John Fink

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.