John Fink

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.