Keith Watson

While it offers ample opportunity to admire Benson's body of work, it provides few aesthetic delights of its own.

A jazz-loving kid from a musical family, Williams has been breathing music since he could talk and, though open and forthcoming as he recalled his enduring career, he was clearly happiest when talking about the nuts and bolts of his craft.

Ultimately, She Said is more concerned with eliciting the audience’s admiration than its understanding, its compassion, or even simply its interest.

After a while, it’s hard not to feel like Radu Jude is simply shooting fish in a barrel.

The film is a clunky, overwritten attempt to pack as many tortured subplots and pre-chewed sociological insights as can possibly fit into a two-hour runtime.

By partially demonstrating what a newer, fresher superhero movie might look like, Homecoming ultimately underlines its own genre-defined limitations.

Given that big-studio children’s animation so often feels like it was created by algorithm, it’s refreshing to see a kid’s cartoon like <em>The Last Wish</em> that’s filled with too many ideas rather than too few.

Lukas Dhont isn't really concerned with Lara's journey to find peace and balance, as he's interested only in her downward spiral of crisis.

Director Saul Dibb has infused his adaptation of R.C. Sherriff's play with a striking sense of urgency.

The film is too invested in treacly cinematic optimism for its character dynamics to feel sketched out beyond their basic narrative function.

The film is premised on a radical act that it buries beneath a grueling avalanche of quirk.

While Clio Barnard so masterfully limns her protagonist’s tortured soul, the brother-sister drama at the center of the film remains frustratingly hazy.

The film is a comedy that depicts the difficult period of transition from mourning back into normal life.

Writer-director Nikyatu Jusu’s film ultimately proposes that survival is the greatest form of resistance.

The film dispenses with sensationalism, engaging with Chris Burden's most notorious work on its own terms.

Daniel Scheinert’s film finds a very human vulnerability lurking beneath the strange and oafish behaviors of its male characters.

Kimberly Reed's approach is too bloodless to make us feel the full weight of the injustices her film identifies.

Each brief glimpse of the creature’s fleshy, slithering mass imbues the character drama with an aching sexual desire and, as the violent potential of the entity becomes clear, a mounting sense of dread.

Candyman doesn’t merely note the connection between fear and remembrance, it also interrogates it from every possible angle.

Pixar’s most intimate and laidback effort since Ratatouille feels like a throwback to one of Mark Twain’s rollicking picaresque sagas.

The solemnity of Josef Kubota Wladyka’s film is at odds with the gratuitousness of its violence.

It combines the brooding intensity of a slow-burn thriller with the high-flown ornamentation of a gothic melodrama.

The film gets at the profound truth that our relationship with another person is, at its core, a collection of shared memories.

The film rarely presents a clear analysis of Ruth Bader Ginsburg's victories, reducing her work to empty slogans.

Even if Long Way North's narrative makes for a bland frame, there’s no denying the beauty of the picture it holds.

It begins as a gleeful deadpan comedy and ends up as an exasperated cri de cœur against our current system of industrialized food production and distribution.

It's emotionally manipulative, but its two leads find a core of humanity even in the most calculating plot machinations.