Peyton Robinson

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

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

Both the artist Lil Baby and the film about him pursue a deeper gratitude and respect for both this rap star specifically and the genre itself.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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 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 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.

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 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.

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.

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

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.

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

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.