Jordan Raup

It’s a warm, patient film culminating in a quietly powerful, reflective finale, though its sum is greater than its parts when the first two sections register a touch underdeveloped.

It’s a film of overwhelming empathy and playfulness as loneliness turns into gratification and desires are slowly manifested into reality.

Joseph’s mesmerizing debut feels like a living, breathing dispatch from a time beyond ours, ushering in new possibilities for the form.

Hittman has provided an essential, specific look at just one person’s struggle to have control over her own body. By doing so with such a delicate, considered perspective, she’s giving a voice to millions of women going through the same experience. And it’s time to listen.

Hogg’s earlier films are striking in their picturesque abstractness as we sit in on conversations from a distance, but the ambition and warmth on display in The Souvenir makes this her greatest achievement.

A thematically rich and acutely moving update for both a new generation and certainly many more to follow.

A directorial debut of unfiltered frankness in both its tragedy and comedy, Sorry, Baby is a singular feat of storytelling.

The Tale is a soul-excavating reckoning with the suppression of trauma and a testament to the courage required for a victim to confront the most damaging moments of their lives.

One of the most subtly striking decisions in Minari is to not focus on the major moments in their path towards the American Dream, but rather memorable interactions within this tight-knit family, however minor they may be.

Unfolding with a specific eye for grandeur in every space, the images resonate long after the credits roll.

Providing levity and comfort to ideas of mortality, Kirsten Johnson has illuminated the sweet embrace of death.

As we hear the actual recordings of the astronauts communicating with the designated capsule communicator (aka CAPCOM), it gives Apollo 11 an underlying, powerful thread of humanity.

While there’s no denying the film’s empathetic, tear-inducing impact, one wonders if a tighter structural grip would allow it to have been even more effective.

With remarkably immediate cinematography and an intimate understanding of its subjects, Descendant becomes an essential ideal of how to tell a community’s story: not through distant talking heads, but capturing moving bodies through land and history, giving a voice to those that can often feel powerless.

Aster displays proficient skill in eerie tone-setting, elaborate production design, and the type of scares that will leave a pervasive imprint on the mind, even if the underlying mythology gets over-complicated by the finale.

For relying on the barest narrative threads, watching All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt is more an experience of transformative renewal than gleaning specific details of Mack’s story.

Good One is an acutely felt portrait of impending womanhood and a remarkable debut for India Donaldson.

A conspiracy thriller as euphorically entertaining as it is devastatingly bleak.

Through his exquisite vision, Mascaro tells a curious tale of spiritual commitment, marital strife, and the blurred separation of church and state, leading to an ultimately surprising, powerful conclusion.

In Araújo’s vigorous directorial vision, a heightened sense of anxiety courses through, hinging on the precise ways a girl in mental free-fall, rightfully lacking the words or life experience to find a footing, will react to each daunting new situation.

In capturing the trans experience with language that only cinema can convey, Schoenbrun has crafted one of the most original, evocative, adventurous films of this decade.

Thoroughly engrossing ... The way the directors are able to provide a portrait of empathy on all sides is astounding.

Crip Camp is both an inspiring historical document of a grass-roots movement but also an urgent call to action for those on the sidelines of ongoing political and societal battles.

One of Eighth Grade‘s greatest strengths is its specificity related to the current generation.

This Un Certain Regard jury prize winner is a darkly humorous, cautionary character study in letting one’s long-lost creative dreams drive every decision––one in which Soto, more often than not, finds empathy as his protagonist circles the drain.

Filled with scenes both broad and understated, Mudbound may take some time to find an engaging rhythm and poignant depth, but once it does, the powerful last act will not be soon forgotten.

Seeing how Soderbergh and Koepp can expertly stack the deck to always be one step before the viewer is an exhilarating thrill to behold.

Although just under 100 minutes isn’t enough time to capture every nuance of 10 years with multiple subjects, One in a Million is an ambitious, affecting declaration that a complete sense of freedom will only arrive when personal independence is fulfilled.

A surprising coda that leans into more genre-friendly jolts can feel at odds with what came before, yet A Useful Ghost marks an impressively ambitious, layered debut about a spirit’s ability to illuminate the ills and complications of modern life.

These men have dedicated their entire lives to not only finding these exquisite white Alba truffles but also to the dogs that help them find their way, and to see their culture upturned for selfish reasons is an upsetting thing to witness. That they still have so much personality, joy, and life in them, however, makes The Truffle Hunters a delightful, charming watch.

Brimming with an inner life and an authenticity that shouldn’t be undervalued due to its tough subject matter, Leaf’s debut is a film without a single false note.

It may begin with a scattered, cartoonish approach, but Booksmart eventually blooms into something entirely and beautifully its own.

The documentary shows the Kraffts’ harmonious curiosity with nature––even its most cataclysmic forces––to make the world a safer place is a lesson anyone could benefit from.

Eggers, whose production and costume design background is on full display in the austerely crafted setting, effectively builds the tension of this divine battle, one which isn’t scary, but surely memorable.

Steeped in the mythology and fables of Japanese history, it’s another fantastical adventure from the studio with innovation and awe at every turn, despite a story that could benefit from having more specificity and focus.

While a few too-prescient touches pull one out of the experience and its inevitable conclusion leaves a bit to be desired, The Vast of Night is a mightily admirable and entertaining tale that heralds the birth of a career to watch.

The psychological weight of our certain death and the fact that life will go on long after we are departed is difficult to visually convey, but A Ghost Story is one of the most poignant films to ever grapple with this existential question.

What makes Boys State so compelling is it appeals both to the most cynical and hopeful of viewers.

With a gentle yet rigorous vision, Eephus coalesces into a reflective study of nostalgia: both for a game that has evolved and for a certain kind of American social life that is dwindling as fast as the sun fades.

Even divorced from scandal, Weiner makes for a captivating, sadly comical look at the machinations of the political process.

A screwball comedy that never forgets a dramatic weight, Silver’s latest feature is a hilarious, touching, and acerbic tale of picking one’s self back up and not being afraid to pursue what is truly desired.

This collection of lost souls and inquiry into their perspective on life results in a tale of profound authenticity and devastating heartbreak.

Gandbhir isn’t here to provide those answers, but with her unembellished, formally compelling vision, she gives all the evidence needed for those in power to rethink the laws and systems in place.

Beautifully showing the importance of healing through art, Sing Sing skirts the treacly traps of a feel-good crowd-pleaser by providing a detailed, authentic roadmap for restoring a life burdened by trauma.

Most surprising of all, Mandy isn’t solely about the carnage-heavy path for revenge. Cosmatos knows that the impact will be much greater felt if there’s an emotional backbone. Thus, one can feel the soul-churning passion behind every popping eye and crushed skull.

A generous, graceful, full-hearted drama about the complexities of desiring a child when your physiology denies you at every turn.

While Don’t Think Twice depicts a certain world with incisive specificity, its themes of what success truly means are universal to anyone involved in the arts.

It’s an ambitious undertaking for an 87-minute film, and while this lofty aim can result in a few passages striking a bit broad, one comes away admiring D’Ambrose’s meticulously committed approach to storytelling.

With an immersive vérité touch, Acasă, My Home vividly captures living on the margins of society––whether it’s actually off the grid or being thrown into a system not of your choosing.

War of the Planet of the Apes has all the bombast and sense of finality seemingly required for the end of a trilogy, but there’s an underlying emptiness that nags with each scene.

A kinetic, comedic journey taking place over a day, Kirill Mikhanovsky’s film is a bit too needlessly frenzy as it eventually runs out of steam, but is potent in its exploration of shared cross-cultural experiences.

Marjorie Prime, a micro-scale sci-fi chamber drama, fascinatingly explores the perception and dissolution of what we remember throughout our lives.

Led by André Holland in an impressively anguished performance, the ensemble elevates a script that has its heart in the right place but feels lacking in layers of complexity that we see from the art on display.

There are no grand revelations or heightened emotions to be found in this film. Rather, Reichardt is keenly aware of small interactions, whether it be a few words or a glance, that make the most memorable moments in one’s life

There will never be easy answers when dealing with the soul-baring act of producing truly great art, but Josephine Decker’s film is as mesmerizing a plunge into the process as one is likely to find in modern cinema.

With a strong sense of authenticity and purpose, The Northman is designed to unnerve and repel. In a wide release landscape of easy-to-please, vaporous entertainment, such feats should be celebrated.

For all its anger at the ways Black experience has been flattened, reduced, and commodified, American Fiction has a fleet-footed touch, distilling complicated systemic issues of race to a comedy that invites both a laugh and conversation.

While Speer Goes to Hollywood effectively shows the delusions of Speer’s mythologization, one wishes it didn’t skirt around more complicated questions of cordiality in the filmmaking process when dealing with such monstrous history.

Throughout his films, Waititi has always been skilled at melding comedy with trauma and crafting screenplays with crowdpleasing callbacks. Hunt for the Wilderpeople is another such example of amiable, kind-hearted storytelling.

Journalistic in the sense that it feels like Beshir has compiled stray quotes, fleeting snapshots, and loosely connected thoughts from a journal into a dreamy cinematic form, Faya Dayi becomes more breathtaking as these images and ideas coalesce.

Menashe works as both a rare introduction to a way of life largely unseen (or exaggerated by those outside of it) as well as a touching depiction of fighting for what’s most important in life.

The finishing of the narrative puzzle isn’t as graceful as the mindful setting of its pieces, but this is a rare director who has something compelling to convey with each choice he makes behind the camera.

Ira Sachs’ radiantly sexual three-hander Passages couldn’t have assembled a finer trio of actors to explore modern love in all its splendor and messiness.

Holofcener deftly juggles the emotions of every character, parsing exactly where each is coming from, lucidly and thoughtfully elaborating her script with their specific insecurities.

While spare early passages are narratively opaque and formally ornate to a distancing fault, the riveting second half––including a chilling reckoning with others occupying the desolate land and a well-executed structural gamble––brings profound expansion to this chilling story of atrocity.

It all culminates in a final scene that is as eloquent as it is wise.

Those going into Paul Harrill’s second feature looking for frights will be rewarded with something more substantial: an experience rich with atmosphere and humanity, and drama ultimately more enlightening than the cheap thrills that pervade the dime-a-dozen ghost stories we’ve seen before.

An effective concoction of cosmic mystery and earnest emotion to elevate its small-scale, homespun design, Colin West’s Linoleum evolves into a nifty, heartfelt sci-drama.

In capturing the crumbling of a family and the scars left behind, Paul Dano has made a fascinatingly complex portrait of the fracturing of American ideals.

A shimmering example of what Hollywood sci-fi can achieve when the aim is high, Annihilation is a gripping, mystifying adventure and proof that a transportive experience is more rewarding than a story with clean-cut resolutions.

It’s a depressing, disturbing journey to witness, but an essential one to see the machinations of evil that pervade and influence our daily life on the internet and beyond.

Gornostai’s documentary is a powerful reminder that even under the worst of circumstances, humanity will always find a way to endure.

Embracing the sci-fi genre, they take out the world-saving doom and frightful creature effects this breed of films is known for, and instead deliver a light, cuddly adventure that’s a step below its predecessor in shear (sorry!) inventiveness but still containing a wealth of delightful comedic gags.

Once again Soderbergh has delivered a film that comes across as effortlessly constructed, which could only be achieved through immense consideration of every detail.

An earnest, clear-cut drama about the struggle for one woman’s liberation from the shackles of domesticity, Puzzle does what it sets out to do remarkably well.

While Sing Street is often infectious its its scraggly energy, one wishes Conor’s other band members were slightly more fleshed-out, which would make their already-absorbing performances sing even more.

Indignation is a thoughtful examination of romantic courtship and educational routines that’s best when its writer-director prioritizes characters over plot.

More abstract than her previous films–and therefore, I imagine, off-putting to many–the steady, surreal, and sweet flashes of brilliance in this one-of-a-kind story are enough to sustain interest during some of the more tedious passages.

The viscerality will surely leave one shaken, though they may question if the unceasing sadistic acts on display are worth the experience.

Despite an ending that is far too obvious and tidy, Agnus Dei is a moving drama about the struggle to keep one’s faith in the most difficult of situations.

The details in this post-apocalyptic chamber drama — flat-out horror this is not — are spare, an initially refreshing decision that ultimately results in a rather empty, half-formed narrative.

As a hyper-focused, dream-like portrait of a teenager grappling with both the conditions of his upbringing and a newfound identity, Beach Rats feels invigorating at very turn.

Riley doesn’t offer a great deal of insight, but he clearly has a lot on his mind. Here’s hoping he retains this creative edge on a more focused follow-up.

Nosferatu is a feast for the senses, so transportive in its world-building that one can almost sense the legion of rats scurrying below their feet and feel the chill in the air when Orlok glides through the moon-lit window to guzzle blood.

Clemency is a thoroughly draining experience as if we’re placed in purgatory with no means of escape, but it’s ultimately powerful in the ways it shows how the death penalty has consequences for everyone involved.

Slalom ultimately becomes a story about seeing one’s passion in life corrupted through the twisted, pre-meditated manipulation of a mentor. It’s enraging and crushing in equal measure.

Weaving in skillfully employed, grounded visual effects, it’s rather shocking just how much the ghost, sight unseen, feels like another character in the movie.

As it stands today, Lo and Behold is an entertaining exploration into an ever-shifting discussion, but, with Herzog’s specific charms, it will no doubt be a significant time capsule — or ominous document of warning — in the years to come.

Retrograde is a powerful reminder that conflict breeds conflict and enacting a plan trying to protect a certain group of people will always leave others neglected.

With a lovingly crude sense of humor and finding the perfect star in Hewson to radiate sincere liveliness every moment she’s onscreen, Carney has crafted a winning tale of motherhood and music.

While it’s not as stylish as Husson’s Bang Gang, Girls of the Sun is just as assured. There’s a specific political message at its back and it expresses it without compromise for better or worse.

While Rebel Ridge hints at larger systemic issues that could be part of a million other small towns across the country, the film works best when solely anchored on Terry’s perspective. The experience is one of riveting twists, turns, and unnerving tension.

Accompanied by Mica Levi’s score–which mixes fairytale-esque harps to introduce the story and Southern-fried beats and synths as the craziness progresses–Bravo elevates the material and provides a unified, eccentric vision.

Where Decker’s film excels is in the innovative perspective brought to each moment and the talented ensemble that gets to grab ahold of the material. Elisabeth Moss and Michael Stuhlbarg are having so much scenery-chewing fun they practically end up swallowing the single location.

[A] thoroughly engrossing documentary.

Featuring superb performances from Tracy Letts and Debra Winger, writer-director Azazel Jacobs has assembled an impeccable ensemble, but his script doesn’t quite have the dramatic acumen to make his Terri follow-up much more than an amusing farce.

Lau’s ambition to strive toward similar aims is worthy of commendation, creating a tapestry of moods of detachment alongside a city symphony of isolation, yet it’s hard to shake the sense that not much new or complex about our modern way of life is conveyed.

Cinema Sabaya attempts to capture the spectrum of the human experience with a simplified conceit. While its reach may exceed its grasp, Rotem’s debut shows the necessity of making space for a dialogue, and how filmmaking is the perfect tool to express ideas that words can’t capture.