Randall Colburn

It’s a jarring journey, filled with twists that snap and sting like bear traps, and an endurance test, too, especially for the squeamish.

The Day Shall Come remains a riveting watch, though, if only for Morris’ deft, lightning-fast pace and the cast’s mastery of his language. ... The problem is that the film’s humanity is often eclipsed by its big-picture message and satirical edge.

A singular work, brimming with ideas, by a budding visionary with a hell of a lot to say.

While one wishes the beats were a touch more oiled, the film’s strengths reside outside the confines of narrative.

It’s easy to get swept up in Booksmart‘s pace and pleasures, but take a breath and you might find yourself longing for a world that’s at least a touch more familiar.

Us is something of a frustrating watch, a visual and technical marvel that just doesn’t seem to know what it is. Unlike Get Out, which only swelled in impact as you left the theater, Us is best viewed on a visceral level, not an intellectual one.

Ánimas packs a lot into its 90 minutes, and occasionally suffers for it. There’s a dourness to the movie, a self-seriousness that won’t make it anyone’s favorite escapist flick. But while it wears its themes on its sleeve, they remain undoubtedly striking and thought-provoking, especially in an age where the issue of mental illness is being discussed on a global scale.

It’s moving stuff, even if Kore-eda threatens to dilute his themes by overindulging in them. Shoplifters overstays its welcome somewhat as the third act rolls on, with an epilogue that seems to exist only to absolve characters that don’t quite deserve it. The empathy is admirable, but one wishes for a touch more restraint, especially in the wake of such an emotionally devastating climax.

It’s gripping stuff, especially since Goldhaber and Mazzei map out an endgame that’s maintains an intriguing ambiguity while still providing a definitive conclusion.

22 July is a thoughtful, gutting achievement that you’ll likely never want to watch again. Greengrass’ approach here is graceful and deeply resonant, but it’s undoubtedly draining, especially considering you still have roughly two hours to go after the shootings that ignite the narrative

What makes A Prayer Before Dawn so powerful is also what makes it so punishing.

The First Purge is every bit as nakedly, hysterically symbolic as its predecessors. But if there’s one thing that the current political climate is teaching us, it’s that a subtle touch isn’t always the solution.

As was the case with the majority of blaxploitation films, the original Super Fly’s appeal wasn’t in its story so much as the ways in which it carved out an unapologetically black vision that served to capture a particular era in terms of its themes, music, and fashion. X has done that here, but he’s also crafted a crowd-pleasing summer blockbuster that will appeal to the modern filmgoer.

Drew Pearce‘s Hotel Artemis...falls victim to much of what ails any ensemble picture — rushed plotting, forced coincidence, indulgence — but still manages to make a big impression.

You know the characters, the beats, and the general arc. You know how it will end before the first act concludes, and that’s fine. The journey’s pleasant enough.

Hawke is too committed for Toller’s humanity to not shine through. It’s a layered, transformative performance, his gritting, introverted Toller bearing no traces of the rambling, loose-limbed Hawke of Richard Linklater’s canon.

It’s a mess, but a glorious one, the kind of ambitious, unapologetic project that’s most notable for its perspective.

Hereditary‘s horror functions on multiple levels. What we see is undoubtedly terrifying, but it’s how we see it that truly distinguishes the film.

Director Kay Cannon‘s perspective is the film’s biggest asset, as it freshens up the traditional formula’s inevitable focus on love, consent, and orientation in ways that maintain the sub-genre’s trademark raunch.

It is impressive, though, the way the movie works to incorporate new online phenomenons, from Bitcoin to swatting. The latter bit, especially, resonates as one of the film’s most unsettling elements, if only because it feels so depressingly possible. Truly, it’s surprising just how soul-crushing Dark Web becomes after luring us in with so many intriguing mysteries, but, hey, this is the internet we’re talking about.

The careful, strategic navigation of silence and noise is the film’s greatest asset, and when it explores this tension, and the way in which it impacts both the characters and monsters, the result is vibrant, urgent, and innovative.

The Ritual is rich, meaty horror that, despite your feelings regarding its twists and turns, offers up a gripping balance of psychological terror and physical revulsion.

Not all of Killing Gunther lands as well as it should. The humor feels inconsistent at times.

It’s not easy, balancing careful character development and a vivid sense of place with the bloodlust of expectations, but Zahler’s done it here.

Lemon remains wholly original throughout, rendering old themes fresh with its bold perspective. It’s also incredibly funny, even when it’s dunking our heads into the darkness of the human psyche.

Sandberg finds much of his terror in the tension that exists between light and shadow, an unsurprising discovery considering his previous film hinged on the two. They’re used much more effectively here, however.

In building worlds as detailed and vivid as he’s done here, Besson has essentially allowed the setting to do what’s typically reserved for characters and stakes, and that’s to make us care.

It Comes at Night isn’t scary so much as it’s horrific, though Shults is extremely gifted at cultivating the kind of slow, droning dread that inflates in your chest like a black balloon.