Rodrigo Perez

The filmmaker clearly has great skills and a knack for pulling strong performances out of actors. But the tone-deaf misjudgment of the film’s second half is catastrophic.

Fierce and unrelenting, Paul Thomas Anderson’s “One Battle After Another” burns as both an incendiary action epic and a tender family drama, alive with humor, conviction, and revolutionary spirit. And amid all its pandemonium, Sergio’s reminder that “freedom is no fear” lingers as the film’s quiet truth, a mantra passed down like a torch. Few films this year feel so vital, so breathtaking in scope and soul. Viva la revolución, indeed.

An electric, sprawling and ambitious effort that's easy to become absorbed by, and a picture that should impress those keen on the director's intelligent, composed and determined brand of filmmaking.

Richard Linklater's Before Midnight isn't the most digestible picture, but its challenging, funny, painful, very present and alive depiction of relationships at 40 is so honest and real that we wouldn't have it any other way.

Uncut Gems is an insane ride with no respite that will grind your senses down to their last nerve.

It’s an incredibly melancholy, intimate and yet often hilarious look at relationships and connection that provides a surprisingly great deal of insight into the human condition. It’s both sweet and considered, as well as observant about our fears, masks and growing alienation.

If you’re open to its unconventional, idiosyncratic flavors, Licorice Pizza is a wonderfully wistful and evocative ode to youth, done by a masterfully poised filmmaker who doesn’t really care if this ain’t your bag. All our welcome and invited, of course, but PTA’s mellow and balmy effort feels like it’s enjoying itself too much to care if you haven’t caught on to its whole-hearted drift.

First Cow is faint, deliberately paced filmmaking where you can often hear a pin drop. But in its tiny way, the modest and gentle little film is moving and poetic.

Come for the blistering, full-tilt action, stay for the thought-provoking consideration of the post-apocalypse.

Holland has made a righteous, masterful work, arguably her best since “Europa Europa,” but it’s not for the faint of heart or those inclined to turn a blind eye to suffering. And again, that’s the point.

Marty Supreme isn’t a moral fable about discipline and sportsmanship; it’s a portrait of ambition as a living, breathing necessity—something Marty must manifest into existence, from his lips to God’s ears. Throughout the madness, Safdie finds an unexpectedly human pulse within the chaos, transforming it into an ecstatic, white-knuckle rollercoaster ride.

Intimate, soul-baring, and winning, The End Of The Tour is a special, lovely little gem.

Kaufman and fellow director Duke Johnson strike the right balance here, deftly mixing spiritual crisis and despondency with moments of painful awkwardness and biting hilarity.

Nielsson’s documentary portrait is a tragic look at the broken political process in Zimbabwe.

The murky moral dimension of the Black Panther world is wonderfully rich and complex and it gives great pause for its new king to reconcile. And yet, all this intricacy is resolved in rather simplistic fashion in the end. It’s just a superhero movie, one might say, but if you’re going to set up this fertile ground, you might want to really follow through.

A heartbreaking and poignant story about choices, country, commitments, sacrifice, and love, Brooklyn is a superb, luminous, and bittersweet portrayal of who we are, where we’ve come from, where we’re going, and the places we call home.

Largely inert and undramatic, what you're left with is a tedious sentiment: “by the grace of god” this horrible crisis ended without violence, explosives, or spark. Congratulations?

The VU feels like it’s told from the perspective of the band members and is always veering far away from talking-head doc standards.

While perhaps not perfect by Farhadi’s standards, About Elly is a classic tragedy that can be devastating and draining, and in that sense is an immersive, almost emotionally exhaustive experience.

As uneven as it can be at times in its last fifteen minutes, Marielle Heller has crafted a super promising debut that evokes the idea of unlocking the secret world of teenage girls and letting us live inside the special little jewel box if ever so briefly.

Rich, layered, and full of beautiful shapeshifting emotional depth—at times laugh-out-loud funny, and then stopping on a dime to turn melancholy, heartrending, and or horrifying—The Banshee of Insherin will surely unsettle audiences trying to pinpoint blame or ascribe a hero or villain to the piece. Its morality and personal sympathies are purposefully opaque.

It’s a sublime little travelogue, deceptively simple, engaging, and thoughtful.

Room has unforgettable, must-witness performances, and its soulful mother and son narrative is one of the most touching dynamics you’ll see in theaters this year.

The filmmakers should take pride in what they’ve achieved, how they’ve earned it, the story they’ve told, and the impeccable, thrilling animation craft that’s collaged, fragmented, and leaps off the screen into your eyeballs. For that alone, they should take a bow.

The Babadook is a smart, respectful horror that puts character and emotional issues first, yet never at the cost of a delightful and haunting fright.

Like the discreet, uncluttered canvass of her works— minimalist, spare, and with just enough inviting details to inspire your curiosity—Reichardt leaves generous space and room for the viewer to contemplate. And I would argue the captivating and delicately considered Showing Up leaves much to consider about why we make art and what we’re trying to say while making it.

By the end, the movie’s harshest argument isn’t only that the government lies—it’s that ecosystems are built to manage the damage of those lies, from intelligence agencies to newsrooms to corporate interests that fear the truth like it’s an extinction event.

Extraordinarily suspenseful, extremely well-told and effortless in its complex tonal balance.

Full of conviction, First Reformed feels like a lifetime of preoccupations and traumas distilled beautifully, accompanied with a haunting sparseness creating a profound deliverance.

It’s a striking and intimate piece of cinema, a heartrending tale of living with and battling neurological disorders, the love necessary to endure it, and the anguished dolor of remembrance.

All of the elements of impressive craft blend to make a wholly unique concoction, a bloody, eerie, creepy and yet thoughtful and emotional exploitation movie about demons, ghosts, black magic and haunted things.

A radically inspired, hyper-fresh, and even slightly overcooked take on the high school teen comedy... “Booksmart” is something just shy of a sensational masterpiece and miracle.

A deeply impressive first film by director Robert Eggers, “The Witch” is immaculately constructed, evinces an exquisitely ominous tone, and is unequivocally haunting. It’s exacting look at the dissonance of human nature is terrifying.

The Forbidden Room is a cinephile’s delight, another Maddin dream fantasia that’s visually distressed, suffused in feverish melodrama, and strangely poetic. Surrender yourself to its demented genius. The Forbidden Room will trap you in its bewitching spell, and you’ll be better for it.

Ultimately, Between The Temples is achingly, evenly deceptively sweet and from the heart. It’s a dexterously comic but moving examination of a life interrupted, seemingly demolished, and a life of unfulfilled dreams, clashing, colliding, and perhaps finding a tender togetherness that suggests second chances and no term limits on coming of age

The Salt of The Earth is a mesmeric and unforgettable look at the world and it sufferings through the eyes of a remarkably insightful and honorable artist.

Political thriller, procedural, emotional drama and rousing cry for basic human rights and values.

Spielberg ever-so-gently presses on the gas of nostalgic idealism enough times that he blemishes what might have been a pitch-perfect movie.

Mond’s film doesn’t feature traditional structure or many familiar character beats of self-improvement, but as a visceral, in-the-moment portrait of struggle and suffering, it’s a striking first film.

Rousing in spirit, surprisingly emotional and visually dynamic, filmmaker Ryan Coogler’s first studio movie, Creed, is a worthy successor to the best of the “Rocky” movies and proves the young director is the real deal.

Brimming with emotional intelligence, the human texture Reeves delivers in Apes separates his film from the rest of the tentpole pack.

Loose, limber and driven by a fierce energy and staccato/pause rhythm we haven't seen previously from this filmmaker, Noah Baumbach's sublime Frances Ha is a fresh and vivacious near-reinvention of the director/writer's comedic milieu.

Poetic and bittersweet, Cmon Cmon is a special film, one that asks us to recognize the mistakes we make, the people we wound, the feelings we hurt, and to maybe give ourselves a break in the process and hold on for what better future tomorrow may bring.

The Spectacular Now is wise beyond its years, charismatic, measured and authentic in its depiction of the pains, confusions and insecurities of the teenage experience, and while its deliberate rhythm may prove to be a harder sell among the teen crowd, it’s a valuable and honest film that’s worth the investment.

Alluring and captivating, Thou Wast Mild and Lovely can’t ultimately overcome its undeveloped arty tendencies, but its hazy exploration of dread and desire is still unique enough to make an impression.

A deliriously quick-footed and orchestrally pitched character study, Steve Jobs is an ambitious, deeply captivating portrait of the high cost of genius.

Make no mistake, Exhibiting Forgiveness can be painful but rewardingly so; it’s complex, unresolved ending all the more honest and true.

It’s a breathlessly told movie; both meticulous and frenetic, sweat-soaked and methodical. It will take hold and won’t let you go, and it’s one of the most engaging movies of the year.

You may not be able to figure it out, but that's part of the point of this sensually-directed, sensory-laden experiential (and experimental) piece of art that washes over you like a sonorous bath of beguiling visuals, ambient sounds and corporeal textures.

Through sheer force of filmmaking will and mediation on what it means to be self-aware, Villeneuve’s towering picture still manages to inspires awe and contains profoundly beautiful moments.

The overwhelming force of The 13th is such that as the movie moves into its third act it becomes more and more heartbreaking in all its countless examples of injustice and abuse.

Weapons underscores how in command Creeger is of his entire movie, the mise-en-scène, the craft, tone, mood and sweaty, ominous, dread-inducing atmosphere. Its final act is batshit crazy and climaxes in a jaw-dropping wave of exhilarating, terrifying feeding frenzy of satisfying comeuppance. Weapons will leave you thrilled, aghast, horrified and wowed.

Get A Job is such a baffling endeavor the callow movie could conceivably come with its own milk carton campaign asking: “Where is Dylan Kidd and what have you done with him?”

Bridge Of Spies is one-third courtroom drama and two-thirds Cold War thriller, and while an engaging watch thanks to fine actors and terrific filmmaking, it’s not without its issues.

Warfare may sharply communicate what it’s like to be under fire, and those looking for bruising action will be exhilarated by the electricity it generates. But anyone asking for some complexity beyond these are the boys that answered the call to go to war will be left decidedly SOL.

Big, wonderfully oddball, sometimes confounding and beautiful, Inherent Vice supplies good dosages of stoner giggles. But its doobage is potent and reflects some heavy ideas you’ll need to unpack and meditate on for a long while.

As usual, Strickland’s latest is delirious, deeply delicious in sumptuous form and sly humor. It’s an oddball film, even for the unusual filmmaker.

It's not particularly funny or moving and it's terribly self-indulgent. Flamboyance and cartoonishness rule, there's hardly a moment of genuine emotion, and most overtures in that direction are superficial. As a picture ostensibly about love, revenge and the ugliness of slavery, Django Unchained has almost zero subtext and is a largely soulless bloodbath, in which the history of pain and retribution is coupled carelessly with a cool soundtrack and some verbose dialogue. Though it might just entertain the sh.t out of the less discerning.

If your basic movie needs demand a little bit more -- logical premises; interesting, marginally original characters; dialogue that doesn’t reek of throaty, aspirational monologue after monologue -- Pacific Rim will leave you feeling hollow and wanting.

Largely exhilarating across the board, ‘Dead Reckoning’ is easily the best installment thus far (at least for this writer who has desperately wanted that aforementioned pulse), and perhaps precisely because the movie is actually about something this time.

“You Have to See It to Believe It” is a well-worn movie cliché, but trust that it applies to this utterly bananas corporeal bath of cinema in all its glorious sound and vision. As the film ratchets up to its batshit, gnarly, and beautifully mutilated conclusion, man, prepare yourself for how transgressive and hypnagogic it gets.

An engaging and initially very promising drama about alcoholism, redemption and forgiveness that grows uneven and long-winded as it progresses.

The Bone Temple does have plenty on its mind about illness and outbreaks—perhaps the sickness that is mankind and the freakshow we doomscroll witness every day— it simply buries those thoughts under layers of bloody viscera and wreckage. That’s the movie’s defining tension: beauty against barbarism, hush against havoc, and the fleeting possibility of grace pressed up against the certainty of carnage.

Transmitting such a deep and moving paean of a band, the music they’ve created, the complex humans behind it, and bow-down respect for the long-haul resilience they’ve demonstrated over years of ups and downs, Wright presents a movie like a superdeluxe mixtape gift, adorned with loving attention to detail, gorgeous artwork, footnotes, and other bells and whistles, that is extremely easy to fall head over heels for regardless of your conversant knowledge of the band or its odd, but catchy music.

The Internship might be the best worst comedy of the year thus far.

Its craft can be impressive: Zobel’s film possesses a searing, slow burn tone that’s beautifully controlled. The movie is admirably patient and gives breathing room and space for these relationships to bloom believably and organically. But the build to a climax is far too slow and with little emotional payoff.

Melding the anxiety of the unknown and the fear of who we truly are in our core, all that we try and compartmentalize emotionally as human beings, Gray crafts a movie that is deeply personal, thought-provoking, and thrilling.

An uninspired narrative and disengaged performances ultimately keep persuasive deep feeling and captivation at a far distance.

Finders Keepers tries to find the humanity in the absurd, and while it surely has its share of moving moments, the conciliation of the sensational and profound is hard to reconcile.

Comedy enthusiasts will love the look back on the groundbreaking magazine, its talented players, and the way the doc captures its irreverent spirit.

Annihilation is mesmerizing and its awe-inspiring conclusion will leave your mind blown and splattered against the wall. In its final, surreal biopsychological moments the movie goes to an astonishing interstellar gear.

Immense, remarkably captivating, imposing, and right on the edge of overblown, filmmaker Denis Villeneuve’s “Dune: Part Two” is a spectacular blockbuster epic in the grandest sense of the tradition.

The Plague is a movie-movie, rather than a genuinely searching or affecting film about that most awkward age when fitting in with a group can seem like the most important thing in the world.

Clinical in nature and matter-of-fact (but still affecting), The Assistant is essentially a procedural about being a personal assistant to a powerful Hollywood man and all that entails.

In truth, the deeply absorbing and thematically rich ‘Apes’ sequel is more akin to a drama than an action film, but it's one that still satisfies the desires and demands of big, blockbuster filmmaking.

Deeply resonant and soulful, Life Of Pi, is a harrowing journey of survival, self-discovery and connection that both inspires and awes in equal measure.

There’s nothing lost in the translation of Fences, but its high fidelity means there’s little, if any, inspiration to be found within.

It’s a beautiful tribute and a wonderful farewell to a legend, father, and artist.

As much as “Top Gun: Maverick” whips from a technical, visceral, thrill-making, supersonic-level, the entire endeavor and every little moment of introspection, suffering and determination is all the more accentuated, strengthened and fist-pumpingly good because you care so damn much about the story, the people and their very human concerns.

Poignant and poetic, After Yang is a soulful and heartbreaking meditation on impermanence full of poignant wonder and riches of human grace.

It’s part raw and ugly character study, part ensemble comedy, but it’s that first element that is so striking, bold and unnerving, while the latter element is sometimes amusing, but familiar.

Junun is Paul Thomas Anderson at his most laid back. Not bothering with instructive context, the picture finds him absorbing the energy of the musicians through their instruments and personas. A scrappy film that never feels precious about itself or its subject matter.

It’s truly a wild, blazing ride if you get on the movie’s bruising, mesmeric wavelength, a tragic but deeply moral film about a righteous, transactional man who has truly weighed and considered the cost of the wicked transgressions committed against his country, his fellow man, and his own soul.

Results isn’t always a successful film, but its philosophies about the myths of perfection as they apply to love are at least credible, funny and well observed.

The Lost City Of Z won’t be for all viewers, but its delicate devotion to itself is something sure to inspire admiration and obsessives.

The heroine of the film may not be in distress, but oh boy, is this movie in desperate need of saving.

A movie about manhood, brotherhood and the unexpected bonds of fraternity, explored in all their brutality and twisted humor, The Sisters Brothers presents the cruel hostilities of the world, the innocence lost in the madness and the possibilities of a humanity still to be found scattered through the debris of American carnage.

Bloodcurdling to the last delicious drop, Nosferatu is extraordinarily compelling, one of the best films of the year, and an unforgettable, phantasmagoric experience for theaters that will astonish.

Perry’s observations of complicated female dynamics are extremely perceptive and the emotional specificity of alienation, disenchantment, and mistrust is wonderfully precise.

Fleck and Boden certainly have strong filmmaking smarts. They understand restraint, have terrific observational eyes, and know how to coax honest performances out of actors. So it’s perhaps a shame that Mississippi Grind is ultimately too underwhelming to stake with any confidence.

The Covenant is so self-assured in its noble filmmaking values and beliefs. It makes a knowing nod between two men— and the heroically punishing sacrifices they risked for one another— one of the most moving moments on screen this year.

‘Sly Lives!’: should we file it under good doc? Sure, it’s very watchable. But does it really unpack the burden of black genius? Well, that is a thing, to be honest. The culture moves on fast and the standards to which black artists are held are always way more ruthless and higher. I’m just not entirely convinced it lands this thesis as well as it hopes it does.

While its ambition does show a director still aspiring for great heights, its patchy execution only partly restores the faith.

Calvary may not be for all audiences, with its pitch-black heart and sober existentialism not exactly commercial stuff, but its unwavering commitment to the intelligent thorniness of its themes, and the masterful control McDonagh exerts over the shifts in tone are worth cherishing, bringing it soaring close to something divine.

The film’s real revelation is that 14-year-old Alfie Williams. For all of the names in the picture, it’s an ensemble built around him, and Williams proves his mettle and will undoubtedly have a long and prosperous career after this film.

Pain & Gain fails at being an entertaining and ridiculously fun Michael Bay movie and curdles into something much more tone deaf and obnoxious.

Saulnier’s overall mise en scene is impressive. Everything from precision camera work, rigorous composition, framing and blocking, nimble, tight editing, and stress-inducing music, Rebel Ridge kicks ass in the best possible sense, entertaining, thrilling, and always captivating.

It’s a lovely, charming, vibrant, sad, bildungsroman tale and roman-fleuve that pays small tribute to Maradona. But more importantly, it manages to both memorialize this agonizing turning point in his life and warmly reminisce on the bliss that came before it.