Johnny Oleksinski

It’s cinematic Mountain Dew. You’ll be wired for the entire 2½ hours.

Coco is packed with terrific original tunes such as “Remember Me” (by Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez of “Frozen”) and “Proud Corazón” (co-written by Adrian Molina, the film’s co-director). But it’s not your average musical, in which characters wail their wants and feelings. That’s a refreshing change.

It’s a breathtakingly human film — about a bird and a bot.

As he did so ingeniously with “Pan’s Labyrinth” and the Spanish Civil War, del Toro explores fantasy, myth and childhood in a time of oppressive fascism; the specks of light that escape the darkness.

The final shot of Apatow’s movie is the iconic Staten Island Ferry, bringing to mind “Working Girl,” “Manhattan” and countless other New York City classics. The King of Staten Island joins that list.

Director Christopher Nolan’s seismic Oppenheimer is that rarest of things: a sophisticated and bracing movie that’s made for adults and makes nobody say, “I’ll wait till it’s on streaming.”

The tale is so bizarre that it’s sometimes comical, and often disturbing. The unrelentingly intense BlacKkKlansman can be very hard to watch.

The script by Matt Lieberman and Zak Penn is hysterical, but director Shawn Levy must’ve sold his soul to the devil to secure this cast.

It’s one of the funniest movies of the year.

It was always going to be an emotional experience watching the late Philip Seymour Hoffman’s son Cooper Hoffman make his acting debut. His father, an Oscar-winning genius, died in 2014...What we never could have imagined, though, is that Cooper’s freshman performance (he’s so green, his IMDB page doesn’t have a photo yet) would be one of the best of the year in what is easily the best film of 2021, Paul Thomas Anderson’s brilliant Licorice Pizza. This wonderful kid should be in the Oscar race, but we’re too predictably infatuated with big names. Let’s fix that.

Someway, somehow, it’s the funniest movie to hit theaters in a long time.

1917 is a modern war classic and one of the best movies of the year.

Scorsese is at the top of his game here. His film is never boring, and it explores some unexpectedly deep themes for mafiosos.

The match of larger-than-life actress to larger-than-life role is perfection.

The performance everybody will be soon talking about is Olivia Colman’s royal turn in the entrancing new drama, The Favourite.

Our blockbuster drought is over, thanks to a brilliant sequel set on a sweltering desert planet.

It’s Buckley who’s giving one of those rare turns that simply beggars belief. She swings back and forth from cast iron to porcelain. The actress is thunderous, playful, grounded and ethereal. She breaks your heart — not only when the worst befalls Agnes, but whenever she cracks a smile.

Good old reliable Marty pulls it off again, addictively unraveling a tale that’s almost too terrible to be true with panache, gusto and just the right amount of cultural respect.

Be you a fan of basketball or basket weaving, Air will snugly fit the tastes of just about anybody.

Issues millions of people face everyday are addressed cleverly and poignantly, and never without a hint of humor. Wilde isn’t really interested in sentimentality, either, and her movie hits harder for it.

Every aspect — acting, writing, special effects, score — is a notch above its superhero peers. In the best possible sense, you forget you’re watching just another Marvel movie.

Endlessly entertaining and frequently hysterical, “Anora” is one of the year’s best films and a formidable Oscar contender.

Directors Joaquim Dos Santos, Kemp Powers and Justin K. Thompson and writers Phil Lord, Christopher Miller and David Callaham web-swing to such high heights by treating Miles Morales, our Spidey, as a complicated and hormonal New York teen who love-hates his parents and not just another cog in a franchise.

Dismiss “Cha Cha” as yet another heartwarming comedy at your peril because every single person in it has layers upon layers of complexity.

It’s gripping, visually mesmeric, boasts an exceptional, grounded script by Tony Kushner and is acted to the hilt.

Trust me — it’s been ages since you’ve seen actors have this much fun in a movie.

You’ll never look at Shia LaBeouf the same way after seeing Honey Boy, the affecting movie that’s inspired by his own life. If you run into him on the street, you’ll want to give the poor guy a hug.

Most thrilling are the stage sequences. Cooper often films Ally’s thousands of screaming fans from her point of view — putting us in her lucky shoes for a minute...It’s that feeling of exhilaration that makes A Star Is Born the best film of the year so far.

Writer and director Christopher McQuarrie borrows just the right amount of familiar spy tropes in his second “M:I” outing, and his film, while intelligent and witty, never becomes too self-serious or chatty. It’s the best night out at the movies so far this summer.

You’ll find that out in the film’s last — and best — moment, which belongs to Redmayne. Is it sentimental? You betcha. But it sure takes you back to the TV magic of President Bartlet.

Spending more than a decade pining for Pandora was worth it. Cameron has delivered the grandest movie since, well, “Avatar,” and with an over-three-hour runtime that never sags. What better way for struggling cinemas to regain their footing than with a gargantuan film that so celebrates the glory of the big screen?

What any of us wouldn’t give for a spontaneous night of rule breaking and lounge hopping with a genuine NY character, like Murray’s, again. Coppola’s funny and slyly emotional film, which should be cherished, is the closest we’ll get to that for a while.

To say I was never bored wouldn’t be quite right. Rather, I was always transfixed.

This re-imagining of Chucky’s origins manages to be both crazier and more level-headed than the original, in which the doll strolled around Chicago talking like a gangster from “Guys and Dolls.”

Directed by James Griffiths, this is the sort of hilarious heart-warmer that only comes around once or twice a year to offer a blessed break from darkness, snobbery and streaming schlock. It’s so easy to love, even if love doesn’t come easy for its characters.

Love and Thunder is an urgent reminder that in order for the MCU to keep going, in an entertaining, soulful way, creativity and innovation is required. You can’t just say “multiverse” 1,000 times and call it a movie.

The actress is absolute bliss in her new Italian drama, The Life Ahead.

“Heron” is not as perfect as some of Miyazaki’s past movies. The trippy story is dizzying by the end as too many characters are introduced too late and we navigate a thicket of hastily explained narrative elements. But it nonetheless leaves a powerful emotional effect if you let it wash over you.

Lets viewers uniquely into Springsteen’s creative process: Choosing a set list, adjusting tempos, collaborating with background singers. In short: Getting the band back together.

The hugely enjoyable second entry doesn’t lift the franchise to new artistic heights, a la The Empire Strikes Back, but Part II is every bit as good and scary as its predecessor, and the characters, especially the kids, go to deeper and braver places.

Anderson’s gorgeous stop-motion animated film is much more than just a transdermal patch for America’s cuteness addiction. Instead, he’s crafted a wicked smart satire of moronic local politicians that fits in snuggly with his eclectic oeuvre.

It’s one of the year’s sweetest films.

Plummer’s last-minute performance is smashing. In fact, the whole film is excellent.

No. 3, with a reported price tag of more than $400 million, is the most visually glorious of the trio, adding fresh and imaginative beings and environments that further flesh out one of the all-time great fantasy locales.

It is one that sweeps you up, though, in its beautifully detailed vision of an analog New York where stars eat at greasy spoons below 14th and future music legends pass the hat in basement clubs. Scrounging for their next meal.

It might sound like a gimmick, but it’s as good as any action-comedy you’re likely to see. Cage heightens his already big personality just the right amount to ensure that the film rises above a skit. We care a great deal about fictional Nicolas Cage.

Matsoukas also finds two first-rate performances in Kaluuya and Turner-Smith. Theirs is one of the more carefully paced romances in recent memory, and the subtle way their tension switches from fear to desire is masterful.

While Rentheads and Broadway fans will certainly connect to it on a deeper level than those who only know Idina Menzel as Elphaba, not Maureen, Tick, Tick is a terrific, moving, propulsive film on its own terms. It’s about New York, art, life and love.

Now that’s how you do a 1980s film sequel.

Directed with visual splendor by Wes Ball, the meaty film’s combo of flawless zoological effects (unlike this year’s inferior primate picture “Godzilla x Kong”), superbly crafted characters and a timeless story of emerging civilization and the fight for survival is remarkably riveting for what sets the groundwork of a whole new trilogy.

The fact that Fiennes went right from playing a cardinal in Best Picture-nominated “Conclave” to a nearly-naked hermit with a hobby that would raise Hannibal Lecter’s brow makes me wish we could send the actor’s brain out to be analyzed by scientists.

Director William Oldroyd’s mouthwatering drama, based on Ottessa Moshfegh’s acclaimed novel, misleads and misdirects all the way to the shocker ending.

Fiennes is magnificent, and a scene involving him and Iron Maiden’s song “Number of the Beast” will go down as one of the most buzzed-about sequences of 2026. Were it written for a grisly horror movie, Alex Garland’s climax would fit snuggly into a Shakespearean comedy.

Panahi is keenly aware of his limitations — both governmental and budgetary — and has crafted a taut, intimate and blood-pumping story around them. Talk about great art being born out of impossible circumstances.

It’s the gargantuan and deeply satisfying Spider-Man: No Way Home in which the former Billy Elliot proves he’s more than a teen idol with a perfect American accent. This time, his Peter’s got gravitas, emotional oomph, brutality, believable love, an anguished scene in the rain! The movie is the actor’s best performance yet, in anything, Spandex or no.

Richard is flawed, never villainous or heroic, and rarely follows his own fervent advice to be humble. You leave in awe of what he accomplished, but not admiring the whole man. Few biopics dare to have layers anymore.

Also making a meal of a morsel is Chloë Sevigny as Paul’s mom. The actress probably has fewer than 20 lines, and still she brings depth and palpable regret to her scene.

The last time Guillermo del Toro directed a movie, 2017’s The Shape of Water, he won the Best Picture Oscar. His latest, Nightmare Alley, probably won’t, but it is nonetheless a far more entertaining and satisfying film than its overrated science-fiction predecessor.

Rental Family is a heartwarming jewel of a movie that is a dazzling showcase of Japan’s urban and natural beauty, instead of the usual depiction of hordes of tourists surrounded by skyscrapers and lit by LEDs.

With Frozen II, Disney has done the impossible: It’s made a terrific animated-musical sequel.

Twisters, the disaster movie starring Daisy Edgar-Jones, is an oddity in 2024: a reboot that’s actually worth your time.

Based on Erich Maria Remarque’s 1929 World War I novel, the German film on Netflix is unsparing in its portrayal of the horrors of battle. It’s sensory-overload, tough-though-rewarding viewing.

A movie that runs on jet fuel and confetti, Elvis is a tribute to Presley’s innovative spirit, deep passion for fusing blues, country and gospel music and the intense connection he had with his audience

In combining the old genre tropes with a potent message — the eternal recipe for a great horror film — the ever-entertaining director again shows he has something forceful to say, be it with boxers, superheroes or blood-suckin’ vampires.

Director Oliver Hermanus has as much restraint as his star (and for a modestly sized movie, impressively manages a visually believable 1950s Britain), and the viewer never feels emotionally manipulated.

Impressive throughout is the way Eisenberg balances reverence for his locations and belly-grabbing comedy, while using those elements to support each other.

The bonkers ending will be a talker. At first, I was skeptical, segued to disturbed, and then thoroughly creeped out. It’s a wild choice, however, one with a hint of precedent elsewhere in the series. And it serves to differentiate what is, admirably, a highly deferential film.

The well-known story beats are also given renewed vitality by the young actors, whom director Christopher Zalla expertly steers away from being typical overemoting movie kids.

[A] sublime drama, sprinkled with moments of lightness.

The lighthearted drama, about a road trip by two men — one white, one black — is unflinchingly optimistic.

You’re not dreaming. Billy Madison, Mr. Deeds, Happy Gilmore, Robbie Hart and the guy that sang “The Hanukkah Song” is doing the finest work of his career in Uncut Gems, a new crime comedy co-written and directed by Joshua and Benny Safdie. Pigs have flown, for Sandler is brilliant.

Director James Gray’s style harks back to classic space movies, such as “Alien” and “Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan,” that played around with the vastness of the stars, and made it seem like there was nowhere lonelier. Ad Astra also has an old-school visual panache, with deep-colored, dramatic lighting that’s regrettably fallen out of fashion.

Only an actress as caution-to-the-wind as Colman could connect so profoundly with a patio chair. Skarsgard’s sensitivity also helps.

French director Yann Demange doesn’t clean up the story or make a hurting neighborhood look pretty. The film stays foreboding, gritty and honest. Merritt’s no-frills style is the film’s greatest asset, while McConaughey brings an authentic paternal concern to his usual trailer-park persona.

Fraser, so good, takes what could be a joke, a flat tragedy, or even a lecture about weight and imbues it with gorgeous humanity.

Four tremendous films and nine years into the adrenaline-fueled, Reeves-led action series, director Chad Stahelski has yet to let his franchise noticeably dip in quality.

The tone of “Brittany,” and its emotional impact, reminds me of Amazon’s other heartfelt winner, “The Big Sick,” which netted Kumail Nanjiani and Emily V. Gordon an Oscar nod for original screenplay. Colaizzo should get one, too.

It’s a perfect flick for families, but also a jolly time for anyone with a pulse.

Apollo 11 is foremost a tale of technology and humanity. It’s about a country that needed a figurative lift, and got it with a literal one.

There are a couple plot threads I found weird — particularly in the final push — that don’t land as powerfully as they intend to. But the resolution is immensely satisfying regardless of a few blips. It’s Payne’s finest work in years.

Banshees, reuniting Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell from “In Bruges,” is a scream from start to finish-erin.

Watching Chadwick Boseman in his final movie, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, is pure heartbreak.

Beyond simply embodying the quirks and look of a historical figure, Kaluuya’s passion makes you believe the masses would actually follow him.

This “Poppins” sequel has an entirely new score, with exactly none of the cherished songs from the great Julie Andrews movie. Once you accept that, you can move on — and enjoy the countless other joys this follow-up has to offer. It will be a jolly-er holiday with Mary Poppins Returns.

As Callas so devastatingly starts to lose it, “Maria” satisfyingly stirs our insides in the mysterious way an opera does.

The style and tone of writer-director Dan Scanlon’s movie has elements of DreamWorks’ “Shrek” and “How To Train Your Dragon” mixed with the siblings-with-secrets aspects of Disney’s “Frozen.” But Onward is better for the change-up. That stylistic and narrative departure gives us Pixar’s most heartfelt story in years.

The real find here is Gourav, who gives a pressure-cooker turn as Balram, a guy who can no longer smile and nod at his own oppression. He switches rapidly from sweet to deranged, gullible to Machiavellian, generous to bloodthirsty. This guy’s got more layers than spanakopita.

Impressively, however, director Elizabeth Banks keeps the powder gags fresh throughout, as the mammal maims her way through a Southern forest preserve. The movie about blow never blows.

Good for Lee for being a director of many ideas in a heartless Hollywood of sequels and franchises.

Saltburn has a brain, no doubt about it, but it also has a script that’s written in jet fuel.

Brilliant star Michael B. Jordan does double-duty in “III,” returning to play Adonis Creed and directing a film for the first time — the man is a champ at both athletics and aesthetics.

If you want to celebrate the life of legendary actor Brian Dennehy, who died last month at age 81, start with one of his final films: Driveways. His performance as a widowed veteran is right up there with his finest screen work, which makes his passing all the sadder.

What a gift Zeitlin has with children. He showed that special skill with “Beasts,” but does even more so here, with the kid ensemble being full of personality and entirely unrestrained. The freedom and unbridled joy they find on the island are infectious, like their movie.

During a moment in which movies tend to be either cynically corporate or bleaker than a black hole, “Project Hail Mary” dares to be about that once-great driver of drama: friendship.

The experience is akin to being blindfolded and thrown into a trunk — except fun!

Wladyka keeps the film lively with a sparkler aesthetic and a flair for musical storytelling.

Like Emerald Fennell’s shapeshifting mystery, “Challengers” is, at once, artful, addictive and deceptive. The salivating viewer believes it’s one thing, becomes sure it’s another and then leaves with a different theory altogether.

Running in the footsteps of the last two entries directed by Christopher McQuarrie, “Fallout” and “Dead Reckoning,” No. 8 is another high-voltage, gargantuanly envisioned test of Cruise’s bodily limits. Only this franchise can make wincing fun.

This film is so sexy and cool and punk rock, you forget all about that Mickey logo and Cinderella’s cutesy castle.

For those who do not have a room in the house devoted to Elvis memorabilia, or care a lick about the guy, “EPiC” is still an energizing experience. To my mind, there’s nothing better than observing the greatest artists of all time do what they do best — unvarnished.

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.

Bullet Train is a fun flick, to be sure, reminiscent of director Guy Ritchie’s better crime comedies such as “The Gentlemen” with Hugh Grant. But, as the title suggests, it’s louder and faster. And, a warning to the squeamish, there’s a swimming pool’s worth of blood.

Reijn’s film, which was written by Sarah DeLappe and Kristen Roupenian, succeeds in making a young basement horror movie for today. And, as least year’s “Scream” reboot showed us, it’s a genre that’s been stuck for far too long in 1996.

Although the film is about Paige’s unlikely rise to TV stardom, what grabs us most is the eclectic Knight family running a scrappy professional wrestling gym on a shoestring. It might be the biggest missed reality-TV show opportunity ever.

With hero flicks getting as weighty and self-important as “The Handmaid’s Tale,” it’s a relief to watch one let its hair down. These gloomy films could use more exclamation points.

Beyond the requisite lessons, there are some witty touches.

Most importantly, Halloween recovers its long-lost gravitas and self-respect. It makes us remember why we loved Carpenter’s original in the first place: It was artful, frightening and supremely well-acted — not “Scream 4.”

This time, ‘Zilla and Kong face off in ginormous Hong Kong — a destruction junkie’s dream battlefield. Neon, chrome and oversize animals clobbering each other. Also around is another adversary whose reveal will have fans drooling. See Godzilla vs. Kong on the big screen if you can.

Ultimately “Mad About the Boy” is much like Bridget herself: endearing, silly, messy, wacky, kind. I like it… just as it is.

M. Night Shyamalan’s new thriller, Old, is campy, poorly written, candy-colored and subtle as Eurovision.

J.Lo has delivered an over-the-top song-and-dance camptacular, both gravely serious and deliriously funny, providing one cuckoo moment after another.

While not totally original, transitions to live action with real guts and reinvention.

Some will accuse Our Friend of being sentimental, and it is, but not in an “Oh no! The golden retriever was kidnapped!” way. It’s subtle. The wisdom of Brad Ingelsby’s script is that Dane’s assistance is unnoticeable until very late in the movie. His acts of kindness sneak up on you.

Freddie Mercury may have had the better voice, but it’s Elton John who gets the better movie. Rocketman, director Dexter Fletcher’s trippy new biopic about the flamboyant rocker is braver, deeper and more enlightening than last year’s slobbering piece of Queen propaganda “Bohemian Rhapsody” (which he also partly directed).

If the title makes you wince, know the movie is a lot better than it deserves to be. You’ll actually care about what happens to the prickly blue dude, even if you never cared about getting to zone seven.

This comedy soars squarely on small moments and big jokes.

The film is empty-headed good fun that’s blessedly under two hours and has just enough character development to make you kind of care when someone gets bitten.

Most of DC Comics’ dreadful movies deserve to be violently squished, but not Blue Beetle, a refreshingly spry new film featuring the lesser-loved, bug-shaped superhero who’s been crawling around in some form since 1939.

The Devil Wears Prada 2, the sequel to the 2006 comedy that’s not at all about Anna Wintour, is a good time, even if the high-pressure world of Vogue, er, Runway magazine is no longer the epitome of New York luxury and glamour it was back in the aughts.

The gory-as-hell movie is as campy and fun as any chapter in producer Sam Raimi’s four-decade-old horror series. But trapping kids in an apartment — as opposed to college-age friends in a cabin — raises the stakes and brings on legitimate scares. And some hearty laughs, too.

Dunham has made a really attractive and cohesive film, merging her modern, punky sensibilities with the dirt-and-stone drear of the time period.

It’s the most touching dramedy about young women battling over a sash since “Little Miss Sunshine.”

Unlike Zack Snyder’s Justice League, there is nothing serious about The Suicide Squad. That’s a good thing.

Lane and Costner are swell, but the film jolts to life the second we walk into Blanche’s dimly lit kitchen, occupied by even dimmer men. The villainous Manville acts like a rooster, clucking, crowing and, worst of all, pecking. A sickening scene in a motel won’t have you taking the kids to South Dakota anytime soon.

While the movie could be a notch scarier, the unsettling imagery and slow build to chaos make me want another movie by this director stat.

This dramedy, which began filming in 1970, is more than just a museum exhibit for film geeks. It’s a solid, entertaining, complex story packed with eccentric performances.

The action film is as unpretentious as Charlie Sheen eating a Krispy Kreme doughnut at Six Flags. In short: blissfully dumb entertainment.

Boy Erased is the second gay conversion therapy movie of the year, after “The Miseducation of Cameron Post.” Both are worthwhile. Where “Cameron” was an intimate charmer focused on the importance of camaraderie to get through hard times, the more dramatic Boy Erased is about accepting our family for who they are, in whatever condition they arrive in.

A terribly funny sendup of the show that famously gave us “Waterloo” by ABBA in 1974, and now gives us a year’s supply of crazy. The Netflix film is the most enjoyable music industry parody since Christopher Guest’s folk satire “A Mighty Wind.”

The beefcake Swayze role, Dalton, is taken over by an intense Jake Gyllenhaal in this entertaining and, for better or worse, less mockable update of the cult classic.

The film is an often ugly character study of a hard life that only got worse the more famous Martin got.

A funny-but-tortured femme-fatale performance from Florence Pugh as Russian assassin Yelena Belova, brutal and tactile fights and a merciful lack of confusing backstory makes for the most enjoyable MCU entry in a while.

The John Wick action series doesn’t get bogged down in such silly trivialities as character development, plot, dialogue, morals or any of the usual rubrics most films follow. Instead, these fun flicks are just loosely connected, extremely violent fight scenes starring Neo from “The Matrix.” And why the hell not?

What I love about Green’s style is he has both a sense of the grand — he gives Michael’s mask the cinematic weight of Moses’ Ten Commandments slabs — and the goofy.

But like he seems to do with every project these days, Grant runs away with the movie.

As the horror genre has, in recent years, grown more sophisticated and clever, you heave a sigh of relief to be handed a thriller that’s so dumb.

Many modern teen issues are touched upon — depression, anxiety, eating disorders — and because of the honest performances from Smith and Fanning, you ache for them.

Keeping logical track of all the comings and goings is like trying to focus on a single bird in a flock. The details, names and faces blur a little more every time a character rounds a corner, just as they would for the ailing Anthony. With its narrative boldness, however, The Father never stirs or fully satiates.

Emancipation, which is an otherwise well-tread period drama about the horrors of slavery, features more of Smith’s rich emotionality and laser-focused intensity that he’s uncovered late in his career and that won him the Oscar for last year’s “King Richard.”

We hold Pixar to a higher standard because of the true art it has achieved over the past – gulp – 30 years. If “Inside Out 2” doesn’t quite reach those heights, it is still a promising step on the studio’s difficult quest to rediscover its own sense of self.

Although “Ben” can get a little sentimental at times, Roberts and Hedges are a team to root for.

It’s a low-key rest-stop story that appreciates life’s banalities and the struggles of ordinary people.

What’s best and most consistent about “2” is how flippin’ funny it is.

Nothing salacious, and no dropped bombs here. Stan & Ollie portrays the pair less as hot-headed collaborators than a bickering married couple.

The song that rolls at the end credits is Bob Dylan’s “Not Dark Yet.” It’s a perfect coda for Linklater’s movie — it mimics the steady pulse of “Flag”, its warmth and Doc’s cautious optimism in the face of personal tragedy.

What a refreshing break from what usually constitutes an epic nowadays — mixing Ant-Man and the Hulk.

Taps into our worst fears of what could happen during a quiet holiday with heart-thumping realism.

Support the Girls is one of the sneakiest bait-and-switches at the movies this year. You come for the cheeky title and stay for the relevant, empathetic story about working-class women.

For the most part, though, Luca is light and effervescent as a summertime Bellini, which is something parents can drink while the kids watch this.

A sweet, science-fiction family film with a loud environmentalist message (speaking of “Avatar”) that’s good fun. It’s also nicely self-contained.

Don’t be fooled by its awful title. The Spy Who Dumped Me is the rare secret-agent spoof that doesn’t double-O-suck.

The Drama, for all its heat, is not perfect. I wasn’t won over by its climactic series of calamities that fall in rapid succession like dominoes at the end. However, most movies are completely forgotten by the time the credits roll. This one, like it or not, lingers for days. It’ll likely wind up one of the most controversial movies of the year.

It’s a pleasant watch with some solid jokes.

Hamilton the film is just OK.

Forty-three years later, “Tron: Ares” is groundbreaking for being the first “Tron” film with a discernible plot.

A very fine follow-up to the most successful horror film ever.

It’s an impressive first effort from Kravitz that, like the island and the women, immediately has us in its grip.

A riotous dark comedy in which a cute suburban get-together becomes a lethal nightmare.

While a tad too light, as these films often are, nobody is making animated characters as funny or likable (or marketable) as the Minions.

Being obvious nostalgia bait for children of the ’90s, director Rob Letterman’s film has no right to be as good or well-crafted as it is. The plot takes major twists that come as legitimate surprises, and seeing those old cartoon characters plopped into our world rendered in CGI is enormously satisfying.

If McKay crafted the most enjoyable parts of his satire with a scalpel, somebody should’ve handed him a machete to chop the script down some. The film clocks in at nearly two hours and 10 minutes, and we grow exhausted by it as the surprises stop and the ending becomes inevitable.

Though the cast is a decade older, Zombieland: Double Tap is no less funny. Thanks to some new additions, it’s even more riotous.

There’s a lot going on here, but Washington’s complex, emotionally turbulent performance makes it all work.

Panahi, who defied a filmmaking ban from the Iranian government to make this, is a director always worth supporting.

Ritchie is tops when it comes to getting a group of guys (and, occasionally, gal) together to complete a bloody, belligerent task. And this is as taut an ensemble of his as ever.

Wood, like fellow mega-franchise star Daniel Radcliffe, has found a comfy home in indie films. And he has the perfect presence for this one, in particular.

Leonard takes advantage of one of Rylance’s greatest strengths — the ability to instantly switch from weak to strong. Behind every tiny smile is ferocity.

It is a phenomenal showcase for Ronan, who dares to be unlikable for the rare time in her career. Her natural charm and whimsy we’re used to from “Lady Bird” and “Little Women” is but a glimmer in Rona’s eye — and that little light is why the viewer roots for this troubled woman as hard as they do.

The entertaining movie from director Rose Glass, whose first feature was “Saint Maud,” is unsparing in its graphic depictions of violence, abuse and extreme aspects of the body. Many will find all of that stuff gratuitous, but it fleshes out this unsavory world and ratchets up the plot’s tension.

“Old Man” isn’t hilarious or sleek. It’s mellow, like a campfire tale, or your grandpa’s stories set to whiskey. Redford’s voice never becomes louder than your average therapist’s.