Luke Parker

The Irishman is delicately handled by experienced, especially-inspired makers. It’s simply the kind of film that isn’t made too often anymore; and it’s one of the best this year has to offer.

In spite of a momentous directorial debut and performance from Bradley Cooper, Lady Gaga leaves the lasting impression in A Star Is Born, a beautiful production perfectly suited to re-release the superstar as a top-tier performer; she is nothing short of astounding.

A rebirth for both actor and director, Pain and Glory sees Banderas and Almodóvar at the peak of their electric, heart-wrenching capabilities.

This beautiful work pays an immaculate tribute to him, illustrating the legacy of a man whose nature transcended the concepts of knowledge, understanding, age and love. Fifteen years after his death, the heroic and criminally under-appreciated efforts of Fred Rogers are finally being celebrated on the big screen in what may very well be the best documentary of the year.

Once Upon a Time in…Hollywood is a wistful fantasy fueled by a series of top-grade performances, a stampeding collage of Tarantino-isms, and of course, a happy slathering of movie magic.

Olivia Wilde’s directorial debut bursts outward with neon electricity, encompassing, even if overcooking, the teenage tropes levied by similar films of the past, while also staying deeply rooted in the here and now.

Toy Story 4 is as mediocre a Toy Story movie as there is and probably can be, but it also marks another unbelievable triumph at Pixar in their never-ending quest to realize the imagination.

The best ensemble cast of the year live through Steve McQueen’s Widows, an entertaining, intelligent, but altogether familiar rendition of the heist film.

First Man hardly comes close to capturing the overwhelming triumph behind Neil Armstrong’s lunar explorations, though the journey to get there is technologically masterful.

The Lighthouse boasts and thrives off of a maritime rap battle between Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattison, whose claustrophobic journey together towards madness is among the sickest and most memorable collaborations in recent memory.

Spike Lee offers no solution here – his story’s conclusion, in the long run, hardly ends on a positive note – but rather a very, very loud plea that cannot be ignored.

For 130 minutes, the writer-director disorients and delights, confidently trailblazing through his murder mystery two, maybe even three steps ahead of the audience. This isn’t a simple, direct testament to the slick, sidesplitting script, nor the fully committed, second-to-none ensemble, but rather a passed inspection of these cogs and their ability to form a purely entertaining experience.

As a timely testament to our willingness to validate and support rather than investigate, White Lie is both insightful and terrifying.

Any misgivings bestowed upon Ford V Ferrari by the script are, more or less, eliminated by the film’s big draw: the racing. Gloriously calibrated, simply designed, and modestly edited, audiences are reminded of the dynamite, nearly natural relationship automobiles share with filmmaking.

Any hint of sappiness in the neighborhood is squashed by Hanks’ paralyzingly delightful turn as Mister Rogers in A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood.

Though The Highwaymen makes sure it tells the right story about Bonnie and Clyde, it doesn’t win the argument that it tells the better one.

Elegant and entrapping, muddy and magnificent, Monos is a thrilling, if ambiguous endeavor of guerilla warfare, human nature, and adolescent anarchy.

Endgame is the superhero equivalent to an original cast revival in a long-running Broadway show, and often has the same hair-raising effect.

Driven by Stanfield’s performance, an intelligent story, and an even more impressive structure, this film is as funny as it is bizarre, and as bizarre as it is clever. It succeeds enough early on that Riley trusts he’ll hold everyone’s attention as he jumps off the deep end.

Dolemite Is My Name belongs to Murphy.

While it takes a few too many cues from similar coming-of-age tales, Honey Boy offers audiences an egoless dissection of Shia LaBeouf’s side of his own story.

A simple and simply satisfying seal, El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie will, in no way, tarnish the alchemic legacy of its TV precursor, though it doesn’t do much to enhance it.

Ari Aster continues on as filmmaking’s ringleader of grief in Midsommar, an unsettling, often shocking portrayal of cultic life that’s rich with both ambition and beauty.

[LaBeouf is] one of the few actors capable of turning this protector companion on the page into a layered role.

A fantasy in nearly every sense of the word, Rocketman reaches for and grabs hold of the stars so often that the dazzle occasionally becomes too much to handle.

Michael Moore points all 17 of his fingers in all directions during his latest ferocious, if scrambled film, surprisingly avoiding individual attacks and instead convincingly describing what role we all played in this globally-recognized disaster.

Doff’s directorial debut bursts off the screen with eccentric energy and yet, retains a relentless sense of duty to the company its characters keep. It’s effectively touching as a display of camaraderie, equally ridiculous, and a great deal of fun.

Feig, who’s been known to conjure up categorical spoofs (Spy, Bridesmaids), throws up Fincher-like curveballs, each one more disturbing than the last, only to strike out in the ninth.