Johnny Oleksinski

Cary Joji Fukunaga was the right choice to direct “No Time To Die,” even if he wasn’t the first in this rocky road of a production. His Bond feels reverential and classic, but not campy, and he makes bold choices.

What’s so unsettling about his Longlegs is, as big and cartoonish as he is, the weirdo is just believable enough. You could run into him late at night at a highway rest stop or, God forbid, on an empty subway platform. Cage makes a meal out of the murderer...During this so-so summer at the movies, something’s finally got legs.

Can You Ever Forgive Me?, based on Israel’s 2008 tell-all memoir, has a lot of laughs and a delicious setup, but it hits hardest as a drama about human desperation and survival.

Wrath of Man isn’t as blatantly funny as “The Gentlemen” is, though it has its laughs, but it is taut and exhilarating without a single wasted moment.

Skarsgård’s the ace though. Without going overboard, and never being anything less than terrifying, he fleshes out Orlok into a richer character than bat-like Schreck was able to. His tragic, albeit disturbing, final scene almost puts a stake right through our hearts.

CODA is part of that fizzling genre of film, popular in the ’90s, in which you’re almost always on the verge of sobbing while watching it.

The movie is hysterical, and at just under 90 minutes, the gag never wears thin.

Bones and All is a surprisingly effective and affecting cannibal love story.

Cold Pursuit is stark and refreshing, like taking an icy swim with the Polar Bear Club. A jolt. The movie makes you want him to stay around for a while longer.

A jalapeño popper of a movie — fast, filling and punchy — and a likable throwback to the films of M. Night Shyamalan. The good ones, anyway.

I was surprised to find “Cameron Post” a sweet indie film in the tradition of John Hughes. Calmly directed by Desiree Akhavan, the movie doesn’t get tangled in the weeds of politics, but instead focuses intensely on its lovely characters.

The blend of coming-of-age and coming-together in director Fernando Grostein Andrade’s film is a poignant one, regardless. The lessons Abe learns about life through Chico and his inventive cooking are made all the more beautiful by how tasty and colorful the food looks. And with Schnapp’s work in the title role, I found myself believing that a 12-year-old Brooklyn boy just might be able to solve the world’s thorniest conflict with an appetizer.

[Reitman] finds the perfect tone here . . . He’s also skilled at getting genuine performance out of young actors, as he proved in “Juno,” and balancing humor with stakes — essential for comedy-horror like “Ghostbusters.” The jokes are very funny and Wolfhard and Grace make life-threatening peril look like a ball.

Vitally, though, the director gets a terrific performance from Jerome, which prevents “Unstoppable” from falling into the traps so many athletic yarns do.

Seven movies and 26 years on, Ethan Hunt’s mission is more satisfying than ever.

The fight scenes are remarkably exhilarating and spontaneous for being, well, animated. And all of the jokes — written by Rowe, Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg, among others — are truly very funny and witty while still making sense for this vision of the five boroughs. They’re spoken by a genuine, young cast, who sound like they’re having a party after school instead of the usual stiff, one-day-in-the-studio delivery.

While I needle “Conclave” for being far from realistic, its meticulous detail is evidenced immediately by the ceremonial removal of the papal ring from the corpse and the sealing of his apartment. Visually, the entire film’s a stunner.

Perhaps the sharpest casting is J.K. Simmons as a gruff wedding guest named Roy, who got trapped in the time-loop earlier after a misguided cocaine binge with Nyles. He pops up occasionally to hunt Nyles with a bow and arrow or a shotgun to seek revenge. You will cherish the 65-year-old Oscar winner’s interpretation of being high on coke.

It’s the darkest, scariest and undoubtedly finest acted of the entire detective series.

It’s fresh, it’s alive, it’s not the same old Marvel Cinematic Universe.

The rom-com ain’t dead yet. Crazy Rich Asians is a defibrillator for a genre that flatlined ages ago. This heartwarming, well-acted — and decadent — film takes you back to the greatest hits of Nancy Meyers, Richard Curtis and Nora Ephron.

I enjoyed this ride of titillation, torment, insanity and exploitation to such a preposterous extent that I’ve considered signing up for online therapy to wrestle with it.

While Bigbug is characteristically eccentric, it also has the most mainstream appeal of any Jeunet film since “Amélie.”

The movie is a bit long, and the culmination overstays its welcome. That is the only section of the movie where the viewer is a step ahead — and therefore it doesn’t sizzle like what came before. Yet the visual splendor of the sequence also proves the director has a flair for the epic we didn’t know about before. And that makes me all the more excited for the next “Untitled Jordan Peele Project.

Is “F1” too long? Absolutely. But not once did I say, “Are we there yet?”

Summer blockbusters don’t get much better.

I’ve always had my reservations about Sorkin as a director. His scripts tend to be better than his final products. Those druthers started to fade with the moving “Trial of the Chicago 7” and are now completely gone after “Being the Ricardos.” His vision of ‘50s TV production is spot-on — nostalgic, quick, boozy, but without the glamor of Hollywood movie-making.

Soul amounts to more than technical wizardry and intelligent dialogue. Why artists keep pounding the pavement despite never finding commercial success is a meaty topic.

Any plot greasing is quickly forgivable because of how damn delightful it is to be riding in the back of Squibb’s scooter. That this is the actress’ first leading role in a decades-long career is the greatest crime of all.

As for Broadway buffs and lovers of old New York, the witty, hilarious and haunting movie starring a totally transformed Ethan Hawke as musical-theater lyricist Lorenz Hart will have them utterly bewitched.

If you didn’t know Kirby before this film, get used to hearing her name a lot. She’ll be nominated for every major acting award this year.

With this visionary director — one of Hollywood’s best — it’s one winner after another.

Coppola’s movie is packed with many similarly smart, but never egotistical storytelling decisions and is easily one of the finest films of her career.

Director Shawn Levy’s laugh-a-second movie is easily the best Marvel has delivered since 2021’s “Spider-Man: No Way Home,” and provides similarly nostalgic pleasures in its whiplash-inducing number of retro cameos — none of which I’ll spoil, for fear of my own life.

The director (whose “The Assistant” was solid, but this is far better) has built a gripping thriller around the sort of off-hand remarks, boozy outbursts and inappropriate behavior that most bartenders and reasonable patrons encounter all the time. Everywhere.

You’ll begin “Twinless” with basic expectations, and you’ll end it with your mouth agape. And then you’ll ask the most satisfying question there is after first encountering an exciting young filmmaker’s work: When’s the next one?

Oh, the movie is brilliant without a doubt, but it’s dotted with such shocking moments, and there isn’t a whiff of pretentiousness to be found. Only guts and incredible visuals.

And now, your love-it-or-loathe-it movie of 2020.

This is a sexy, funny, ravishing and dark revision that keeps Heathcliff’s frightening obsessiveness, emotional toxicity and sadism intact while ably contorting the tale into a decadent, modern, yet still distinctly gothic, romance.

The movie proves a New York teen superhero can do more than just excitedly swing around. He can move us, too. It’s the best stand-alone film to feature the iconic character so far. And it’s animated.

The entire cast is wickedly good, and their overblown characters are what keep the Dickens spirit alive.

Jackman’s turn doesn’t have an Oscars wow quality; nor does the movie itself. The script’s zingers can occasionally come off as store-brand “West Wing.” But it’s a fun, endlessly fascinating watch in which the big questions outweigh the tiny problem.

Directed by Michael Showalter without too much sentimentality or cheese, the guilty-pleasure rom-com (emphasis on rom) is elevated by Hathaway’s layered performance as a swept-off-her-feet California mother that goes well beyond the confines of its supermarket pulp storyline.

Whenever there’s a lull here, a big laugh soon comes along with the force of a boa constrictor that conceals the flaws.

Since the characters barely get a chance to catch their breath, let alone say their piece, we don’t learn much about them beyond familiar traits. However, Reitman’s aim isn’t to seriously illuminate that fateful night so much as to energetically add to showbiz mythology.

Vivo is a heartfelt piece with catchy songs and a much more cohesive plot than Miranda’s Moana, which gets tangled midway through. Sure it could do with a touch more depth, but in the kids movie genre, you could do a lot worse.

It’s my favorite Cage performance in some time, after overly bizarre turns in recent years as a murderous parent in Mom and Dad and an inmate on a mission in the Japanese film Prisoners of the Ghostland. When he goes back to basics, it’s as rich and juicy as a delicious ham steak.

It’s a canny blend of “Degrassi” and John Hughes, but here the kids mostly behave like angels. Love, Simon is the rare, feel-good gay movie.

We learn very few specific details about this somewhat monotonous guy, and yet that vagueness makes him and his quest more relatable.

Honor Among Thieves is a useful reminder of something that’s been forgotten in the age of dense film universes and ultra-violent action films: Light-hearted adventure movies like “The Princess Bride” remain the perfect vehicle for humor, romance, fights and special effects. When done properly, as Dungeons & Dragons is, they give audiences a full-bodied experience that’s hard not to like.

The film, directed by Chloé Zhao, is an awards-season favorite, and it doesn’t let you forget that for a second. Beneath the veneer of prestige, however, is a prescient and affecting story of a lost American class: van dwellers.

Decent movie, same old Borat.

Another reason to embrace “Purple” is that the moving film is graced by a duo of exceptional performers in Barrino and Danielle Brooks as Sofia who, while singing, capture the electricity of being live onstage, and, while acting, take advantage of the raw intimacy of a close-up. Getting that combo right in movie musicals is rarer than you’d think.

The film, admittedly, does not rev up as fast as a Ferrari. The director initially prefers a relaxed pace and almost sepia color scheme that make us unsure, sometimes in frustration, of what the vibe of the story is supposed to be.

It’s as sprawling and pulse-pounding a fight as you’re hoping it will be.

Grindelwald gives us a proper villain and a purpose for this series of — gulp — five eventual movies.

Premature doesn’t break much new ground. But it sure breaks hearts.

Not so good is Lily-Rose Depp as French princess Catherine. Say what you will about francophile Johnny Depp — he’s never boring. But his daughter, with her vacant expression, lacks a certain je ne sais quoi.

The movie succeeds thanks to director Damien Chazelle’s superb visuals, which land somewhere between the quiet indie look of his previous flick, “La La Land,” and the epic sweep of “Apollo 13.” Space has never looked so sexy, or felt so claustrophobic.

It’s the ensemble that wows most, though. Faist makes an unusually spindly Riff, yet he is scarier than any I’ve seen. Bernardo, the best role in the show, is given real intensity by David Alvarez and Ariana DeBose dances the dickens out of “America” as Anita.

Although director J.J. Abrams tries his darndest to finish the job, conjuring up nostalgia like a TV medium, “Rise” doesn’t feel like the last chapter of the biggest American movie franchise. It’s just another well-made “Star Wars” flick.

It really all comes down to the Bellas. With brilliant actresses like Wilson, who has a badass fight scene this time, and Kendrick, the stealthily vicious pixie, the studio could drop this cast in a DMV with a pitch pipe and they would make a decent movie out of it — a movie that I would pay to see.

Is it an essential continuation of the story of Russell Crowe’s fallen fighter Maximus? Eh, not really. A likable diversion, the film is not as epic or weighty as its acclaimed predecessor.

Luce is a taut, extremely watchable movie, though the dialogue could loosen up a touch.

Raya doesn’t have any coming-of-age experiences, she doesn’t sing, she’s not trying to please her father, there’s no romance subplot, nobody helps her get dressed. What there are are crossbows and swords. And on that front, it is a success. The battles and missions in each separate place are visually exciting.

This freaky fairy-tale world is really a playground for Stone, whose willingness to be foolish and risky is a breath of fresh air amid all the polite Oscar-bait turns we’re handed this time of year.

Harp’s mix of old-school masculinity, love of animals and innate paternal instincts suits Elba perfectly. And unlike Nomadland, which also brought together real citizens with a Hollywood star (Frances McDormand), Elba fits easily and naturally into this group and their environment. It’s like a rider meeting the perfect horse.

In Hot Summer Nights, Chalamet proves he’s learned Hollywood’s most important trick of all: consistency. His performance here is every bit as good as those past credits — more so, in some respects, thanks to his comedic chops — even if the film’s prestige is dampened by, well, tons of pot, cocaine and gnarly murders.

For the most part, however, “Deliver Me From Nowhere” is in conversation with where Springsteen’s mind and passions rest today, as evidenced by his memoir “Born to Run” and his introspective Broadway show — revisiting the mansion on the hill and returning to his father’s house.

Sandler, like him or not, is a master at bringing ‘90s heart and sentiment to his dumb schtick, and he’s disarmingly quiet and warm here. And his best jokes have nothing to do with Halloween.

Some heightened plot lines in writer-director Jared Frieder’s film don’t land as well as the tender moments do. The romance is admirably never overplayed for sentiment.

Cool though the skirmishes are, director Gina Prince-Bythewood’s film could use some more visual panache, given the unique historical backgrounds of her characters. The look, by and large, is rudimentary action flick. Still, it’s good fun and has more than a few winning one-liners.

There is enough detail and psychological nuance in Mattson Tomlin’s clever script to make Project Power more intriguing than most of what Marvel and DC have to offer, even if it could barely match their catering budgets.

Director Daniel Chong’s original movie is terribly funny, and often in an unfamiliar, warped way for the cerebral and mushy studio.

The franchise’s greatest transformation yet: He’s made a pretty good movie.

If the sequel is a notch less than its astounding predecessor, that’s because — like Adonis Creed does during moments of doubt — the filmmakers are overcomplicating things.

The second “Chicken Run” grabs you by the giblets anyway, thanks to its terrific returning voice cast of big-personality Brits, such as bubbly Jane Horrocks and Imelda Staunton (who, in the 23 intervening years, has gone from the coop to Buckingham Palace), and earnestly funny writing. Netflix, to its credit, has not laid an egg.

Bad Hair is about 10 minutes too long. You don’t salivate over Anna’s home life as much as you do her office from hell, and a few of those scenes could have been trimmed. Nonetheless, it’s nice to see horror let its hair down again.

The climactic scene, in both story concept and design, is too complicated and peculiar for my tastes. But until that short blip, co-directors Phil Johnston and Rich Moore’s (“Zootopia”) film is supremely intelligent, and Reilly and Silverman once again give deep-feeling vocal performances.

Throughout, Dirisu and Mosaku enliven a fascinating character study.

Chappaquiddick is far from a love letter to the famous family. It paints them as a hollow dynasty of pretty faces hiding behind a powerful name, while real men of intellect and influence puppeteer their every move. Camelot, it’s not. And, as this terrific movie suggests, the American people fall for their polished BS every time.

You’d be hard-pressed not to enjoy the jolly jaunt. Clumsy Paddington, as always, makes an adorable mess of things.

If you’re a Fab Four fan like I am, that setup itself sends you into an existential tizzy. But it makes for a likable, quirky movie that’s British writer Richard Curtis’ (“Bridget Jones’ Diary”) best work in years.

The movie is one of the better pieces of family entertainment released so far this year.

The newest “Dragon” adventure, once again written and directed by Dean DeBlois, achieves real visual artistry.

Thanks largely to the feisty Deutch, Buffaloed is a fun time, even if it’s about everybody’s least-favorite kind of phone call.

How unfortunate that we have two Ant-Man films and soon will have a pair of Doctor Strange flicks, but in all likelihood just a single Black Widow — a much deeper, more fascinating, more exciting character than either of those two duds, sorry, dudes.

The Death Cure doesn’t work on every level. The movie has, for the most part, jettisoned many of the story’s previous science fiction elements to focus more on action. In so doing, it relies on a lot of repeat devices to earn its thrills — namely perfectly-timed, life-saving rescues, often from the sky. Sometimes, you just want to hear some scientists talk shop for a minute.

It’s an impressively realistic touch from a studio that’s neither Disney nor DreamWorks.

There is a strong emotional connection to Victor Hugo’s giant novel, which has been turned into a Broadway musical, movies and TV shows. This version remains a tale of downtrodden Parisians and dogged policemen who hound them. Only now we get 21st-century twists: teens with drone cameras, members of the Muslim Brotherhood and a Romani circus.

1994 plays more like television than a theatrical film. The more limited scope isn’t bothersome, though, because you can only watch it on your TV, after all, and two more films/episodes are soon on the way.

Massoud and Scott make a live-action “Aladdin” succeed on a different level than a cartoon can — as a teary romance. “A Whole New World” is more moving than the original.

Familiar though it is, the skillfully made movie finds vigor in the been-there-done-that.

The evidence adds up cleverly and the script doesn’t coast on its status as a nice family movie in order to avoid delivering a satisfying conclusion. It’s meaty, like a roast leg of, well, you know.

A purely entertaining, scary flick will infuriate the culturati who like their movies like they like their Atlantic articles: long and academic. However, despite some issues, this Janelle Monáe film is a breathless watch.

Kaling’s script addresses issues such as sexism in the #MeToo era, ageism and racial prejudice in her disarmingly light and sneaky way.

A solidly entertaining if predictable time-travel film that boasts something most DC movies sorely lack: a strong lead performance.