges.

It’s a hard picture to dislike. The Belchers are such a purposefully weird and inclusive group; even if you haven’t seen the show you’ll feel right at home after a few minutes.

With a conversational tone framed by extensive archival footage and access to Smith and his family, Clerk is an intimate overview of Smith’s universe, inner circle, and influence over the course of his 25-plus year career.

What it lacks in originality it makes up for in its empathetic charm. Sometimes that’s just enough.

McDonnell and Golden’s Elián is a sweeping, definitive look at the saga, engaging and entertaining even if it contradicts what it sets out to do.

Schroder and his subject do have a nice casual familiarity; hopefully he’ll check in on Ingels every ten years or so.

Without taking itself too seriously or academically, Upgrade operates with a level of remarkable rigor. This is a film that kicks ass, takes names, and has a healthy skepticism of the future without straying too far away from its B-movie, body horror ambitions.

Vibrant and often hilarious––with a surprise appearance by Fred Durst, who becomes a spirit guide to help the kids “break stuff” and save humanity––Y2K is far from perfect, but it does try harder than most comedies in its densely accurate portrait of an era of angst awaiting the nightmares of the 9/11 era.

With two wonderful performances by Barbie Ferreira and John Leguizamo––playing two strangers who share the same last name but are otherwise unrelated––the film progresses into a moving yet somewhat predictable affair. And that’s okay.

A darker take on coming out, Plainclothes has a few familiar twists but ultimately succeeds through its performances and take on the material.

As an introduction to the subject matter and a portrait of the artist, Sky Ladder works nicely, condensing much into its 76 minutes. What is missing, apart from some minor personal drama, is more behind-the-scenes moments that might have been very interesting.

Our Hero Balthazar is an effective entry point into a crisis that truly needs more coverage in both documentary and narrative cinema.

An illuminating film about poverty that one hopes can be a call for action even if the film itself doesn’t directly encourage advocacy, it’s clear that hashtags and temporary fixes aren’t enough to change Ahkeem’s life.

Uncertain is somber and effective work of mood and tone — a study of time and place, biography and geography that offers a slice of life that’s perhaps cut a little too thin.

Following the events that led up to Winner’s arrest––including recordings of conversations between Winner and agents who stopped by for a friendly chat, along with the efforts of her loving family to advocate on her behalf–– Kennebeck again has crafted an often riveting exploration of the state of national security.

The Stroll is ultimately a celebration of the colorful personalities that worked the streets and have a story to tell. It’s a history of multiple communities and an important contribution to New York lore; a story told from the perspective of someone who made history and is now in a position to write it.

With a premise that is as simple or as complex as you’d like it to be, Monkey Man anoints Dev Patel as a new action director and star.

Through its experimental structure, The Tuba Thieves defies convention, creating a challenging experience that forces us to listen without an overarching narrative imposing some sense of order or the authority of a documentary filmmaker.

Kim’s Video is endlessly entertaining, embracing the energy of the films that made Redmon, a kid from Paris, Texas, who loved movies and was thankfully able to escape to New York at the right time and find Kim’s.

Far from dry, Braun’s film takes both a macro and micro approach from the personalities gambling on Herbalife’s stock, some with informed research — Ackman enlists a team of researchers, some of whom appear herein — to the grassroots, which he may or may not be supporting.

Dina will certainly provide fodder for discussion on documentary ethics, but what I do appreciate is its simplicity. It invites us in, allowing us to not only eavesdrop but intimately connect with folks we may not otherwise get to know as we pass by them in Walmart or on the bus.

Despite its spunky tone, Ask Dr. Ruth feels like several documentaries in one rather than a comprehensive look at a fascinating and enduring woman who shows no signs of slowing down. Thankfully, the film never feels as if it’s a work of branded content but rather an honest and intimate portrait of a revolutionary American cultural icon.

Director Bill Benz (best known for episodes of Portlandia), Clark, and Brownstein have a good deal of fun playing the business side of show business—the documentary filmmaker trying to find a unique angle between concert footage, or the star having to take mundane questions from the press in each city she visits on tour. It both documents an identify crisis and doesn’t.

I Will Make You Mine is a brisk and somewhat scrappy film at times rushing its third act and embracing its small-budget roots. While an abrupt climax leaves messy lives a little too neat and resolved, the film is a fitting and sweet third chapter in the Surrogate Valentine series.

In Loco Parentis is a warm work of cinéma vérité.

The film is unafraid of showing the real costs of political corruption from blood running in the streets to direct bribery at the polling stations on the day of the election. As intimate as it is brave, Softie is vivid warning and not an easy film to shake.

Superbly entertaining ... An engaging thriller first and a millennial can-do tale second, Tollman’s script sometimes tells rather than shows as it repeats points later in the picture. Yet the rapid-fire pacing is continually riveting, calling back to the great political thrillers of yesteryear.

Shim’s direction grows more confident as he expertly delivers genre thrills and moral dilemmas.

Smart and perceptive, The Pod Generation is more than a one-note big-tech satire.

Occasionally clunky pacing aside, the film is a delightful bit of cinematic comfort food.

On Her Shoulders is an essential documentary about an inspiring young woman and allies that still have a lot more work to accomplish.

While putting attractive stars onscreen in lavish locations isn’t new, here’s a film that does it well and isn’t afraid of showcasing authentic, character-driven humor that nowadays almost seems old-fashioned.

Wonderfully lensed by Andrew Hajek and rhythmically edited by Laura Colwell and Vanara Taing, Jazzy is an often whimsical portrait of childhood and tradition that feels loose, playful, and boundless with raw emotions and a sense of hopefulness.

Rodgers has crafted a worthy companion to Chasing Amy, a warm and inclusive film that could not come at a better time.

Despite suffering from a few tropes and a third act that starts to slowly come off the rails as sympathies change, The Guilty is a riveting mystery creating a race against time that includes false leads, family drama, and the search for a van somewhere within a specific cell tower.

Directors Ha and Yi craft a compelling and moving tribute to a man who was by no means a perfect person but nevertheless had a remarkable impact on breaking barriers.

Despite a third act that rushes what could have been a deeply profound conclusion, Clerks III is one for Smith’s loyal fellowship. He returns to the well with a mix of sharp, geeky humor and affecting life lessons—an outing that feels refreshingly old-school.

The Feeling of Being Watched is an illuminating documentary told through an engaging first-person perspective through the eyes of someone who as a kid may have not seen the entire picture – and as an adult is now starting to put it together before our very eyes.

King Cobra is a lurid piece of business that, at times, goes gleefully over the top while lacking the kind of gut punch you might expect in the film’s third act.

A throwback to a kinder, gentler comic sensibility combining the surreal, the whimsical and vaudeville, Lost in Paris successfully delights as two misfits continue to find themselves beholden to the kind of destiny that only graces visitors to the city of lights.

To say Soft & Quiet is designed to get your blood boiling is an understatement—it makes its intentions very clear when a pie for the meeting is unwrapped, revealing a swastika.

The Disappearance of My Mother is a bit too rough around the edges, but it’s as honest as it is persistent.

Capturing the rhythms of life on a rural Humble County, California commune in a changing cultural landscape, Kate McLean and Mario Furloni’s beautifully crafted Freeland is a restrained, nuanced drama centered around a quietly thrilling performance by Krisha Fairchild.

Explicit and spontaneous, Aviva is a film with several brilliant moments that sometimes loses its way in overly indulgent sequences and set pieces as it dares to chronicle nearly every intimate encounter its characters and many of their friends have over the course of about 40 years. While overly ambitious, Yakin imagines the private life your lover had before you with a sociological lens.

Embellishments aside, Flamin’ Hot is like the perfect snack or comfort food: consistent, delivering an experience that pleases because it is so familiar, and a classic Hollywood rags-to-riches story with a heavy dose of Latin flavor.

Although masterfully directed and performed, the film somehow feels a bit unresolved, especially since the family lives in a populated suburb rather than a rural area which would make their desperate actions far easier to conceal.

While Paint It Black isn’t quite as bold and as brilliant as its influences, it is none the less captivating, anchored by two stellar performances and sincere drama that offers a few unexpected twists along the way.

It captures the imagination even if it’s a tad too dry at times.

Carpinteros’ third act, as exhilarating as its build is, seems to abandon the social realism at the core of the picture, falling back on tired and true genre storytelling that feels like a mismatch between the film’s opening sequences.

An impressive debut feature from Felix Thompson, King Jack is a powerful day-in-the-life drama.

Chronicling the complexities and character flaws of the institution, Sex and Broadcasting is thankfully not entirely a promotional video nor a fan’s love letter, but a genuine character study, for the most part.

The film is at its best in moments of warmth, humor, and kindness—that is where it really shines, without needing to amp up the stakes or shift forms.

A Glitch in the Matrix fits well within the canon of Ascher’s pictures, which offer a kind of creepy alternative history of popular culture as interviewees work to identify hidden structures within their lives—including one who insists on organizing time in twelve-day weeks.

While any passage itself could make a compelling short, it’s largely held together by the curiosity of its maker and the tangents of interest to him as a family man of a certain age when friends, family, and those close to us start slowly fading away at a quicker pace.

Perhaps the director’s most no holds barred picture yet, it expresses the anxieties and political division of the Trump era.

It’s a film with an inspiring message that’s often uneven despite the coherence of its message guided by Solomon. As affirming and enlightening as the experience is, it does suffer from the trappings of flying into these characters lives and popping out rather than spending a considerable amount of time in their shoes.

The film’s free-flowing, sometimes experimental structure proves evocative.

Covering the same ground as many fiction and non-fiction works about grieving and action in the wake of tragedy, Park’s picture feels somewhat more nuanced.

Apart from a few minor faults along the way, the film is an often exciting exploration of the world through the eyes of Lily Hevesh, who has put her ten thousand hours in prior to graduating high school and is now living the dream.

The New Radical is one of the more illuminating and scary documentaries of recent memory as it takes the time to make rational and disturbing arguments free from commentary.

An authentic portrait with only a few false notes, Slash ought to be essential viewing for every awkward 15-year-old kid trying to figure themselves out.

What is most fascinating about Walker’s feature is the intoxicating rhythm it concocts while taking certain narrative liberties as both Kris and Naomi, holding a shared history with secrets, find themselves within a certain comfort zone.

The film is an open, honest portrait of personal conflict, contradictions, and suppressed narratives that shed some new light on the student protest movement by bringing the footage—and some of the personal baggage—out of the vault.

South to Black Power is a fascinating example of making the political science documentary personal.

The film celebrates warriors of all species, providing a subtle pro-military message that’s free from the rousing pomp one comes to expect from the genre.

Fast-paced, informative and engaging, Blurred Lines: Inside The Art World takes the kind of material that’s fodder for an episode of the Slate Money podcast and fleshes out its points through multiple authorities showing how the sausage is made.

A delightful first feature with a lot to admire and characters that are a bit more complex than they first appear, there’s a consistent charm to this type of relaxed indie made without much interference.

Boom for Real is an engaging enough oral history from those that were there – directed in a manner that’s perhaps a little too straight forward for just how vibrant the material is.

Plotting and pacing asides, Sylvie’s Love is a rich and graceful picture in passages.

Egg throws a bunch of interesting ideas at the wall, hoping one will stick. Its most profound moments are the genuine ones between Tina and Karen, when the film isn’t trying to shock and provoke with dry satire that occasionally misses the mark.

Duck Butter remains a subversive treat for much of its running time, even when it falls into familiar patterns.

The film progresses predictably with an easy charm even if it’s dragged down by occasionally clunky pacing and sitcom tropes while exploring the complexity and flaws of its characters.

Yesterday, a sweet and well-meaning comedy, is a cautionary tale in taking on such an iconic musical output without adding much new to it.

Give Me Future isn’t just a film for Major Lazer fans; it’s a light, yet illuminating geopolitical documentary that’s rousing while just stopping short of tearing the roof off the theater.

Well-acted by lead James Freedson-Jackson, the film takes its subject matter more seriously than it takes its plot. It’s one of those films that captivates in the moment until it all falls apart.

Despite feeling too familiar, as far as late-summer comedies go, it’s hard to deny War Dogs is entertaining and skillfully crafted, playing fast and loose with the actual story, while remaining politically middle of the road.

The characters are just complex enough and the action is just engrossing enough to keep us interested, but Henry Joost and Ariel Schulman, working from Jeanne Ryan’s novel, haven’t quite built a solid-enough foundation to foster a genuinely compelling commentary on today’s social media obsession.

A stronger character investment up front would have led to a fuller character study as we watch Cathleen walk through the fire.

As far as straightforward crude comedies go, The Brothers Grimsby succeeds at times, even if the confines of narrative cinema restrict just how wild Sacha Baron Cohen can be.

Fans may find it less than comprehensive in the later years of their history following Hello Nasty, but there perhaps is only so much one can do in this forum and the film largely succeeds at encapsulating their camaraderie and spirit.

Anselm at its most effecting shows how cinematic exhibition thoughtfully utilizing 3D can make an intimate encounter with an artist. When it’s less powerful, the experience suggests rushed cliffnotes of a fascinating life.

Language Lessons is often likable thanks to its small cast and improvisational nature which delivers beyond the kind of Zooom table reads that nonprofits were offering as pandemic fundraisers throughout the last year. However, in terms of its cinematic value, it never quite transcends, feeling like a film that’s necessary in the moment without exploring the impact of the pandemic head-on.

The film does fall short of being the rousing comedy it sets out to be, falling into a fairly predictable pattern with a neat resolution and concept that it delicately doesn’t turn on its head.

Run hits familiar beats and is often too guarded, leaving us grasping for a little more than its 78-minute run time can provide.

In the cinematic wasteland of January, Dirty Grandpa is a minor bright spot: perverse and subversive, if not somewhat predictable

Framing John DeLorean suffers from functioning as two potentially entertaining films in one, fighting it out on screen.

Like Cage, it’s a curious creation, one that never quite matches the ambitions of the man of the hour, but does allow him to poke fun at himself and treat fans to something cathartically silly.

The craft is quite admirable, while the elements feel a bit recycled.

While there’s a lot to admire and some big laughs courtesy of Deutch, the film will wear down audiences a bit, feeling both redundant and, as many romantic comedies do, ultimately predictable.

While it aims to generate outrage it does so rather quietly (unlike the recent blunt satirical work of Adam McKay) with a predictable outcome as all rigged games do. The process of getting to that point feels terribly uneven; at times a bit over the top in passages and yet restrained in others as certain transactions are treated as just the cost of doing business in The War on Terror.