Moira Macdonald

Schultz has a lovely way of telling a just-on-the-verge-of-melodramatic story on a very human level.

These characters don’t seem like types chosen from a screenwriting manual but like people we might know, with quirks and feelings and flaws and hearts.

It’s a movie that, by its serene final scene, changes its viewer. You leave happier, honored to have been, for two hours, part of this family.

It’s a performance that deserves a bigger playground — but this “Mulan” is still a treat, at any size.

You have, I promise, never seen a movie quite like Park Chan-wook’s The Handmaiden. It’s a period drama gone mad; a lavishly colorful, beautifully-filmed-erotic-revenge-crime thriller set in 1930s Korea.

By the film’s poignant final scenes, you feel like you’ve really been somewhere, with a new appreciation of what it means to be home.

Eastwood and screenwriter Todd Komarnicki deftly create tension by twisting time around.

Much of the film’s pleasure is in hearing Morrison speak.

It’s a simple, moving story about love, loss and storytelling itself.

This film celebrates Halston’s work but shows more interest in the man — and the unexpected corporate drama — behind it.

Bigelow has a way of making scripted drama feel like an utterly gripping newsreel. That’s not necessarily all to the good — I found myself wishing for more character development — but you can’t deny the power of the filmmaking.

Filmed in black-and-white shadow, Coen’s version of Shakespeare’s taut tale of murder and consequences in murky Scotland here seems so creepily ethereal it practically floats in the air, with gorgeous language gliding by on the cold wind.

Its honesty and power makes it feel large; you live among these characters in their weary trailer park, aching for them.

The movie’s a playful commentary on overdependence on technology — Wallace has machines that bathe him, dress him and make his tea — but it’s also just fast-paced fun, and you look forward to watching it a second time to catch the sight gags you missed.

Coppola tells the story through lush mood, meticulous art direction, swimmy music (not Presley’s) and her two actors’ gloriously big-screen faces.

Oh yes indeed. Avengers: Endgame brought it...This film had an insanely difficult job to do — to gracefully and tidily wrap up a 22-movie Marvel Comics cycle with a cast list bigger than the Hulk, and to do so with both poignancy and hold-your-breath action — and it delivers.

Burnham, in his debut film, makes some funny observations about growing up in the tech era.... But mostly, with glorious support from Fisher’s symphony of awkward poignancy, he makes all of us remember what it’s like to be 13.

You can imagine how other filmmakers might approach this — it’s a beautifully cinematic story — but no one else would film it quite as Malick has. This quiet, meditative and very deliberate film (nearly three hours long, though not a great deal happens) is at once historical drama, love story and ode to nature.

Fascinating.

The beauty of The Florida Project is how Baker uses a cast of mostly inexperienced actors to tell a story that feels completely, utterly real: You feel as if you’ve slipped inside of Moonee’s enchanted world, while at the same time seeing the harsh reality of Halley’s.

Gyllenhaal here shows herself as a natural storyteller; The Lost Daughter flows like water as its characters navigate territory not often explored in film.

As Kubo warns, early on, don’t blink — you might miss something. Something that — and what a treat this is — you’ve never seen before.

“Killers” is a master class in filmmaking, taught by that one professor we all had in college whose every word we hung on, and whose classes always felt too short. It’s that thing we always look for but so rarely find: a great story, beautifully told.

Oppenheimer is hard to watch, just as that life was surely hard to live; it’s a careful, deliberate stepping toward something unspeakable.

The movie is full of tiny moments of delight.

A holiday gift, it’s bringing some much-needed light to these dark days.

Over its quiet two hours, beautifully punctuated by long shots of sunlit green fields and fireflies flitting at twilight, Minari lets us become part of the Yi family.

It’s hard to watch young Whitney, knowing what lies ahead, but it seems important to do as the film does: take a moment, and just listen to her sing.

Mission: Impossible — Fallout is definitely everything we expected, and more. You might need to go lie down afterward, in a good way.

The pleasure of this movie is in Cody’s sly barbs (the rich brother-in-law’s wife has a dog named Prosecco, and a kid whose talent-show skill is Pilates) and in Theron’s soulful, lived-in performance.

Like the toys of a child now-grown, or an antique lamp gathering dust on a shelf, “Toy Story 4” isn’t needed. But it is, for many of us, very much wanted: one last adventure, one last chance to say goodbye.

The real fun here is in the three central performances, each of which threatens to steal the film (giving “The Favourite,” appropriately, its own balance-of-power issues).

Olivia Wilde’s raunchy yet adorable high-school comedy Booksmart understands a basic truth: For so many former teenage girls, your first love is your high-school best friend.

Pugh, a young newcomer with just a tiny handful of film credits, gives a performance of rare ferocity.

It’s a mesmerizing story, particularly that vivid first half, told with great economy and few words.

As sweet as honey but without the stickiness, Christopher Robin is a gentle delight — for children, and for former children.

Gere, who somehow seems to make himself physically smaller here, creates a character both infuriating and endearing.

Casting a dramatic film with nonactors is always a risky proposition; the fresh, natural presence of “real people” is sometimes outweighed by awkwardness when they have to deliver scripted dialogue. But Chloé Zhao’s dreamlike Western The Rider is one of those happy exceptions.

Filled with sweetly funny moments, “Thelma” is a perfect showcase for the delightfully wry Squibb, whose character constantly reminds us that you’re never too old to try something new, whether it’s takeout sushi or low-speed chasing after criminals.

Feuerzeig lets us put together the puzzle pieces of Albert’s story. The film’s final five minutes — a punch to the heart — make it all clear.

The chemistry between the two actors is a pleasure.

Diana’s a superhero without a chip on her shoulder; she was raised in love, and Gadot lets that belief shine through her eyes. You’re both drawn to this woman and in awe of her.

Guadagnino has explored this territory before...and he’s a master at finding electricity in a glance, beauty in a beam of sunlight, an entire story in the whisper of one name.

Like Kaling’s Molly, Late Night is immensely likable; so much so that you wish it were perfect.

Coogler is a young filmmaker — this is just his third feature, following “Fruitvale Station” and “Creed” (two fine and very different films) — but he marshals this world with confidence and flair. The action sequences are insanely fun.

The movie lets Israel have the last laugh, deliciously so.

Diego Garcia’s cinematography plays a key role, showing us lavender sunsets, endless plains and fire spreading down a hill like melting butter. Amid this beauty, Dano’s direction is restrained, letting us focus on the pain in Mulligan’s darting eyes.

The gorgeous, perfect final shot of Pain and Glory — I might have gasped out loud — will make you feel glad to be alive, and in a movie theater.

It’s impossible to watch this film without a tapping toe and a smile.

Angela Robinson’s fascinating and surprisingly sweet-natured film is a different sort of superhero origin story, and an appropriate bookend to this summer’s “Wonder Woman.”

The Intervention feels confident and accomplished: The cast immediately seems to bond as a group, with each playing a distinctive, recognizable character. And as the camera becomes a discreet ninth guest, you quickly find that you care about these people.

Fred Rogers is gone and the world is a much scarier place; this film, like a gift, briefly transports us back to the calm we felt long ago.

Disobedience unfolds quietly but passionately, with a generosity of spirit toward its three central characters.

Like all of Kore-eda’s films, After the Storm ends with a jolt; not in the filmmaking, but in the way you realize that you were completely lost in the lives of these people and that, as the lights go up, you’ll miss them.

Sometimes, a movie can just make you feel better, and that’s no small gift.

Pike shows us both the strength and the quietly growing fear, as Marie becomes a jittery shadow, her voice getting thicker, more desperate.

King Richard, though perhaps a tad overlong, is as irresistible as the young legends at its center; you watch with pleasure, thinking of the many future champions it might inspire.

Though Wright can’t quite sustain the tension through the final half-hour, Last Night in Soho is full of dark pleasures.

Marshall is a handsome, old-fashioned film about a real-life hero, with a message of equality and justice that always bears repeating.

It’s a lovely, inspiring picture of a crucial institution; one which, as an employee describes, serves as “a warm, welcoming place that’s committed to education and committed to nurturing everyone’s passions and curiosities.”

The Barbie world was a grown-up one — wildly sanitized and outfit-focused and unrealistic, but grown-up nonetheless — and, for a kid, an irresistible place to visit. Greta Gerwig’s exuberantly pink new movie “Barbie” both understands that thrill and has sly fun with it.

The Fabelmans is a movie about being seen — and about learning to see.

In only his second movie as a director, Peele is already a master of tone, and Us is full of memorable, vivid touches.

There’s so much that Black Panther: Wakanda Forever does right that it’s frustrating to blame it for the one flaw it can’t help. But you watch it wondering about the movie that never got made, the story that never got finished, the life cut short too soon. Maybe, in a few years, this franchise can make a truly fresh start; this movie efficiently and skillfully lays the groundwork for that. It takes time, as wise Wakandans remind us, to move on.

By the end, you look at the musician’s faces — particularly Ma’s beaming smile — and find a truth: through music, we can always find our way home.

The Irishman is long, to be sure, but it’s never less than compelling — Scorsese, De Niro, Pacino and Pesci, all in their mid-to-late-70s, are each carrying a lifetime of work, with practiced ease.

Not every moment in the film works perfectly — Matsoukas, on occasion, slips the actors’ dialogue into internal monologue voice-over, which mostly just seems confusing — but Queen & Slim has a remarkable power. You watch it recognizing the world you know, and wishing you didn’t.

You have undoubtedly seen many films that cover, generally, about the same territory as Taylor Sheridan’s Wind River.... But you probably haven’t seen one quite like “Wind River,” a movie less interested in examining the crime than in uncovering the icicle of grief at its core.

Cooper, carrying the movie from start to finish, has a final, devastating close-up that’ll haunt you for quite a while. Darkness has enveloped this man; he won’t wake from his own nightmare.

The drama of Mike Mills’ 20th Century Women takes place in Annette Bening’s masterful pauses.

Feels utterly fresh for our times.

Beginning with its enigmatic title and concluding with a haunting, strange ending, “Evil Does Not Exist” is filmmaking more interested in creating a mood than telling a taut story — but what a mood it is.

It’s a sweet, faintly screwball, faintly Shakespearean look at love, families and what happens when a well-made plan goes just a bit awry.

The fashion alone, designed by the great Jenny Beavan (an Oscar winner for “A Room with a View” and “Mad Max: Fury Road”), is worth the ticket price; if that doesn’t do it for you, there’s also slyly brilliant work from the two Emmas — Stone and Thompson — working hard to upstage the gorgeous outfits in which they’re swathed.

An enjoyably lighthearted crowd-pleaser with a serious message at its core.

Bailey gives a glowing performance of effortless starshine; her singing voice has both sweetness and power, and her smile is the sort on which dreams dance.

Jackie is mesmerizing; a familiar story told from an entirely different angle. It’s voyeuristic, to be sure — the scenes of Jackie alone in her White House bedroom, after the shooting, feel almost unbearably intimate — but you can’t look away.

It feels odd to be evaluating a dog’s performance, but Bing (the canine actor playing Apollo) definitely broke the heart of this cat person multiple times during the film. It’s a pleasure watching him and Watts connect, and to watch a film about so little and yet so very much.

Azazel Jacobs’ His Three Daughters is one of those films that’s so intimate you feel like you’re in the room with the characters, breathing the same air.

Canadian filmmaker Megan Park’s comedy is a touching charmer about growing up, and about that gradual, heartbreaking realization that everything has a last time. If all this sounds a little gooey, let’s remember that this movie features Aubrey Plaza, a wonderfully sardonic performer apparently incapable of goo.

This Beauty and the Beast had me leaving the theater feeling utterly happy; like I’d spent time with old friends who’d grown and changed, and yet remained the same at heart.

Screen chemistry is an odd thing; often you only notice it when it isn’t there. (See: far too many Hollywood romantic comedies.) But Their Finest, an utterly charming film set in World War II-era London, contains a textbook example.

Darkest Hour is a handsome, old-fashioned film, filled with stirring music, dusty light and thoughtful performances — with one whopper of a star turn at its core.

In a movie that reminds us that parenting comes in many forms, it’s touching to learn that the Cayuga word for “aunt” is “small mother.” We almost didn’t need the definition; it’s visible, in Gladstone and Delroy-Olson’s eyes.

All of the performances are vivid (Webber’s ability to convey heartbreak in a silent gaze is uncanny), but Jean-Baptiste, reuniting with Leigh for the first time since 1996’s “Secrets & Lies,” holds on to this movie the way Pansy holds on to a grudge.

Dark fare indeed, and you won’t shake it off easily.

A taut, gripping documentary about one young woman’s dream ... Maiden is wonderfully suspenseful — especially if you, like me, have no idea how the race turned out.

This magic musical seems made for film, full of gloriously elaborate sets — can I please move into that dorm room, or at least borrow a few pieces from Glinda’s mountain of pink luggage? — and action sequences that a stage production can’t duplicate.

The night after I saw Everything Everywhere All At Once I had a dream, in which I took a journey that was chaotic and messy and strangely beautiful. I suspect that dream was heavily flavored by the movie I had just seen, which also fit that description. The dream quickly faded, as dreams do, but the movie is staying with me, turning over and over in my head like stones in a kaleidoscope, ever-shifting.

His name might be a punchline, but his story — and the human toll that it took — isn’t.

The British documentary Dark Horse is a delightful story well told — and, like so many good stories, it begins with a dream.

There are moments in Gleason where it’s very hard — whether you know ALS or are new to it — to look at the screen; moments so devastating you wonder how this couple, and those who love them, can bear it. But there’s also, in this remarkable film, evidence of astonishing courage and miraculous love.

The searing documentary Hooligan Sparrow is a portrait of courage.

Those who love books, picturesque English villages and getting lost in actors’ faces should be very happy

Shot in artful, quiet light (many of the frames look like elegant paintings), The Innocents is beautifully performed by its nearly all-female cast; each nun, even those unnamed, is given her own personality and story.

To paraphrase a song that pops up in the film — of course it does — during one of countless swoony moments, you can’t help falling in love with this movie.

Love & Friendship is pure pleasure, from the lavishly precise sets and costumes to the pitch-perfect tone. It’s self-consciously mannered and merrily playful; a mixture that Austen herself might find just right.

Not all of Hustlers is beautiful, to be sure, but it’s always a kick.