Maureen Lee Lenker

With a cast this excellent, there's a capacity for something truly super in a future film — if only Gunn chooses to put the characters' humanity first.

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.

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.

Jurassic Park Rebirth is one of the more successful and satisfying entries in the franchise precisely because it, uh, finds a way to keep Loomis’ mantra close, foregrounding the film’s sense of wonder above a mere blatant cash grab.

[Coppola] crafts an elegy to a Vegas of a different era and the tarnished reality of once sparkling dreams.

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.

Apart from the sci-fi element of the soulmate test, it's familiar fodder for romantic drama, but it's of the highest caliber thanks to its sharp script and devastating central performances.

From its Saul Bass-inspired opening credits to its callbacks to Saturday morning superhero cartoons, it practically vibrates with its sense of time and place.

The movie is well made and it’s a lovely celebration of a real-life hero. But the whole thing feels very predictable, which amounts to a general sense of mediocrity.

As with its predecessor, what elevates Gladiator II in the cinematic arena is the ways its themes and dialogue underpin its outrageous spectacle. David Scarpa's script is also fiercely intelligent.

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).

The Apprentice encapsulates the American Dream, revealing all the ways in which it can be subverted into a nightmare.

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.

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.

This is a portrait of all that an artist must sacrifice for their work and the ways that is amplified further as a female artist. It's a fable of fame and control, but it's also an ode to a woman who could only find peace by singing her heart out.

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.

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.

It's a wildly entertaining love letter to a night of television that marked a cultural watershed.

What makes Freakier Friday so special is that amid the laugh-out-loud humor and welcome fan service, there's also a beautiful film here about parenting, coming-of-age, loneliness, grief, loss, and sacrifice.

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.

Howard, working from a script by Noah Pink, has a lot of plates to keep spinning, including the story's wild swings between outrageous outbursts, sometimes played for laughs, and dog-eat-dog tension. Inevitably, with such an act, a few plates are bound to break.

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 visual effects and animation teams scale a monumental peak here, and their work, at least, is worthy of praise. But Nathanson’s screenplay is a spiral of ever-increasing peril.

It is piercingly honest, remarkably sardonic, and breathtakingly brave in the way it lays bare some of women's deepest struggles and truths. But it is not a film that is anti-motherhood. It celebrates it as well, in all of its primal, animalistic, savage contradictions and complexities.

Megalopolis grants Coppola a dubious honor. In addition to his being the mastermind behind two of cinema's greatest achievements, he's also now the architect of one of its worst.

It’s less a Hawaiian rollercoaster ride and more a winsome, feel-good flick about what it is to find one’s family— and to, in turn, be found.

Despite a trio of knockout performances, The Cut is a lackluster boxing drama.

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.