Maureen Lee Lenker

Without Ronan's towering talent, The Outrun could easily be a trite addiction drama. But Ronan, cast against the backdrop of the sublime, evocative Orkney Island landscapes, elevates the film to a moving tale of overcoming one's demons and learning to savor life as it comes.

Like the butterflies and pockets of natural beauty that Bailey is drawn to, there are glimmers of potential in Bird. But it never fully manages to take flight, leaving its provocative conclusion more jarring and confusing than revelatory.

It gracefully captures the remarkable, singular relationship that human beings share with their pets, tapping into the poignancy and warmth that comes from such a bond.

In Madison, Baker has found a perfect conduit for his ideals, making Anora a culmination of the themes that have dominated his work for years.

There are glimmers of insight here, often in the brighter moments (for instance, the sweet story of how Pharrell devised his massive hit, "Happy," and the emotional response triggered by its success). But despite touting an inventive concept, the whole thing remains fairly surface level.

With their abrupt violence, grotesque body horror, and mordant sense of humor, all three of the stories feel more aligned with Lanthimos’ earlier style, The audacity that has so defined Lanthimos and Stone’s work together remains, but here, it takes on a nastiness that becomes tedious the longer the film stretches on (and on and on to a nearly three-hour running time).

There’s no desire to interrogate her artistry or to grant a portrait of what made her tick. In this rendering, Winehouse is made up purely of audacity, vocal theatrics, and addiction-fueled behavior. When it comes to this surface-level exploitation of Amy Winehouse’s life, just say no, no, no.

It’s clear those behind The Idea of You hold a genuine affection and care for the story, rather than the ironic eye that a book like this could so easily invite from a lesser team.

The Fall Guy offers a potent blend of action and romance, as refreshing as one of its touted “spicy margaritas.” Sure, it’s got a little kick, but mostly, it exists to ensure that anyone who consumes it has a fantastic time.

Anchored by three arresting performances and playfully experimental direction, Challengers is fresh, exhilarating, and energetic.

As it did in 2004, Mean Girls is a playground for a melange of fresh, new talent for whom we hope the limit does not exist. Did we really need another film version? No. But it’s pretty grool that the one we got is such fun.

The film does not valorize Ferrari, but it doesn’t complicate him either. And while its racing sequences are exhilarating, it should have spent more time looking under the hood.

With stellar performances and the foundation of a beloved novel, The Color Purple should be as lush and beautiful as its titular hue. Instead, it’s just… here.

In addition to committing to its sense of fun, Wonka reminds us that life is made sweetest by the people we share it with. If that’s not particularly novel, it’s still as comforting and scrumptious a notion as a chocolate bar.

Fincher is adept at excoriating the darkness of the human soul, but he's missed his mark with a character so blindly determined to prove he doesn't have one.

Priscilla is incisive in its portrayal of its central relationship, but it needs a little less conversation, a little more action when it comes to its heroine's path to self-determination.

There are interesting concepts at play in the ways Fingernails explores loneliness and desire. Notably, the test doesn't account for long-term compatibility but the more intangible presence of love. But the film doesn't go far enough in the ways it questions the science and accuracy of the test.

Amidst all this, Venice is also just a heck of a lot of fun, from its eerie Venetian mask costumes to the intriguing ways in which its central mysteries unfold. With heaps of atmosphere and a general spookiness, it's the perfect choice for a Halloween party.

Costanzo wants to tell a story set in the past, but he doesn't spend enough time fine-tuning the particulars that make period pieces feel vital rather than stagey. Additionally, at 140 minutes, the film is self-indulgent in length.

It is quite the tale of heroism and courage in the face of adversity, as well as the importance of teamwork and never giving up. But that is all diluted with so many things at play.

The broader recognition of Rustin's efforts may be long overdue, but that doesn't mean a cinematic rendering of his life should feel as dated as our nation's own historical shortcomings.

Though the panoply of accents the actors choose could easily fill out a Midwestern grocery store checkout line, there's not a performance here that isn't admirable for its sheer chutzpah. Nichols has assembled an estimable ensemble, and they bring to life the antics and erratic violence of their characters with great authenticity.

Films (and novels) are meant to reflect our lives back to us, to hold up a mirror and give us a way to engage with the more thorny issues of our existence via storytelling. Triet is both inviting us to do that with Anatomy of a Fall and warning against putting too much stock in the stories we read and tell ourselves (or is she?).

The Zone of Interest is a formalized and frightening Holocaust film, largely for the ways it displays the Hoss family as merely human beings. It's a stark reminder of our complicity and the capacity for great evil in the most mundane of circumstances.

For all its hilarity, explicit sex — which, for the record, is a) extremely sexy, b) earned, and c) hysterically funny — and foul-mouthed dialogue, Poor Things is a romance about a woman learning to fall in love with herself, no matter what others think she should be.

Grief is a funny animal; it tangles itself in our organs and sinews, permanently altering how we love, how we see ourselves, and how we make sense of our identity. That's what Haigh is unraveling here, with a bittersweet emphasis on the power of love and its ability to transcend even death itself.

Life is messy, and The Holdovers never loses sight of that truth. But the film never becomes self-indulgent either.

The film is not for the faint of heart, but it is viscerally compelling and unafraid to luxuriate in its own elegant weirdness. Its endless visual and literary layers will bring its ardent admirers back to it again and again, because it is a triumph of the cinema of excess, in all its orgiastic, unapologetic glory.