John Fink

Corben finds humor in the absurdity; what might not be so apparent while you’re laughing your ass off is just how well-made and -researched a tale this is.

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.

Author: The JT LeRoy Story is wildly entertaining and truly stranger than fiction.

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.

Unfortunately, the gleefully absurd ingenuity of Geostorm stops at its title.

A funny, often fascinating riff on aspirations both in and out of reach, I Love Boosters is ambitious and, like Sorry to Bother You, explores the systems that make the American Dream possible for only a select few. But the film is also a gleeful celebration of the underdogs scraping by as the cost of living increases.

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

Writer/director Dash Shaw’s hand-drawn picture is fun and slight without overstaying its welcome. It never runs out of energy and is constantly in a state of innovation and surprise.

All My Life recalls the formula employed by Hallmark Originals, which have predictable beats, lack nuance, and are a kind of cinematic comfort food––this is the cinematic equivalent of drinking your Carmel Frap while crying your eyes out to the new Hasley album.

In trying to capture the current state of the exhibition industry, there’s simply too much left unsaid, either for legal reasons or editorial choices.

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.

It’s a film full of highs and lows, sorrow and recollection, fun and political ideology–a mess, but one that feels authentic and accurate.

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

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.

Intimate without being obtrusive, RBG doesn’t exactly demystify the Supreme Court so much as it brings us closer to one of its greats.

Imperfect, but delightful for much of its journey, Come As You Are packages an important human rights message in a comedy for the bros.

Similar to Obvious Child, the film avoids over the top tropes and shock value with refreshing sincerity. This is the kind of sex-positive coming of age comedy that smart, curious teens truly deserve.

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.

With its predicable beats, one wishes this drama doubled down on the alarming effects of eating disorders. The film doesn’t make light of them, but it also doesn’t shed much new light on the process of recovery.

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.

The mood created by Basir, who also photographed To Live and Die and Live, is far more interesting than any over-the-top, formulaic family drama the film boxes itself into.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

For horror fans particularly dedicated to this franchise, the character development might not matter as much as the horror sequences, which are extraordinarily well-executed, drawing upon the art deco aesthetic of an aging building filled with secondhand vintage furniture and random found objects.

Paul Andrew Williams’ Dragonfly largely succeeds because it never quite telegraphs where it’s going until its third act.

Alone Together has something rather profound to say, it’s just a shame that it never does so in a truly coherent way.

By focusing on his freshest, earliest, and perhaps most exciting work, we learn an awful lot about what is to come, making this an engaging study for both the unfamiliar and devoted students of Nichols’ work.

Blockers doesn’t pull off the impossible so much as it turns the tables on a common formula, finding something fresh, empowering, and hilarious in that time-old story of a group of friends making a pact to lose their V-card on prom night.

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

Perkins’ approach, however, could be read more as an exercise in media study than biopic of Diana. It adds to the canon but not the lure of the mythical “People’s Princess.”

House Party is fun enough but feels like a missed opportunity.

Patriots Day may, in fact, embrace the spirit of the days following the bombing, but the scattered framing leaves one wanting more.

The Sentence is a powerful film full of rich, raw emotions as all parties explore their vulnerabilities.

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.

Do Not Resist attempts to present a fair inquiry of police’s use of force. The issue itself is fraught with conflict and, unfortunately, the interest of immediacy of the conversation seems to trump thorough journalism.

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.

This isn’t quite a nuanced study in violence, despite its title. Shot in northern rural Ontario, Canada in a generic backwoods called White Pines, the film ultimately feels hollow despite the deliberate cinematography by Pierce Derks.

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.

Far from a didactic faith-based picture pandering to church groups, Abundant Acreage Available is a simple, yet evocative character study with no easy answer, and it has stayed with me longer than most pictures.

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.

Knappenberger crafts a compelling and infuriating tale of big money flouting freedom of speech in an era where freedom of speech (thanks in part to social media) has become more democratized and, perhaps, more dangerous than ever.

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.

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.

Anonymous Club’s power is in its meditative nature, reflecting on the intersection of celebrity and creativity.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

There are certain moments in Long Shot where I thought I might have been watching a new comedy classic. Unfortunately, Jonathan Levine’s rom-com slightly overstays its welcome with a predictably clunky third act that could have lost a few minutes.

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.

The foundation for a terrific, informative and bone-chilling documentary about where we currently are is here, but the problem is that we’re still very much in the middle of this story.

The Workers Cup is a bittersweet portrait of the labor that built the glimmering towers, stadiums, and luxury malls: spaces these men are not permitted to be seen in public areas of.

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.

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.

The film is a compassionate portrait of a young man finding his place in several communities with a rigorous support system of mentors and family members in place. I just wish writer-director Khan would have given us a little more time with the rich ensemble around him.

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.

What initially starts as a light-hearted look at YouTube star David Dobrik and his “Vlog Squad” evolves into a portrait that doesn’t quite know what to make of him and his enablers.

Like the Church potluck to which Amziah King introduces his one-time foster daughter Kateri, The Rivals of Amziah King is a gleeful mashup of genres and tones blending bluegrass music, comedy, revenge, and heist-thriller elements into a tasty homestyle buffet full of eccentric characters and thick Southern accents.

I admire the tenacity and fearlessness of Wood to take on these issues head-on. In a playground of stripped-down indies of rough edges, encouraging sparse narratives, understatement and minimalism, Elizabeth Wood has made a film that feels fresh even if it offers little introspection and commentary on the fire that it plays with. And thus is the flaw of White Girl.

Here is the rare kind of often sweet college comedy with good-natured laughs that captures a side of the process rarely seen in frat comedies: the divide between those in the service industry and those that have the luxury to party eight days a week.

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

Vengeance is a refreshing, self-aware take on a man who sets out to define a societal problem and is met with evolving redefinition.

The film is built on a wonderfully nuanced performance by Kier, who behind his sadness and longing can still lob a sassy witticism at rival Dee Dee Dale, and when they finally confront each other over discontinued hair spray, it’s pure joy to watch.

When the film works it veers into the domain of the uncomfortably hilarious as the maladjusted becomes a malcontent without a choice.

The joy of Ferrara’s The Projectionist is simply in getting to know its subject.

Perhaps The Black Phone should have pushed its premise a bit more, building real stakes and real thrills in a deeper analysis of its archetypes. If performances by Thames, McGraw, and Hawke are strong, there could stand to be a few more twists and a bit more character development to transcend what is a middle-of-the-road psychological thriller.

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.

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.

Fast Color, like A Wrinkle in Time, provides an empowering message without much to latch on to. Hart, who impressed with her debut drama Miss Stevens, offers a banal, tired narrative, despite strong performances and occasionally beautiful visuals.

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.

As far as dumb comedies go, Pizza Movie is a masterclass in throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks. It doesn’t always land, but when it does, it really does.

XX plays with and pushes back against certain tropes at its very best, yet never truly breaks much new ground.

There are clearly-defined targets, to be sure, but Babysitter struggles to make the point that perhaps we’re all human. It’s somewhat cringe-inducing by design, but the satire and humor feel dated.

A surprisingly fun comedy.

Having two terrific stars front and center isn’t nearly enough when they’re only given permission to run wild in this small of a playground.

Inspired by objectification, By Design, by design, tests the patience of viewers via Kramer’s precise direction and controlled mise-en-scène, designed by Grace Surnow and photographed by Patrick Meade Jones––unfortunately, the challenge never feels rewarding. Perhaps that’s the point: aspirational luxury sells the sizzle, not the steak.

Sadie is a grim and moving character study grounded by exceptional performances.

The film problematically never quite commits to being one thing: bouncing around the investigation, being work of advocacy, and a study of family violence. In doing so, it lacks the kind of emotional impact and outrage it ought to have.

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.

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.”

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

Demystifying the backroom deals of film financing, Bateman has crafted an authentic-looking and -feeling commentary on show business designed perhaps to make the kinds of acquisition professionals and insiders who attend festivals and film markets uncomfortable.

This is much more than an ethnic family drama that aspires to have “cross-over universal” appeal, even as it generates such by throwing too many elements together alongside three unique, compelling stories.

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

Krauss packs a lot into what could be read as a prequel for his documentary, creating a brutal war on terror picture with a timely context.

Despite some endearing passages, Gene Stupnitsky’s uninspired crude tween comedy Good Boys is a cringe-inducing affair.

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.

Isn’t It Romantic misses several opportunities to find humor in its absurdity with low stakes, too little of a comic payoff, and only a few cursory observations about gender roles and norms in these universes.

The jokes simply don’t land as hard as they should, even though the cast has a genuinely interesting shorthand with each other.

It’s frustrating when a film provides us with an original character and an engaging first act while following so predictably in the shoes of other home invasion and defense thrillers.

Pretty Problems explores several interesting themes but never quite knows what to make of Jack and Lindsay, their new friends, or the help that enables them. It feels conceived from within its own bubble, where money can in fact buy you almost anything you want except for a sense of fulfillment if you don’t know exactly what’s desired.

The arc of the story feels a bit rushed as it darts between past and present, focused around a journey that is incomplete. Perhaps with a few more weeks or even another year, Berns’ story might have grown into something slightly more compelling as he transition into his new role as a grandfather and provider on a dwindling income.

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.

I Love My Dad is as funny as it is mortifying, with Oswalt as a kind of sociopathic Cyrano de Bergerac justifying his behavior in the name of becoming closer to his son.