John Fink

While bound to spark hundreds of think pieces, Alex Garland’s stirring Civil War will undoubtedly go down, too, as one of the most provocative films of the year. It’s also an early contender for one of the best, offering a stunning warning: no matter what the cause, war is hell.

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

A tour de force of documentary filmmaking, Minding the Gap is a lively, often beautifully shot film about a pit of hopelessness–from dead-end jobs to drunken arguments to bad decisions. This is modern day John Cassavetes with tattoos and punk music.

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.

Delightful at times and always insightful, In Transit contains a range of emotions and characters rarely seen, even in the best of narrative cinema.

While the show that ends the film might overstay its welcome a bit, Ghostlight is a profound work about a tough family made tougher by unimaginable grief.

The latest in a series of work about the cost of the refugee crisis and human migration, For Sama is a harrowing experience and certainly one of the most essential films of the year.

Lovesong is a rare film of mature, emotional complexity anchored by two remarkable and beautiful performances.

Relaxer is a hard film to “like,” full of commentary and situations that push the bounds of good taste and camp but it’s one of Potrykus’ best pictures; watchable, hilarious, uncompromising, and even thrilling in its final moments–if you have the stomach and patience for it.

Bujalski as a filmmaker has created a film as fascinating as anything in his previous output

Led by a powerful and quietly resilient performance by Linda, Afterimage may not contain everything Wajda has said or wish to have said, however it is a moving tribute to a career marred by personal and national trauma, and one of the year’s best pictures.

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

499 is often as riveting as it is stunning to consume: a spiritual journey punctuated with inhumane acts of violence intertwined with a certain national identity. Reyes offers an ambitious and unflinching portrait of contemporary Mexico that provides a vague answer regarding the endgame of the violence in the country.

Writer-director Jordan Peele has smartly created a horror comedy that doesn’t feel like a series of sketches from his show: the whole thing is a single, coherent episode and individual scenes are masterfully and subtly crafted with tonal shifts that work well.

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

While the narrative may seem to some frustratingly sparse, The Killing of Two Lovers represents a leap forward for Machoian who somewhat scales up, creating a hauntingly personal portrait of a couple at a crossroads struggling in more ways that one to get by.

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.

The Up series feels like the last of its kind and should be treasured as such.

Pet Names gets the emotional beats right even if it has a lot in common with lessor relationship dramas with lower stakes.

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.

Is That Black Enough For You?!? proves a warm, wise, personal celebration of raw creative energy.

While The Reason I Jump is a profound and moving experience, one that isn’t easy to forget, it’s most effective when operating as an experimental work, taking a unique and lyrical approach to a subject that has often focused on the relationships and social struggles its subjects feel.

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.

Documenting the socializing of gang members, Check It is a fascinating and comprehensive ethnographic portrait of inner-city youth that may inspire conversation and action without offering easy answers or artificial sentiments.

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.

The film may be Linklater’s warmest and most nostalgic precisely because of its specifics.

Vulcanizadora is a step forward sans compromise––often hilarious, contemplative, even cautionary.

Carney has offered a sharp, hopeful crowdpleaser that strikes the right notes.

Ambitious, accessible, and comprehensive, Kim’s film is a thoroughly entertaining introduction to Paik, filled with the same joy and curiosity as his work.

Life, Animated, like Owen, is optimistic and should provide a measure of comfort for the many families affected by a complex disorder – such stories are essential to share.

It’s rare to see a film that captures a disappearing community with such immediacy, remorse, and, yes, occasional joy.

Like caring for someone at the end of their lives, Last Flight Home might not be the easiest film to experience, but it is an accurate representation of the ups, downs, and mixed emotions of those times, crafted with compassion, nuance, and great warmth.

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

Chronicling Bland’s own Facebook activism along with an examination of the mysterious circumstances of her death, the film is part legal procedural, police mystery, and an exploration of the kind of racism that led to her arrest in the first place.

Brief, personal, insightful, and well-crafted, Vision Portraits is a giving look at the process of expanded creativity by four fascinating artists.

Virtually free from quirk and black humor, the film is an effective, nasty thriller and a rare horror film that provides an emotional investment because the portrait of teenhood is utterly authentic.

She Dies Tomorrow is a bizarre and textured work of cinematic poetry, playing like a menacing death march into the unknown.

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

Seeds is a film that lives and breathes as we absorb the wisdom of these elders.

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.

Robot Dreams is one of the best films of the year, animated or otherwise.

Night School is a triumphant and affecting film that explores the issue of inequality beyond the usual political, paternal talking points.

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.

It offers no easy answers while spinning an evocative web of ideas, treating the mineral and all that follows as a religion complete with sacrifices.

Under The Shadow is a rare genre film of emotional and political complexity, one that’s well-acted and directed, even if the psychological horror is front and center.

Despite a few missteps including its ambiguous treatment of female comrades in the film’s first two acts––including Hampton’s all-too-brief courtship with Debrah Johnson (played by Dominique Fishback)––Judas and the Black Messiah is mostly an uncompromising and riveting character study exploring power and oppression.

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.

It’s a film that gleefully, hilariously subverts expectations at every corner, borrowing à la music videos from pop culture, experimental film, and any corner of the universe it finds inspiration in.

The geopolitical stakes are immense and Navalny is essential viewing, especially for any Western audience that may have not been following this story so closely.

Raise Hell: The Life & Times of Molly Ivins is a funny portrait of a quick-witted satirist who called it as it was, unafraid to be a little mean to the narcissists who were just glad to see their name in print.

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.

The Fits is a haunting psychological and philosophical portrait of childhood and socialization. Largely succeeding, the picture takes on a subject no less than the discovery of self: both the imagined and the real.

Where the sprawling, knotty, and thoroughly captivating Soundtrack to a Coup d’État sheds new light is in its form, exploring a global conspiracy playing out often right in view.

While the film may embrace a low-budget, drab-naturalistic aesthetic, it’s far from dull. Duplass, Strassner, and Larsen brilliantly execute one of the year’s finest romantic comedies.

Women Who Kill is a smart comedy about the fear of finding oneself vulnerable.

Below Her Mouth is sexy and captivating, telling a familiar story with a fresh sexual frankness.

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.

Featuring a great premise from which to build a franchise, YouTube creators Danny and Michael Philippou’s directorial debut Talk To Me is a refreshing retread, imagining tantalizing “micro-possessions” that get stronger the more you use them.

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

Mixing talking heads and on-the-ground footage, National Bird is a vital film about the true cost of war, well-reported by Kennebeck.

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

Step is a universal story of triumph.

It demystifies an important part of movie magic with a diverse group of veterans of the craft, many who got their start as an apprentice for the best in the industry.

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

Keep Quiet is as fascinating as it is powerful.

There is a giant world out there, and Maltz’s first narrative feature is a rich and moving ode of the people we encounter along the way, as well as the roads not taken.

While not breaking new narrative ground, it’s a confidently-directed picture, even surprisingly ambitious in later passages. It’s all carried by a stunning performance by Mary Kay Place, whose emotional journey is as profound as it is ambiguous as she remains steadfast in her ways despite coming full circle.

When She Runs is a film that’s beautifully restrained.

While a cynic could dismiss the film as branded content for Apricot Lane Farms, the film isn’t making a sales pitch for their products. Rather, it’s a captivating personal journey with a concern for harmony and a gentle sense of humor.

[A] hilarious and occasionally moving portrait of Jim Carrey’s time making Milos Forman’s 1999 Andy Kaufman biopic Man on The Moon.

One of Penny Lane’s best pictures, Nuts! is quite a brilliant way to tell a peculiar story. Condensing a lot of material into a brief running time, this format allows certain liberties to be taken, particularly when imagined conversations appear.

Tower offers a chilling, first-hand account of those tremendously haunting days that live in infamy within our collective conscious: days that begin like any other until the unimaginable occurs.

Cherien Dabis’ All That’s Left of You considers generational trauma on both an intimate and epic scale.

The documentary combines first-rate storytelling and citizen journalism, providing a harrowing, ground-up look at those that are often denied agency or dismissed as troublemakers to be tear-gassed.

The film’s structure allows us to spend time both together and individually with each character, veering off with them for a day at the office, school, dance club, or park. It is simultaneously a slice of life and a film about the bigger picture.

What we do have is a vital and horrifying record of a crisis that we should have quickly learned from, that captures the moment with the immediacy of Facebook Live or Snapchat, while its subjects provide context months removed from the events of January and February 2021.

Striking a sweet, often humous tone, Arlyck navigates aging gracefully with a keen awareness of how parent-child relationships morph as time proceeds.

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.

Despite a few over the top moments, Pig Hag is a nuanced and mature although not restrained portrait of someone who we all have met. This film sheds some light not only on swipe-dating culture but also the kind of people that are typically around the time Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’ is playing and the house lights come on.

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.

The Greatest Hits might not inspire thoughtful essays, as a cinematic pop album it satisfies with a few somber notes, some lesser tracks, and a few terrific moments where it all just works.

Fearless writer-director-actress Marianna Palka has crafted an bold, dark domestic comedy with Bitch.

A surprisingly fun comedy.

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.

The film’s charms exist in the performative elements contextualized amongst the film’s interviewees.

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.

I Am Not a Witch is as fresh as it is provocative despite a few false notes along the way, especially in the film’s third act.

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.

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

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

The film is wholly original taking on issues of the day from parental rights to mental illness and later, the opioid crisis. But while there is plenty of depth here, Thunder Road feels a little too much like it has been cobbled together from sketches and ideas for a one-man show.

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.

While not breaking any new ground in the genre, American Satan is a stylish psychedelic thrill in the mold of a zany comedy that grows dark, quickly.

A documentary that is “authorized” by his estate––which perhaps gives mother Bernard a platform to right his wrongs––the picture smartly never takes the middle ground, but rather provides a kaleidoscopic portrait informed by those that knew him well—family, business partners, mentors, contemporaries.

A tribute to a humble and fascinating man, Richard Linklater: Dream is Destiny offers some unique insight — though for followers of Linklater’s career from his first feature It’s Impossible to Learn to Plow by Reading Books, the film may offer very little new window into the man.

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.”

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.

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.