Peyton Robinson

Late Shift never loses grasp of its compassion for its lead, but does neglect coloring in the context. Left wanting more, Volpe’s film touches the heart but doesn’t satisfy the appetite for a more comprehensive picture.

Regrettably botched, despite its bold concept at its core, “Slanted” is too simple to make a statement.

Sykes steps into the role enthusiastically, but Miller’s script (with cowriter Anita M. Cal) is beat-you-over-the-head melodramatic, making Sykes’ committed effort to deliver heartfelt pathos all the more difficult to buy.

Amanda Kramer’s “By Design” is an oddball, almost-love story that has more to say about human dejection and desire than a lot of more conventional tales.

It moves at a breakneck pace to get to its primary plot, but neglects the emotional backdrop required to really invest. Indulgence itself is the film’s greatest lack.

Despite an overall unsatisfying resolution to these inquiries, the ideas that the film prompts, coupled with Foster’s nuanced performance, make for a compelling enough character study.

The Testament of Ann Lee is a large-scale production, mighty in detail, and Fastvold proves herself up to the challenge of her own aspirations, tackling the weighty biography with the same sort of labor-intensive dedication characteristic of its subject.

The whole film feels like a production of calling in favors, as the relatively hotshot cast it drew seems incongruent with its content: a clichéd story of a disordered family over the holidays.

The film does not offer excuses for violence, and neither should we; instead, it prompts reflection on where compassion and control are needed and where the pursuit of them falters.

The film grants hope for the women of Iran through its thick-skinned subject, putting her resume and grit on display. But with sharper editing and a bit more eagerness for the personal, “Cutting Through Rocks” would supersede general hopefulness for a more intricate touch to the heart.

The film is true to Gibson’s persona, which is marked by everything you expect from a poet: thoughtfulness, tenderness, and thorough self-awareness.

Iranian filmmaker Sepideh Farsi’s “Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk” is not simply a documentary, but a poignant individual’s record. It is a reminder that every number we see on the news is a complex web of individuality. It’s historical sonder on screen.

A tender romp through time we’ve all seen long departed, and may only relive through children of our own, “Little Amélie and the Character of Rain” begs for the warmth of innocence, even when it pleads too hard.

The moving parts of this thriller are subservient to nailing plot points down on a bulletin of perfectly wound red twine. On account of this, “The Woman in Cabin 10” entertains enough to pass the time, but certainly doesn’t thrill.

It’s a bit of a tropey mess, but the intent is clear: to have fun. And while the fun-having of the filmmaking itself translates well to the screen amidst a few genuine laughs, “London Calling” is mostly stale.

It’s flimsy and forgettable without tension or investment to inspire.

While the film is an informative tale of international politics, it’s also a warning sign and rallying cry for action back home.

Director Kate Beecroft’s Sundance darling “East of Wall” is a stunning portrait of the American West.

With the added threads of female-specific and child celebrity woven through, “Trust” had the potential to be not just thrilling but thoughtful. Yet with an unfocused eye and clumsy pen, it falls way short of the mark.

Hinging on the nitpicking anxieties of the true crime genre, “Strange Harvest” maintains an air of abject horror, even if its penchant for ease nudges focus out of the way.

The primary struggle of Chernov’s documentary is that it leans into the impersonal in an attempt at devastation. It can’t rely on the men as the crutch of the film’s emotion.

The spirit of religious promise that Perione’s film introduces goes quizzically betrayed. What ensues becomes an attempted campy teen thriller, but without the tension or reward.

Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight is inherently bound by its white perspective, but at the same time, it would simply be a different story if not through Bobo’s eyes.

M3GAN 2.0 doesn’t seem to set out to do much more than show off and get laughs, and it accomplishes it well enough. The film is bigger, but not better, delivering precisely what fans of the sassy android will come to the theatres to see.

Stern, herself deaf, crafts an intimate and moving documentary that takes us through the legendary life of Marlee Matlin, uncovering a legacy of advocacy, activism, and perseverance.

The film falls victim to the subtlety of a ten-car pile-up. Neither the characters, all archetypal, nor the sequencing of the story, choppy and ham-fisted, inspire any engagement in its subject matter.

There are laughs aplenty, even as “Sister Midnight” begins to lose creative steam, with the wheels falling off, and the further it falls into the repetitive macabre. But Apte remains the glue holding it all together as the film imagines its prototype of the monstrous feminine.

The true heart of “Swamp Dogg Gets His Pool Painted” is not simply the impressive biographical bullet points, but rather the gift of witnessing its subject being unapologetically himself.

Magic Farm is eye-catching with its high saturation and punchy editing choices, but the seduction of bright and bold visuals is incompatible with Ulman’s unwieldy script. Her hands are full, and oftentimes clarity slips through her fingers.

For non-French audiences (or those not well versed in world politics), many references and soundbytes can soar over the head, but “The President’s Wife” is most concerned with uplifting its lead lady in all her schemes, sarcasm, and competence, and this it does well.

Putting on display the day-to-day reckonings of Palestinian life under violent Israeli occupation, Nabulsi’s film touches the heart but loses grip on the mind as it journeys to juggle more subplots than its hands can handle.

Bob Trevino Likes It is overly convenient but touching, nonetheless.

Berk and Olsen accomplish a formidable action-comedy, one that puts their horror roots in neon lights and sense of humor on equal display.

The pacing works referentially to its namesake and real-time ambition, but the characters aren’t quite interesting or engaging enough to sustain attention for the whole runtime, and the film’s crawl eventually wears on weary knees.

Heart Eyes is a raving good time. As a Valentine’s Day flick and a horror picture, it lands for fans of all kinds: those who seek warmth, wrath, or both.

Hancock’s film is not revolutionary nor particularly thoughtful past the outline of its concept. Regardless, it’s an enjoyable romp in the sci-fi horror sphere.

One of Them Days satisfies like a high-five landed after three whiffs: a rewarding win on account of the stumbles it took to get there.

Uniting with a star-studded trio – his brother John David Washington, Samuel L. Jackson, and Danielle Deadwyler – Washington's study of inheritances (trauma, wealth, and history) is a powerful portrayal of Black lineage in America.

With less textbook dedication to its metaphors and more sleight of hand in its structure, “Cellar Door” would accomplish the tension it intends, but its bland approach fails to inspire investment.

Kaphar’s film bloats its runtime, with a handful of conversations going back for seconds on a full stomach, but it still manages to be utterly moving, entrusting its cast completely with carrying its ideas to touching fruition.

It’s What’s Inside is a fun jaunt through the dynamics of a friend group and the interiorities of its members, even as it sanitizes its potential.

Writer-director Shuchi Talati’s feature debut, “Girls Will Be Girls,” is a profoundly moving document of generational girlhood.

Uglies is an Orwellian tale with weak conviction. Among its contemporaries, it’s a disappointing volume in the YA dystopian canon.

It’s passable for an easy watch and some uncomfortable chuckles but is bearable only on behalf of Hunter’s loyal antagonism while falling short just about everywhere else.

Seeking Mavis Beacon is utterly creative, a documentary that reflects the state of the Internet as it stands, and as it turns a mirror on its makers.

Blink Twice sucker punches the audience with its sexual violence and then fails to find intelligence or dexterity in its handling of it or any of the themes running adjacent.

The Union delivers tonal whiplash on account of its failure to exceed at either end of its genre attempt at action-comedy.

Sugarcane is soul-shaking. It’s profoundly evocative, with spoken memories and moments of inability to muster the words gut-punching with equal measure.

Peak Season feels like a bunch of friends making a film; at times, this intimacy and dialed-back scale is charming. At others, it pokes holes in the facade of the fourth wall, and immersion is lost.

Even with a shaky conclusion, the swarming warmth of Riegel’s direction and the meditation of her writing results in a film that displays the fleeting, volatile kind of love that forces you to grow - the kind the greatest songs are written about.

The Nature of Love is a rom-com for the ages, examining the confoundment we find when trying to understand our deepest human feelings, and doing it with the deserved spectrum of “oohs” “hahas” and “oh gods.”

Copa 71 is stirring, exciting, and lively, a kinetic tale that finally spotlights the revolutionary event that didn’t quite turn the tide but certainly started the wave.

This idea of shopping local takes new meaning and adheres to the heartstrings as the credits begin, but much of the detail fails to make an impact, and “She Rises Up” becomes largely forgettable.

Based on the book by A.M. Shine, “The Watchers” is Ishana Night Shyamalan’s directorial debut, a fabled narrative that seesaws between fantastical whimsy and proposed horrific terror with lots of ambition but little finesse.

Through Dupuis’s eye, this story is empathetic and involved, and this feeling persists despite disorganization’s attempt to shake its structure.

Taylor-Johnson’s film, penned by Matt Greenhalgh, is concerned with Amy the addict, making “Back to Black” a dreadful, dastardly attempt at a biopic.

Gasoline Rainbow feels like a living, breathing, laughing organism. It’s not a caricature of Gen-Z nor a wishful document of what we may hope or theorize 2020s youth to be, and the Ross brothers’ largely hands-off technique allows this to thrive.

Marks’ “Turtles All the Way Down” shines with John Green’s trademark whimsy. It’s a charming, delightful YA romance that doesn’t bind itself to the sole enjoyment of its target market.

Omen excellently captures the feelings of both cultural and generational alienation. In script and performance, there is never a moment of certainty.

Minhal Baig’s “We Grown Now” is a film masterfully tied to the emotive potential of place.

Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead is laid-back and funny but ultimately whiffs on its swings too many times to make a lasting impression.

In choosing Neil as the center of Ella’s story and uplifting heavy scenes while skating through more grounded moments, “A Bit of Light” relies on artificial emotional investment and neglects the nuance and power of mundanity.

Shirley views itself as a punchy, exciting political dossier, but lacks the attention to detail to make it anything other than a historical summary.

Imaginary is utterly forgettable, bland, and directionless, ironically so, as for a film that lauds the power of imagination, it shockingly neglects the very element of its own ethos.

The story of “Shayda” is moving, though ordinary. The spectrum of emotion is captured, from tension to joy to despair, but the way the film moves through them is plain at best and bland at worst.

Perhaps with less questions left unanswered, “Drift” would permit a more sympathetic lead, but the flatness and flippance of its context leaves everything on the surface.

More than anything, “How to Have Sex” is masterful in showcasing the drive and apprehension of sexual coming of age.

Tōtem is an all-encompassing tale of anticipatory grief. It’s a gentle caress of a film, the type that touches you with pitiful care, leaving you with a consequence of comfort and sadness, but also the knowledge of being seen.

Even with the world-building and direction making for an immersive experience, at times the script gets tangled in its own complexity and “The Kitchen” bites off more than it can chew.

An action comedy with feeble fight scenes and little laughs creates a film that feels more like a screen test than a finished product.

Blitz Bazawule’s new film combines the best aspects of each disparate form, structuring a stunning hybrid that combines the visceral meditations of the written word with the thunderous energy of musical performance.

American Fiction trips over its own feet in its final act, stumbling between daydream sequences and multiple storylines before finding a final, underwhelming resolution. But the attentive lens that the film devotes to its concept and themes is what will be remembered.

The spirit of competition, in both its heart-racing fulfillment and overwhelming drolls of anticipation, is felt in the thoughtful execution of Pianoforte.

Good Burger 2 is a sentimental slapstick sequel chock full of fun cameos and absurdity, yet it doesn’t divert itself enough from the familiar path. It serves up little more than nostalgia, with some solid laughs but too little that are memorable.

As much as Henderson is looking for answers, she’s demanding an appreciation for the implication of asking. She doesn’t seamlessly connect her investigations into Levi, Yucca Mountain, and Las Vegas history, leaving parts of the documentary feeling disjointed, but the effort is emotionally recognizable enough to leave you with impactful questions of your own.

Rustin was undoubtedly made in admiration of its subject. Yet, with a stale approach to its plotline and confused narrative priorities, the film is more like an educational outline than a spirited story.

As Olfa and the sisters give perspective on their shared trauma and heartbreak and discuss the underlying principles of it with each other and the actresses, what ensues is not simply the story of a family but a tour de force examination of women’s place in the world and the costs of how they choose to cope with it.

The Persian Version pulses with personality, striking an excellent balance between humor and heart.

Dark Harvest misses many beats necessary for a fully realized narrative. And yet the concept and its action-driven execution make a fun watch with some laughs of incredulity.

Through interviews with women on all sides of the issue, “Plan C” paints a well-rounded picture of their operations but struggles with where to direct its focus.

The opening moments of the first act are rendered as the film’s best, as No One Will Save You continues to fall apart due to a frustrating lack of narrative context.

In capturing Hardison's breakthrough as a model to her trailblazing as an activist, Invisible Beauty is profoundly inspiring and thoroughly adoring.

There's an overall lack of thoughtfulness in The Nun II regarding scares, and Chaves is vehemently loyal to oversaturated tropes. The movie starkly neglects creativity and, in turn, lacks effective fear.

It is a stunning mood piece that takes pride in its stillness and slow pace, ultimately delivering a tale of intimacy, searching, and quiet strength.

Where the central four characters' friendship and intersecting romantic relationships are meant to be the film’s grounding center, there's nothing but flimsy connections and dead air. There’s no chemistry between the characters and no genuine feeling in their performances.

The Pod Generation is thoughtful and timely but flat, an opaque expression of an overly simple thesis.

Corner Office is a sometimes-funny satire stuffed with capitalist ennui, but it bites with dull teeth, failing to provide enough support for its sentiment to stick.

Brother is a portrait of Black youth pitted against forces beyond their control.

With a repeated sourness in the film’s comedic efforts and a tragically misused ensemble, Haunted Mansion misses the chance to become a Halloween classic.

Bolstered by expert empathy, understated direction, and evocative performances, Earth Mama highlights resilience while whispers of social misogynoir are incorporated without abandon and confronted head-on by the film’s women.

From director Hubert Davis, Black Ice is an icebreaking expose on the influence and oppression of Black athletes in Canada’s most treasured sport, hockey.

The project of Anthem is special and compelling, but the documentary lets itself down.

The hazy horizons and warmth of the Wild West lend to stunning cinematography, but the bones of the visuals are not enough to support the film. Mandler’s direction is effective for the genre, but there’s a fatiguing number of posed cowboy-against-the-horizon shots that begin to feel kitschy on account of their frequency.

The Blackening is an unapologetically Black comedy through and through. It maintains its wit and bite to the very end, boastfully serving audiences a hilarious film we didn’t know we needed.

The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster is a soulful, bloodied cry for control.

The strength of the film is its heart, and Summer’s relationships are used not only narratively, but structurally. With frequent narration from Summer’s daughters, and a heavy focus on their childhoods with a loving but distant mother, their desire to understand her beyond her parenthood and into her personhood is the the movie’s foundation.

One True Loves is so frustratingly superficial that it fails to gain a modicum of sincerity.

What begins as a thorny meet-cute turns into the longest unofficial first date ever, unfolding into a survey of the difficulty of moving on and the joy of quick connection. Rye Lane is a playful rom-com for the modern age.