Katie Walsh

There’s enough verve in the concept and performances — and in debuting feature-maker Williams’ exuberant direction — to carry Lisa Frankenstein through.

Argylle has bone-deep structural issues on a fundamental level, but it is also a failure of directorial execution from top to bottom, resulting in what has to be one of the most expensive worst movies ever made. It’s honestly fascinating — something that should be studied in a lab.

This is the finest work of Arcel’s collaboration with longtime cinematographer Rasmus Videbæk. They craft this Nordic western epic with an eerie beauty and an eye toward the kind of startling violence that can erupt unexpectedly in lawless frontiers.

The movie strikes that wild, so-bad-it’s-entertaining chord vigorously. I can’t recommend Miller’s Girl but I also can’t recommend it enough.

It’s a surprisingly trenchant story for what seems to be a slight genre thriller, but then again, genre thrillers can be the best vessels for these kinds of messages.

The craft is gorgeous, but The Color Purple would be nothing without its star turns, and Bazawule’s cast takes your breath away.

It is a family-friendly, seasonal, nondenominational holiday movie option, but it’s more fun to pick out what makes this a Mike White project, and his influence gives it a slight edge over the rest, making Migration a worthwhile journey.

It is so much more than just melodrama — it is myth-making on a grand yet intimate scale, a film that attempts to express a small sliver of the Von Erich legend, and beautifully does justice to Kevin’s personal journey.

It’s a thoughtful and complex film that unfolds under repeat viewings and signals the arrival of an exciting new filmmaker.

There may have been skepticism about “Wonka,” but there’s no need to worry all that much, especially not about Chalamet, who gives himself over fully to the wonderment and vocal demands of the role. See it and enjoy it for what it is: a playful, heart-tugging take on a beloved character that’s smarter than it lets on.

This film may be fantastical, outré, at times bizarre, and sexually frank. But ultimately, Poor Things is a traditional heroine’s journey forging its own singular path. That Bella achieves a fully embodied sense of personal liberation makes it a truly radical — and feminist — fairy tale.

What can we impart to future generations? Can we trust them to keep the balance of the universe? These big questions drive the meaning and the purpose of The Boy and the Heron, yet another masterpiece from Miyazaki that helps us to see the beauty of life around us and contemplate the future of the universe more profoundly.

The only time Wish shines bright is when it dares to get a little bit weird.

There’s so much that works about The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes, it’s unfortunate that it’s all been crammed into one overly-long film.

If Thanksgiving had to be any specific dish on the holiday table, it would be stuffing: disparate chunks tossed together and baked. Stuffing is a dish where old bread goes to shine — a cheap and easy crowd-pleaser. But this particular serving of it is missing a crucial element, the binder.

The film flies but never lets any emotional weight fully land.

Like a dream, you’re left with thoughts and impressions to mull over for a long time. These sticky images and profound ideas lodge themselves in place, even if you’re not quite sure they all fit together.

What Happens Later is so deeply heartfelt, and so beautifully performed, that it stirs something within — a hope, not necessarily for an airport rendezvous, but for a moment of healing, the kind that everyone desires and everyone deserves.

Anatomy of a Fall is anchored by the powerfully present Hüller, who bleeds and breathes into the environment, even as she stands out.

Freelance is this incredibly goofy jumble of tones, a movie that doesn’t know what it is or what it wants to be, flailing about as it far overstays its welcome.

Keshavarz spins a lot of plates in The Persian Version and we can see the effort, but she keeps them all in the air.

it is a boring paint-by-numbers ghost movie, a jumble of tropes borrowed from movies like “The Ring,” and a poor facsimile of its influences.

Everyone here really wants to make something good and moving, but they’re all working so hard to make something out of nothing.

The Exorcist: Believer is an exhausting affair, an unrelenting film that attempts to cover up its lack of shock and suspense with a kind of cinematic bludgeoning: a battering delivered via smash cuts, jump scares, overlapping sound design and chaotic camerawork.

Throw in a whole heck of a lot of puns and sand all the edges down so everything is gently charming, inoffensive and just silly enough but not too silly to be annoying.

It’s almost unbelievable that Carney pulls off films like this, which could easily tip over into maudlin. Instead, the winning Flora and Son is an utterly irresistible emotional ear-worm.

The action is messy, the geography indiscernible, and a few shots seem stitched together with but a single pixel and a prayer.

Cassandro’s maximalist image invites a big, outlandish treatment, but Williams keeps the tone quiet and grounded, centering García Bernal’s moving performance and keeping the focus on Saúl, the real person behind the celebrity.