Mike Scott

The result is an unconventional film that exists in a class by itself to this point in 2016.

We get what is easily the most personal and intimate film of Cuarón's career to date. His Roma is a movie with a clear and distinct setting but one that boasts universal appeal. It's also built around a relatively small, narrowly focused story -- but one that deserves to be seen on as big a screen as possible.

There's something Shakespearean about it. From the case of mistaken identity (though willfully mistaken) to the formal, old-fashioned language to the tragic tone in which it is all swaddled, this is Shakespeare by way of the Deep South.

Opening a window into a wounded soul, it reminds us that beneath even the most brusque, hard-to-approach exterior often lies a human being bearing the scars of real, sometimes devastating human experiences. Also like "Moonlight," it is one of the best films of 2016, and one not to be missed.

Gravity, it turns out, is a great film, a technical and storytelling masterpiece that is buoyed by stunning visuals and which functions both as a ripping, tension-filled yarn and as a profound and life-affirming work of art.

The result is a ripped-from-the-Zeitgeist film that is razor-sharp, an astute and funny portrait of the early 2000s, with all its LOL's, its IMO's and its WTF's. Mostly its WTF's.

The result is a film that is at once sobering and thoughtful -- and, yes, uncomfortable, at times. But it's a necessary uncomfortable.

Amour is a far cry from the warm-and-fuzzy version of love that most people are probably looking for on Valentine's Day. This movie is more of a slap than a hug. But reality hurts sometimes - just like love does.

The U.S. government did torture prisoners of war in the name of its so-called war on terror and, by extension, in the name of all Americans. What Bigelow and Boal seem to be arguing is that such actions take a deep cosmic toll on the people responsible -- whether directly, in the case of Chastain's character, or indirectly, in the case of you and me.

It's the little moments in Farhadi's film that are its most important, speaking every bit as loudly as its big, narrative-driving moments.

Not only is the result edifying, but it's also rewarding. And it's a heck of a lot cheaper than a therapy session.

It is engaging, it is intense, it is beautifully shot and it thrusts viewers credibly into the horrifying action from the very first frame -- and doesn't relent until the very last. This being Nolan, he also overcomplicates what is essentially a fairly simple story.

In the end, Mr. Turner ends up being the best kind of period drama. That is, it is a transportive one, whisking audiences away to a distinct time and place, while also providing no small amount of insight about its subject.

Inside Out isn't just a movie. It's a doctoral dissertation on human psychology, with a bit of therapy on the side. Miraculously, it's fun, to boot.

La La Land is a film with strikingly broad appeal. Whether you're a "Star Wars" geek or a hopeless romantic, a jazz fan or somebody who complains they just don't make 'em like they used to anymore, you'll la-la love it.

That humor, like the film's moments of drama, tends to be measured rather than over the top -- but on the whole that's a good thing. It suggests a filmmaker who knows the value of restraint, which is a rarity, particular in a first-timer.

Uncut Gems boasts a kinetic energy that, by the time the closing credits roll, will make you feel like you went to the gym rather than the movie theater.

Inside Llewyn Davis isn't as goofy as 2008's "Burn After Reading," nor as solemn as 2009's "A Serious Man," but it's an embraceable film just the same.

With Spotlight, we get a reminder of the vital importance of an independent, professional press to any community.

It's also a touch tedious at times, as it's not always clear where Oppenheimer is going.

Positively soars.

Simply, this is a story that needs to be told, one that proves that sometimes the past shouldn't be relegated to the past. It also makes The Look of Silence an unassailably essential and necessary film.

Even a flawed Spike Jonze film is a thing of beauty in its own way, and even the uneven but admirable Her is a journey well worth taking.

A great storyteller, however, is one who can entertain an audience in the moment -- but who also gives them something to think about, something for them to take home with them when the story ends, which is exactly what Polley does in Stories We Tell.

The sheer depth of emotion at work in “Nickel Boys” — the palpable anguish, the infuriating injustice, the heartrending loss — more than compensates for any perceived stylistic flaws.

Agata Kulesza is pitch-perfect as the tortured aunt, weighed down by years of shame and sorrow. In a quieter but equally impactful role is newcomer Agata Trzebuchowska as Ida, a character defined by a quiet, rigid stoicism but who, with her cherubic face, engenders great empathy.

Lanthimos' wildly entertaining film arrives as a wickedly funny and masterfully assembled blast of fresh air.

Like "The Hurt Locker," Winter's Bone is a spare but riveting drama with a female director. It is built around a raw, revelatory performance by a young, little-known lead actor.

Merely from a film-study standpoint, it's an interesting exercise.

More than anything else, however, director Jacques Audiard's gritty, grab-you-by-the-shirtfront film is a mob movie -- a really, really good mob movie. Think "GoodFellas," but with Gauloises and accent aigu instead of plates of spaghetti and accent Pesci.

Like everyone else in Russell's cast, Lawrence appears to be having a blast in the role. It's downright contagious.

Whiplash is, at its core, about jazz -- that smoothest, mellowest of American art forms. But don't let that fool you. Writer-director Damien Chazelle's impressive sophomore effort is about as rock 'n' roll as a movie about jazz can possibly be.

Two Days, One Night offers a look into the lives of the everyday workers of the world -- the ones for whom a thousand-euro bonus (about $1,100 U.S.) can solve a heck of a lot of problems.

If viewed as a literal narrative, the post-war German drama Phoenix, with its implausibilities and contrivances, works only so well. If viewed as an allegory, on the other hand, it ends up as something else entirely -- something intriguing, complex and altogether moving.

If nothing else, this is a cinematic high-wire act.

Even with that pedigree, Ponsoldt's film doesn't snap and sizzle as much as it just lays there, leaving moviegoers who haven't been converted to the Wallace cult to long for the end of this particular "Tour."

A movie with undeniable melancholy underpinnings, but Bertuccelli wisely avoids overdoing the drama to nurse cheap tears from her audience.

Even with its flaws, the whole exercise makes for an affecting and effective film.

The only thing missing from the film -- which is frequently amusing but too bleak to be consistently laugh-out-loud funny -- is a genuine connection with its audiences, or at least those audiences not raised in 1960s Jewish suburbia.

I keep finding myself wanting to compare it to 1964's "Dr. Strangelove," Stanley Kubrick's Cold War comic masterpiece -- which, as any movie buff will tell you, is exceptionally high praise. In this case, it's also warranted.

A meticulously shot and sharply written character study, it plays like a blend of the Coen brothers and Quentin Tarantino, borrowing its subtle philosophical core from the former and its sudden bursts of violence and blood-spattering vitriol from the latter. It's also a great film, an entertaining and thoughtful examination of one woman's journey into darkness, as well as a study of the corrosive nature of anger and hate when left unchecked.

There are moments of depth there as well, as Anderson touches on themes of friendship and loyalty. More than anything else, though, The Grand Budapest Hotel is just a fun ride -- a wild, wonderful ride seemingly plucked out of Anderson's dream journal.

A memorable emotional journey -- and reminds us once more why Granik is such an intriguing filmmaker to watch.

One of the chief reasons that director Tom Hooper's richly produced film works so well is because it operates on so many different levels. The King's Speech is all about layers, and Hooper keeps it humming on several at once.

A thoroughly uplifting bit of cinema.

It is strange. It is stylish. It is at once daring, funny, beautiful and surreal.

Imagine Norman Rockwell had he been more of a realist than a nostalgist.

No one should mistake Scott’s Napoleon as an overtly political film. It’s true ambitions are to entertain and inform, in that order.

This being a period drama, all the expected visual grandeur is present and accounted for, from Yves Belanger's vibrant cinematography to Odile Dicks-Mireaux's period-authentic costumes to Francois Seguin's production design.

From the first line of its deep, rapid-fire dialog all the way through to its trippy ending -- which is guaranteed prompt discussion on the drive home -- Inarritu has crafted a film that begs to be rewatched, with the promise of each repeated viewing bringing something new.

A mess of a gay best friend, played brilliantly by Richard E. Grant in what is easily one of the year’s most enjoyable supporting performances. He steals every scene he’s in, injecting the film with a needed dose of lovability that carries it through its narrative lulls.

At some point, Lee as a storyteller must step in to move things along, to dig the rudder deep into the narrative waters and steer this ship. The destination is almost irrelevant - just steer it somewhere.

As mesmerizing as the acting often is, Wolfe’s film is imbued with a certain staginess. Even if you didn’t know coming in that it was based on a stage play, you’d realize it fairly quickly.

This is the kind of movie that will take different people on different journeys. The one common thread is that, for most people who take the time to truly consider it, that journey will be a thoughtful and meaningful one.

What plays out is something like CSPAN 1865. That is, it's dense, talky stuff at times -- particularly at its start, as the film takes a good 15 minutes to gain traction -- but also highly rewarding and instructive.

As is the case with "Amy," there's probably no way any of us could ever truly understand Brando, who often seemed to be living on a different planet than that occupied by the rest of us. But with its anguished first-person voice -- and its permeating sense of sadness -- Listen to Me Marlon comes as close as one imagines is possible.

Chaz Ebert says that Roger would have loved Life Itself. I'll take her word for it. She knew him far better than I did. Clearly. But I'll add this: I love it, too.

A wonderfully weird love story that plays like an adult fairy tale, it's a fantastical delight -- and the kind of movie that deserves all the accolades it will most certainly receive this award season.

Pitt and Hill are fantastic individually, and hilarious when together -- and on a surprisingly engaging script by Aaron Sorkin ("Social Network") and Steve Zaillian ("Schindler's List").

What we get is a an intriguing relationship drama, one that is at times darkly funny, at others thought-provoking, but mostly piano-wire tense.

Like the rest of the film, it's has its laughs and it has its emotion, just not enough of either.

In someone else's hands, Room easily could have become a horror movie. Instead, we get an emotional roller coaster ride -- at turns touching, harrowing, crushing and flat-out beautiful...Along the way, Abrahamson's Room becomes an immensely rewarding film, and the kind of movie that promises to stick with audiences long after the closing credits roll.

A thoroughly and unmistakably modern film so rooted in the now that it's bound to be remembered as a cinematic landmark.

The Red Turtle -- without saying a word -- offers much more than the standard animated film. It offers food for thought, cause for contemplation, and an appreciation for the beauty of being.

It’s Buckles’ first film, and it’s an exceptional debut. Blending archival footage, singular animation and a wealth of interviews, he delivers a vital document that is at once intimate, honest, engaging and indelible.

Granted, it takes a while to get to that point. Nearly an hour, in fact. That's owed to Zvyagintsev's penchant for long, lingering shots, which emphasizes mood over kinetic energy, and which also at times creates a drag on the narrative. That mood, however -- tragic, hopeless, heartbreaking -- is expertly created.

It is a thoughtful film, a serious one, and one that is sneakily affecting.

Sharp, brisk and highly entertaining.

What Anderson's talky and willfully opaque film doesn't have, however, is an unfailingly compelling story to tell.

This is a film your preschooler will sit through, and attentively. Better yet, parents who appreciate the artistry of a well-made animated film also stand to be swept up in what is a delightful little tale.

Admittedly, I'm in the minority here, with many other critics swooning over First Reformed and the big questions it raises. Regardless, the biggest question I had after watching it was simple: What the hell did I just witness?

A subtly innovative blend of cars, guns, music and old-school cool, it's also one of those increasingly rare creatures in Hollywood: an undeniably original movie.

Beasts of the Southern Wild is not only a wonderful story -- a portrait of intestinal fortitude in the face of enormous change -- but it's our story, forged in our own shared recent history and dripping with flood, sweat and tears.

A dazzling, stirring capper to a once-in-a-generation movie franchise.

All in all, Nichols ends up with a richly drawn, and at times disturbing, portrait of one man's descent into madness.

If there's a voice of wisdom and hope in Kapadia's film, it comes from 89-year-old crooner Tony Bennett, whose duet with Winehouse on "Body and Soul" was reportedly her last studio recording before her death. "Life teaches you how to live it," Bennett tells Kapadia's camera in what ends up being one of the film's ultimate morals. "If you can live long enough."

It's a career-making performance that relies as much on charm as on acting ability -- and Mulligan has both.

It's the same fine line that so often separates artfulness and "trying too hard" -- a line that Lebanon tramples all over.

While those aforementioned blockbusters offer a welcome dose of escapism, The Rider traffics in something considerably more affecting: authenticity.

A sweet, thoughtfully composed story, and a darn fine film, to boot.

All of the pieces fall into place by the third act -- or most of them, anyway. But Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is such a cold, unemotional film that getting there is a chore, muting the payoff.

If you appreciate historical melodrama, you could do worse than Vincere.

These characters are so compelling that their stories are easy to get caught up in. As with "A Separation," Farhadi's drama never strikes a resoundingly false note -- which is a precious thing in movies lately -- and as such is a film that promises moving rewards.

This film is undoubtedly a piece of art, as much so as a Picasso painting, one that invites viewers to immerse themselves, scratch their heads and consider it.

A film that is beautiful, harrowing, heartbreaking -- and necessary.

Fred Rogers dared to make a case that all children are precious and that there might be more productive ways to entertain and educate them than with popguns and pies in the face. More importantly, he decided to do something about it.

Fruitvale Station is only the first in a string of civil-rights minded movies set to hit theaters this year -- contributing to what could be the most racially conscious award season in recent memory.

A thoroughly endearing journey, and one of the most enjoyable and touching movies to land in theaters so far this year.

Feels startlingly real and inherently relevant, a shining, sterling example of cinema at its most powerful and urgent.

The film is chilled by characters that never really come alive or generate any deep sympathy.

The resulting slowdown, as well as a significant narrative shift, gives Looper a slightly sprawling and ungrounded feel at times, almost as if the first and second halves are two separate movies.

Like everything else associated with it, the drama of Graduation is decidedly low-key. While that occasionally costs it a sense of forward momentum, it doesn't hold the film back from its ultimate goals. In fact, it contributes to it in some ways.

Not only is it a searing on-the-ground, in-the-fray portrait of the heart of Egypt's ongoing revolution, but it is also a stirring tribute to the indomitable spirit of those who are risking, and in many cases giving, their lives to keep it alive.

At times humorous, at times poignant, but always absorbing.

Not only does it deliver a powerful message, but it is wrapped in an immensely entertaining package.

How do you know when a romantic comedy just isn't working? Key indicators are that your audience doesn't get goose bumps in the inevitable third-act reunion. They don't get misty-eyed. In short, they don't really care.

A documentary that is equal parts sweet science, brutal art and masterful filmmaking.

A simple story about a difficult man, and it's an impressive debut from writer-director Scott Cooper.