Rodrigo Perez

Featuring two exceptional lead performances from these two boys, first rate beauty-in-ugliness photography and an unusually extraordinary command of tone, Carbone’s picture skillfully articulates the inexpressible.

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.

This terrific and sublime experience, and strikingly original film, is mandatory watching for the adventurous viewer.

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.

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.

Immersive and committed to its austere form, the solemn, often-dialogue free Dark Night never spoon feeds and always allows the viewer to draw their own conclusions.

Resurrection is emotionally searing, wildly unhinged and maybe even a little batshit crazy. However, as anchored by its two fiercely committed and convincing lead performances (Rebecca Hall and Tim Roth), a menacingly disquieting tone, and a frightening ambiguity about a disintegrating mental state, Resurrection is a deeply distressing and compelling drama that will shock and shake you to your core.

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.

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.

It’s disturbing and engrossing. It doesn’t fully grapple with every moral, political, or philosophical consequence of the AI rush, and there are moments when it arguably lets some of its most powerful interview subjects off the hook too easily. But it still lands because it understands the essential terror at the center of this conversation: not simply that we are building intelligence at breakneck speed, but that wisdom—human, moral, civic—may be arriving nowhere near fast enough.

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.

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.

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.

The film’s anger is muted but unmistakable. “Thoughts & Prayers” is about a nation that would rather teach children how to hide, how to bleed, how to die — than pass even the most modest gun reforms. It’s about an America that keeps choosing adaptation over prevention, ritual over change, and performative sorrow over meaningful protection.

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.

Tipping’s bold and meditative drama with its reflective moods and streetwise grime has delivered one of the best feature-length debuts of 2016 and one of the best films of the year, period.

A stunning, often flooring masterwork about desperation, writer/director Tim Sutton’s, “Donnybrook” is a brutal elegy for those living on the forgotten fringes of America.

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.

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.

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

Mangold has crafted the definitive portrait of this era and the poetic, aspiring, rebellious kid who refused to be pigeonholed, held down and defined.

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.

Paper Tiger may be built from recognizable Gray pieces, but he keeps finding new variations inside the same mournful blues. The result is familiar in outline, but authentic, poignant, and quietly devastating.

Enemy is a transfixing grand slam that certifies Villeneuve as the real deal and one of the most exciting new voices in cinema today.

Friendship is awe-inspiringly twisted by the end, a jaw-droppingly comical tale of tragedy, even. But it is masterfully rendered; the rare movie seemingly built from a sketch series turned into a genuinely riotously amusing and f*cked movie that still has the sense to comment on the dark and totally warped corners of the human condition.

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.

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.

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

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.

Anxious and tightly-wound like “Citizenfour,” with similarly shocking and disturbing content, (T)error is a gripping parallel investigation of illegitimate counter-terrorist stratagems that not only considers the moral consequences of informing, and the wider troubling landscape around it, but does so from a deeply intimate and remarkable perspective.

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.

Delightfully twisted, Thirst Street takes the ideas of desire, romantic longing and desperation — desperation as the world’s worst cologne — and bathes it in a sheen of frosty colors, genuine vulnerability and sardonic unkindness.

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.

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.

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.

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 compelling, lovely little journey about friends reconnecting and rediscovering each other in a portrait that’s tender, humorous, considerate, and more than deserving of your attention and care.

An epic coming of age journey with scale and spectacle, and rousing heart, Mulan, is a triumph and essentially boils down to a wholehearted tale of feminine resolve, proving the boys wrong and making a father proud while being true to one’s self. That sounds a little simplistic, but Caro’s movie has surprising layers, of color, contour, and shade to shape her magnificent new empowering fairy tale.

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.

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

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.

This is a film that’s wantonly absurd and even silly, and yet, bubbling underneath it all, Clara’s Ghost never takes its eyes off its protagonist or our empathy for her even when she pushed to the edge of the frame both literally and figuratively. And Niedert Elliott’s performance is haunting, perfectly capturing that ambiguous space between comedy and drama that gives the movie its edge.

Mordaunt’s eye indicates a thoughtful filmmaker able to listen to the winds of what a movie needs. Effortlessly natural, his workmanlike craft carries the capacity to keep an ear open to happenstance.

Good Fortune is a refreshing comedy that audiences haven’t seen in a while, a movie with a message that both advocates for a cause and entertains.

Meticulously crafted and investigated (and no doubt heavily vetted by lawyers), Berg brings a sobering solemnity to a very grave matter, but also lends a dignity to its subjects without pandering.

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.

Lowery is the real deal and understands filmmaking, and this is abundantly clear in this searing, romantic crime drama and love story.

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

The Baltimorons is terrific and features an excellent mix of humor, sweetness, hijinks, hilarity, warmth, wistful melancholy, and charisma that’s off the charts, both in the actors and the movie itself.

Alvarez’s clinical but deeply engrossing execution of the drama is mesmerizing in its directness.

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.

Gemini is deliriously entertaining, an intriguing gem and as Katz graduates to the next level, his best film to date.

Trenchantly reflecting on the mishandling of success, blind ambition, idolatry, hero worship and the complex and competitive nature of artists in romantic relationships, Listen Up Philip is brilliantly chock-a-block with resonant observations.

The picture is often graphic and pulls no punches in its disturbing violence, but its unflinching nature gives it a memorable sear that won't soon be forgotten.

It’s bleak and uncompromising, but it’s a hell of an experience.

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.

There’s tremendous social and moral texture throughout the drama, but the socio-economic commentary of the movie is fabric, not heavy handed accessory. And the provocative ethical breaches—savage and scathing in the latter half—give the movie its delectable and wicked bite.

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

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.

A wonderfully eccentric examination of unlikely friendships that illuminates the absurd and lovely corners of life, Prince Avalanche is a deeply enjoyable, wondrous delight.

As warped and sadistic as Entertainment is, its brilliance is in the embrace of humiliation and failure, and the way it forces us to confront and sit with those embarrassing, uneasy feelings.

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.

Goodbye To All That is not going to impress the visual, form or style cinephiles of the world, but it really shouldn’t matter. The content is tops. And as an astute and empathetic portrait of human crisis, resolve and survival, it’s a wonderfully authentic and perfectly touching one.

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.

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

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.

“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.

Ultimately, Aster just unleashes his inner freak and vomits it all on the screen, with anxious flop sweat, jittery bodily fluids, squishy terror, paranoia, and some gut-busting laughs that prove this writer is deeply troubled in the best and most complicated odd way possible.

An absorbing office saga and diverting dark comedy, Zero Motivation is a surprisingly insightful coming-of-age tale, utilizing the milieu of the military to look at desire, loneliness, identity, fitting in and many aspects of everyday complex female life.

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.

Brimming with wit, crushing last-act melancholia, laughs, and poignant heart, Me And Earl And The Dying Girl is a spectacular delivery of tears, love and laughter, and a beautifully charming, captivating knock-out.

Trier crafts a drama that is sublimely ambiguous, austere and also deeply sad and heartbreaking.

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

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.

Crafted with stillness, empathy, and clever drollness, “Fremont” is so striking it will simply and calmly demand your attention. So seemingly introverted, humble, and unassuming, it’ll force you to lean in, listen and heed all the humorous words of wisdom in its many little moments of providence.

Thunderbolts* isn’t an MCU game-changer, by any stretch, but it’s not aspiring to be either. Is it a two-hour therapy session about self-compassion, being kind to ourselves, and giving ourselves a break from all the transgressions we have tortured ourselves about, wrapped up in a comic book movie? Maybe, but it’s got a big heart, a strong emotional point of view, a good sense of humor when needed, and has something touching to say about forgiving ourselves enough to transform our pain into something that can do good, and that feels like a small but meaningful victory to me.

Ultimately, The Suicide Squad is a tale of beautiful losers discovering their humanity in a brief, inspired moment of convergence, finding hard-fought salvation in each other and the notion that all of us are always worthy of dignity.

Send Help is pure Raimi: a survival thriller that disguises itself as corporate satire before mutating into something far nastier and more fun. It’s ridiculous by design, walking a razor’s edge between menace and mockery, and it thrives in that instability.

A sinister dread pulses through Bridgend, one that is engrossing and terrifying.

Carry-On works because it keeps it simple, because of its no-fuss-no-muss approach and two actors who can really elevate compelling material. Sometimes that’s enough.

Blackhat is a meticulous and exacting procedural, as obsessive with its hunt for its intangible antagonist as Mann’s compulsive desire to appreciate the flow of 1s and 0s in the virtual space. It’s chockablock with technobabble and jargon that may alienate the average viewer, but Mann’s secret weapon is his infectious fascination with the subject. The movie is like a conductive surface for his unmitigated zeal, and its potency is viral.

While Enola Holmes empowering feminist message might feel a little on the nose at times, the film, is nevertheless, a witty and endearing little bauble with terrific elan.

Ultimately, this rueful picture of Heath Ledger is a loving celebration of a passionate spirit and a tribute fittingly seen through the eyes of the artist himself.

As epic, grandiose, and emotionally appealing as the previous pictures, The Hobbit doesn't stray far from the mold, but it's a thrilling ride that's one of the most enjoyable, exciting and engaging tentpoles of the year.

As an intriguing and complex portrait of humanism vs. idealism (to be civil about it), there’s also a fine line between faith and madness, and to their credit, The Mission filmmakers leave it up to the audience to decide where they stand; perhaps the sign of sharp filmmakers hoping to leave their viewer hashing it out for hours afterward (something that doc certainly engenders).

Jurassic World takes the sensibilities of Steven Spielberg’s “Jurassic Park,” the sense of wonder, the awe, the thrills, and transports them into the 21st century with ease, plausibility and storytelling clarity.

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

Swims forward with tenacious shark-like energy and therefore is sleek, efficient and utterly engaging.

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.

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

Shyamalan’s crafts a deceptively simple experience. The plot is rather ingeniously straightforward, at first, but the fraught journey of a father and killer trying not to upend and upset the carefully constructed delusional fabrication of his life—and how the two identities crash into each other on one fateful day— is exhilaratingly multifaceted.

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.

Warm, soulful, funny and quietly insightful, Boyhood shines in its engrossing, experiential understanding and it’s a special achievement that should be cherished and acknowledged.

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.

Stutz in the end isn’t revelatory per se, but it is deeply heartfelt, intimate, nakedly honest, and engaging.

McKay’s movie is bold and impertinent and perhaps won’t be for audiences that want a film to play by the rules, but his chutzpah and ambition is something to behold.

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.

Black Widow is mostly an entertaining and adequate tribute to Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, and Scarlett Johannson’s time in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Still, it’s not quite the bittersweet, moving, or resonant send-off one might have hoped for based on the initial movie’s promise of exploring a dark and damaged past and what that does to the soul.

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.

Baumbach’s sharp examinations of the limitations of the callow arrogance of youth and the fatuous nature of egocentricity are pointed and riotously enjoyable.

As an sensory experience, 'WOWS' is mostly a terrifically visceral one, a full throttle fast and furious bacchanalia of drug-fueled madness. But as a scathing indictment of American rapacity, it isn't particularly deep or resonant beyond the exterior.

A darkly mysterious and extremely accomplished first feature.

Ultimately, the film is not only about children who refused to surrender, but also about a country that, for a brief moment, managed to put aside divisions in service of something greater. Like the best of Vasarhelyi and Chin’s work, it transforms an extraordinary true story into something more universal: a tale of endurance, release, and the desperate search for light.

I Origins is a fascinating examination of belief, spirituality and otherworldliness through the skeptical lens of science, however, it's not always perfect.

Perhaps the biggest achievement of The Threesome is how it manages to remain real, grounded and tender but still succeeds in finding opportune moments of comedy in an undoubtedly absurd situation.

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

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.

While Muscle Shoals and its presentation doesn't reinvent the wheel—this is your standard talking heads documentary—the treasure trove of stills and found footage makes for a compelling and effortlessly watchable film that even the casual music fan should find themselves totally engrossed in.

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

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.

Holofcener knows human pathos, the melancholic, absurdist tragedy of it all, the laughter, the tears, the dark biting irony. She understands human behavior and her sharp, well-observed ‘Land Of Steady Habits’ is as lovely and near amazing as anything she’s made thus far.

As an experience, “A Quiet Place Part II” is still riveting and intense and should check all the boxes for most audiences, especially in the “I just wanna be gripped and entertained” post-pandemic age. For those looking for a little more depth and soul and a movie to fully coalesce in the end? Well, you might have to wait for the next chapter for some true thematic and emotional closure, but still, it’ll be hard to argue this won’t be an escapist thrill for most audiences in theaters, at least.

Leave The World Behind isn’t as perfect as its best-written moments —the ones that are somehow expertly frightening, funny, stressful, and cleverly observational, all at the same time—and the movie even f*cks up its Chekov’s gun tease. But as a wicked, playful, tension-filled, and alarming treatise on humanity, its deep flaws, and how fragile, questionable, scattered, and thus vulnerable we are to attack?

As outlandish as Timestalker is, Lowe’s film holds its idea together well with style, wit, resourceful imagination, great lovelorn music, the sincerity behind heartbreak and deep yearning, and hilarious, sharp laughs to boot.

Narco Cultura is gripping, gruesome and arresting; a disquieting look a pop (sub)-culture phenomenon that is mushrooming all over the United States and Latin America.

Kumiko The Treasure Hunter is a striking film, a bizarre joy and a beautiful delight.

Ultimately, Spider-Man Far From Home turns all its intelligent themes into a triumphant story of self-belief for Peter Parker.

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.

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.

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.

Intimate, expressive, agonizing and beautifully rendered.

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.

On The Rocks is almost like a Trojan Horse of intoxicating libations and magical evenings—Murray’s sporty ‘60s candy red Alfa Romeo convertible being the vehicle of these enjoyments— a capricious trick that belies the true nature of its thoughtful and feminine perspective on the difficulties of love, life, marriage, and complex fathers.

Creed II is exactly what you want from a ‘Rocky’/’Creed’ film: it’s engaging, emotional, gripping, and entertaining and as a part two nudges the characters forward in all the right ways.

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.

Measured, assured and featuring across-the-board strong performances, Glass Chin in many ways is a tiny little drama about the virtues of character. But its scale belies its heart, which is dented, but authentic and golden.

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.

Potent with ideas and feelings, ‘Wakanda Forever’ ultimately triumphs nonetheless through heart, soul, grit, and a great sense of visceral urgency.

A dark, but spirited fable about the pitilessness of the West, the meaning of home on the range and the worthwhile qualities of wicked, seemingly irredeemable men, “Slow West” is a terrific little parable, and a strong debut by John Maclean worth treasuring.

To see Daniel Day-Lewis reemerge under his son’s daring direction is more than a comeback; it’s a cinematic conflagration, a collision of legacy and reinvention that feels historic.

Arguably the most persuasive and compelling of Ferguson’s films to date, Time To Choose is an imperative, essential essay on our climate change crisis, and if it ever feels didactic, it’s counterpointed by its very real and very human nature.

Ambitious, impressive, and genuine, with a great sense of vast scale and awe, as its title suggests, Society Of Snow is not only a three-dimensional cinematic feat of wonder, terror, and emotion-stirring courage but a deeply felt portrait of togetherness, brotherhood, and survival, poignantly commemorating the painful memory of indescribable loss and tragedy.

Fennell leans into excess not as provocation, but as emotional truth, letting obsession swell until it becomes the only language the film speaks. The feeling cuts here not as poetry, but as pressure—barbed wire wrapped tight around a heartbeat. In all its wildness, Fennell seals the film with an embrace and a bruise, then lands the kiss like a sudden dagger to the ribs.

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 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.

A terrifically solid and sturdy effort across the board, Bluebird is the real deal and a true package of strong collaborators coalescing to make a wonderful debut film.

Though it may feel threadbare for some, Iñárritu’s near exhausting movie is still unforgettably visceral and there’s so much to be dazzled and experientially shaken by.

Beautiful, yet dark and moving, unsparing, but told with a sympathetic eye, Ginger & Rosa is sometimes relentless in its examination of emotional pain.

Emotionally and psychologically, The Ghost Of Peter Sellers, is an A-grade film. Aesthetically, however, it’s a little flat, and kind of takes too long to truly reveal itself even at a scant 93 minutes. Still, it’s ultimately an emotionally cathartic and absorbing movie about a man who can’t let go, yet wants to be free.

Cha Cha Real Smooth is an affable, heart-on-its-sleeve winner.

What makes The Guilty good is the way it tacitly communicates so much about the character without ever having to speak his issues out loud.

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.

Flower is hilarious one moment, tender the next and takes some surprising turns. And it certainly doesn’t hurt to have a dynamic lead who steadily navigates the twists with an emotional authenticity that keeps the movie on its bumpy track.

The good certainly outweighs the uneven. Dope is both intelligent and crowd-pleasing.

Ultimately, the latest Marvel event is ‘Civil War’ on steroids and as enormous a spectacle as you’ll ever see on the screen that’ll leave you shook. For a movie plot this thin and basic, ‘Infinity War,’ is remarkably gripping, supersized entertainment that should exhilarate audiences, electrify the box office and continue the Marvel hegemony for years to come.

Hegeman’s brash picture burns brightly to the very end. If “Axolotl Overkill” ever overdoses on its dreamy, feverish style, it’s trainwreck-y, can’t-turn-away qualities ultimately rise and consumes you like a blaze of youth in revolt.

Those who find Villeneuve to be a self-serious, humorless, and pretentious bore likely won’t be changing their minds anytime soon after “Dune,” but that just might be their loss. Whether Warner Bros. accepts the call to make a sequel in a climate of dismal box-office returns remains to be seen. But that’s not our concern at the moment; Dune is undeniably impressive, spellbinding, and evocatively immense, regardless.

Straightforwardly shot and sensitive of its subject, Art And Craft is a intriguing depiction of counterfeit impulses (both wrongly perceived and irrepressible), immense talent gone awry and what lies behind the desire to create.

Rogue One is a very good “Star Wars” film, frustratingly though, it falls short of being a truly great one.

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

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

Overall, Cummings and McCabe’s film touches a raw nerve with sharp, funny, awkwardly prickly provocation.

Snyder’s best movie since his debut, the zombie film “Dawn Of The Dead” (2014), Army Of The Dead is tremendously compelling and deftly navigates a lot of different tones, even if it quickly leaves more interesting ones behind. Largely captivating and thrilling, for all is gore, darkly twisted comedy, and delicious tension— surely something satisfied audiences will walk away with—there’s also a minor but palatable sense of loss and melancholy. One that echoes the hardships of the pandemic age and ruthless American capitalism and gives the film some socio-political edge.

Wistfully looking back on the past with a mix of affection for those we have lost, a melancholy yearning for the more tender age of innocence, and anxiety and regret for our trespasses, Gray’s stripped-down drama is a clear-eyed and emotionally intelligent work of great empathy.

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.

A beguiling romantic comedy with a heart, soul and pulse that will pleasure you for a full 90 minutes with hardly breaking a sweat.

Chandor crafts a film in that contemplated vein of consequences, with a moral consideration for everything at stake, including the very souls of these soldiers, No one comes out clean.

Unpretentious and unassuming, but effective, Corbijn creates his own cozy, sleeve for these trailblazers to get their due and creates a must-watch for rockologists everywhere in the process.

"Billie Eilish: Soft & Hard” is thrilling as a concert film, but its force comes from how carefully it maps the machinery behind the magic—the lighting choices, stage movements, emotional calibration, hidden pathways, and private moments of anticipation. It is vivid, immersive, and unusually personal, a portrait of a performer who understands the scale of her platform and still wants every person in the room to feel seen. For a film this massive, its most impressive trick is how close it comes to witnessing everyone.

Young Ones and its serious, bone-dry approach won’t be for everyone. The picture is languidly paced, but its ideas, moods and tones strike many thought-provoking chords.

Beneath the layers of fuzzy frequencies, feverish absurdism, and kaleidoscopic tints lives an inconspicuously poignant movie about existentialist dread, the very human need to reduce the noise, and the genuine longing for connection in a chaotic, jumbled up world.

Ant-Man & The Wasp somehow manages to organize laughs, action, theme, small MCU connections and even fairly touching ideas about family, responsibility and what it means to be a hero all housed inside of an undersized blockbuster.

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

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.

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

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.

It’s an odd film and a fascinating one—narratively simplistic, artistically complex—at times ravishing and then puzzling, much like the enigmatic films of Carax and the idiosyncratic music of Sparks.

The Boy Downstairs straddles a patchy line between comedy and drama with mixed results, but when all is said and done, the auspicious film acts like a mature consideration of the scariness of vulnerability and laying your heart on the line.

This soulful and serio-comedic drama is far less interested in race and much more concerned with examining the state of contemporary male friendship.

‘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.

Cold In July doesn’t always work and it takes quite a long time to get adjusted to its coiling rhythm, but it’s far better than it has any right to be and perhaps, more significantly, is unusually absorbing and memorable.

I Am Greta may be a bit uneven, a little unsatisfying, and low on Climate Change context but it will stir the spirit and absolutely inspire your deep admiration for this devoted and steadfast teenager, and her commitment to real change and political accountability.

While the documentary may not offer a startling new thesis, it still lands in its own subdued way. What lingers is not simply the ugliness of the rhetoric, but the banality of the scam.

An American Pickle is a most unexpected Seth Rogen film, maybe less funny than you hoped, but still charming, amusing, and far more considered than you would have ever thought.

In its deeply affecting final moments, where Linklater beautifully folds the movie’s threads and themes, Last Flag Flying coalesces into a poignant portrait of honor, the bonds of brotherhood and coming to terms with mortality.

If you’re seeking an escapist popcorn-like thriller, Caught Stealing should do the trick. But if you’re yearning for something more substantive, you may end up feeling slightly swindled. Still, credit Aronofsky for picking your pocket with a deft touch, and stealing a base with style.

Sometimes silly, outlandish, and sentimental in its fan service-y callbacks, Star Trek Beyond and its sense of entertaining urgency often trumps its insubstantial qualities, as illogical as that may be.

Love+War doesn’t canonize Addario. It throws the audience into her contradiction: the duty to record history versus the duty to be present at home. It doesn’t answer whether those responsibilities can coexist, and that’s the point.

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.

At the very least, the skillful film generally doesn’t insult the audiences intelligence and generally is a lot smarter and sharper than most mainstream moves in cineplexes these days.

The aspiration itself—what seems to be the clear desire to elevate a conventional murder drama to something greater—feels unmistakably tangible. And ambitious attempts are often intriguing even if they don’t always land.

Carnahan may be the real MVP here. “The Rip” isn’t a masterpiece, and it can be blunt and workmanlike by design, but it’s brawny, confident, and it moves.

As an perceptive story about desireability, our collective value as people or romantic partners, what we’re worth, what we’re willing to compromise for happiness and love and how the courtship market makes us treat one another as casual, often throw-away commodities, it’s an insightful, if imperfect, piece worthy of your affections.

Rohirrim is told with great fervent conviction, and no true ‘LOTR’ fan will complain about that.

It’s something of a miracle that F1 remains as compelling as it is, mainly thanks to its cast and the visceral nature of Kosinski’s filmmaking.

Sleight is imaginative and refreshing as it shape-shifts effortlessly through familiar narrative tropes and invents something unexpected and unique.

Especially in its upending, pivoting-away-from-crime norms, morally ambiguous ending, Hancock’s picture reveals itself to have much more on its mind than expected, and becomes a thoughtful meditation on the rigors of police work and the psychic toll that it takes on the soul.

The film does possess ample charms and insights, though admittedly, they do take quite a long time to coalesce.

By the end, Are We Good? transcends its conventional biographical trappings to land somewhere soulful. Dragging us through the wreckage of grief and out the other side, it suggests that Maron’s legacy isn’t merely acerbic stand-up or podcast milestones, but the more complex work of becoming human in public.

A humanist narrative about family, faith, and grief, ‘Acreage’ is an intimate film with few outsized dramatic moments, but as anchored by Amy Ryan’s mannered yet commanding performance—her finest in years—this lovely little story sensitively absorbs.

Well intentioned and commendable, Tim Blake Nelson’s film does not put his dialogue or writing strengths into question. But movies have to convince us on myriad levels, and this can be tough enough as it is.

Magic In The Moonlight is good in many regards, and mostly enjoyable for most of its 97 minute running time. But it’s also admittedly uneven in spots, familiar and ultimately a bit slight.

Playing like a slightly more reflective B-side to the director's greatest hits, his style in this film isn’t for the more cerebral audiences. But for the viewer who relates to family dysfunction, its maddening contradictions and its mercurial tenor, Joy can be painfully funny, engaging and full of relatable heartache.

As imitative as Edward’s movie can be, it’s an undeniably impressive piece of work. Its concept and plot are easily identifiable, but the grand sci-fi dimension works well with a personal tale of love, heartache, parenthood, surrogate children, and consideration of humanity for all things living, breathing, or connecting data points with something that may even resemble a soul.

The Imitation Game is entertaining and well-crafted, but one still can’t help but wish the drama had a bit more bite and nerve throughout.

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 minor problem of it all is while what Anderson is trying to say can be read across the sky like a beautifully glistening moonbeam; it does often lack the craterous depth of feeling we know he’s capable of when doing his best creative and emotional astrography.

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.

Flawed but still engaging, “The Kitchen,” at least, has good intentions about togetherness and brotherhood and is a promising debut for Kaluuya and Tavares.

Gibney never quite finds Fela, and the quest isn’t always remarkable either, but such is the spirited brio of the seminal subject that some of his dynamic essence still shines through.

Ron Howard arguably captures it in his enjoyable, escapist ‘Solo’ movie, but the burden of keeping fans happy means if you’re looking for surprises, you may have come to the wrong place.

Well-drawn and intimate, Miller’s best observations come incidentally; Five Star explores ideas and relationships rather than spelling them out.

When it rides off into the sunset, what you’re left with is a diverse, reimagined fable of iniquity, holy retribution, and comeuppance that is as entertaining as it is surprisingly soulful.

The Founder certainly does not reinvent the meal, but as a bite sized, consumable snack (that feels like 90 minutes though is actually much longer), its lively and entertaining spirit does often hit the spot. And surprisingly, though traditionally told, the narrative does unwrap a deceptive bite along the way.

It’s an audacious odyssey that buckles under the weight of all its ornate and flights of quirky fancy. But if you’re a cynical optimist that’s disgusted with the rise of despotism, absolutism, rancid lies, revolting white supremacist beliefs but still wants to believe in humanity, hope, and the goodness of people, it might just strike a major chord.

As uneven as the psychodrama can be at times, one thing is clear, Ross is a major talent worth watching. He’s got an eye, a strong p.o.v., and the movie has many perceptive observations about the self-destructive perils of possessiveness, ownership, and holding on too tight.

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

More of a treasured time capsule for die-hard fans than a primer for newcomers, nevertheless, It’s All Gonna Break remains an authentic portrait of a radiant, messy, and ultimately triumphant collective that defied the odds and stayed alive.

You may hate All The Money In The World, and you would be well within your rights to feel that way, but there’s no denying that the film is bold and ballsy.

Peck’s genuine admiration for the sharpness and clarity of Orwell’s writing, combined with the rich tonality of Damian Lewis’ narration, gives the author as grandly respectful a presentation as “I Am Not Your Negro” did for James Baldwin. If “Orwell: 2+2=5” gets one more person to discover Orwell’s work for themselves, then its job will have been accomplished.

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 Yes Men Are Revolting is an entertaining and interesting examination of the anxieties that make us question who we are and if we’re making a difference. But on the whole, this minor film is not nearly as imperative as the vital activism these guys have dedicated their lives to.

Seedy, unsettling and nightmarish, director Gerard Johnson crafts a suspenseful and anxious journey despite the destination pointing to obvious points well known.

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.

The Phoenician Scheme, for all its involved branches, never really comes together deeply or meaningfully. Still, it remains charming and entertaining nonetheless.

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.

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

Spanning across several continents, and obviously decades, Days Of Future Past feels vast and epic in scope. But as large as the movie is, it never loses sight of character and themes (at least the ones that matter).

Digging For Fire is low-lit and pitched in a minor key, a quiet meditation on compromise, individuality, the loss of identity within a marriage, and the aftermath of disorientation that comes with having children and losing touch with your former life.

A paean to the unsung, Hidden Figures is also a romanticized tribute to everyday problem solvers who, in the movie’s eyes, are their own kind of superheroes.

While Dirty Weekend may not quite live up to its title and is certainly his least tart effort to date, the film's milder flavor and less acidic aftertaste is mostly a pleasurable switchup.

Somehow, Scott manages to balance it all: meditations on being made in god’s own image, the fan service of “Alien Origins: Xenomorphs,” and feminist agency. Balance doesn’t necessarily mean execution though. There’s friction with all these ideas fighting for airtime.

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.

Is This Thing On? isn’t perfect. It stumbles where it should soar. But it’s alive with feeling, and that counts for something.

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.

Throughout its trials and tribulations, Wild Life softly asks the question: what kind of life do you want to live? What kind of legacy do you want to leave behind? And these kinds of inspired actions certainly move the heart and soul and prove that the best of humanity has their heart in the right place at the very least.

In the end, Widow Clicquot is a drama about turning heartbreak and tragedy into something brighter, richer, and spilling over into good fortune. And it’s tastefully made too.

A genuinely sweet, charming and funny tale of identity lost and found.

‘Final Reckoning’ might not be the perfect note to end this elaborate action symphony on, but as a sustained chord of passionate peril, intrigue, friendship and the wrenching expenses of keeping the world safe, hell, you could still do a lot worse.

Ultimately, as inconsequential as it all is, Rogue Nation is not pretending to be anything it isn’t. And as a sensory escapist experience with laughs, pleasures, and excitement, Rogue Nation will likely be a most satisfying mission audiences choose to accept repeatedly.

It’s McAdams’ believability, even tangibly intense commitment to this absurd role, that really sells Dobkins’ winning film and makes it sing sonorously, warts and all.

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

If this E6 portrait gets anything right it’s the chaotic creativity that seemed to burst out of many of its members like exploding sunlight their bodies could not handle as if something out of a kooky sci-fi film.

The Walk is broadly written with two clunky first acts that are saved, arguably superseded entirely, by its nerve-wracking, majestic and spectacular finish.

While its story is thin, its emotional undercurrent has a strong pull with poignantly topical notions of empathy, grief, and mercy.

The Drama remains a vital, bleak, and admirably mean-spirited look at the cost of being known and, more expensively, the price of trying to save face. It doesn’t fully cash in on the nastiness of its best idea, but it is funny, queasy, and wholly willing to make everyone miserable for your amusement. In an era of soft, therapeutic romantic storytelling, that alone gives it biting validation.

There’s great craft, impressive creature design, a lugubrious, eventually-soaring score by Max Richter, an excellent Paul Dano nailing the childlike tenor of his inquisitive creature, and low-key Adam Sandler sitting in the pocket, enjoying the chill ease of never overdoing it.

Victoria & Abdul is a movie that flirts with exploring prejudice, cultural tension, power, and religion, but never really consummates the ideas. At best, it tries to humorously dismantle the absurdity of empires and royalty, but that’s about as subversive as it gets.

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.

Somewhere You Feel Free certainly captures the spirit of the time, the sadness, the warm-heartedness, and the creative openness, but one could easily argue it doesn’t really add that much substantive value, beyond some of the making-of stories and what’s already there in the poignant grooves of the music.

It’s arguably Tarantino’s ugliest and most political film, but not his best by some distance.

Time Is Illmatic is comprehensive, even wisely holistic, but still feels as though something is missing; it’s as if in trying to cover the history, the music, the ecosystem, the upbringing and the man itself, each cancels out the other out, leaving only a surface exploration.

Spider-Man: No Way Home is maximalist, chock full of familiar characters and callbacks, and sometimes all that greatest-hits reminiscing is diverting and and entertaining. But it’s also not very necessary, making for a very regressive, fan-service-y ‘Spider-Man’ legacy-sequel that’s overly nostalgic for its heydays.

Ultimately pleasurable if very disposable, Homecoming offers strong teen dynamics and for once, serves up high school-sized stakes instead of placing the planet in peril.

Sure to baffle some, it’s a weird movie that isn’t actively weird, but what’s striking about the picture is Sobel’s point of view and confidence. While the movie is amorphous and porous, it’s clear this is exactly what the filmmaker is going for, and that’s certainly bold for a first timer.

While far from perfect, Welcome To Pine Hill works more often than it doesn’t and is an intimate and existential character study of a man out of place with his past, himself, and his surroundings, and the push and pull of former and future worlds beckoning him.

Evans at least provides enjoyable pandemonium in Havoc, which is not a perfect film by any means, but certainly more worthy than some of the Netflix originals that aren’t delayed and are delivered at your streaming front door immediately.

It takes a huge leap of faith to go along for the ride, but Boyle’s impassioned, viscerally paced, and well-directed movie is so heartfelt, even the biggest pessimist will likely begrudgingly warm to it, flaws, and off-key notes and all.

Eventually, the comedy coalesces enough to chalk up a small win. Mind you, Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F isn’t reinventing the wheel, and low expectations might help. But it does make a remarkable transition from something that initially feels dire to something that eventually lights up, pleases, and produces some foul-mouthed ‘Beverly Hills Cop’ energy to feel familiar in the best sense.

Aesthetically detached, clinical, and with murderousness always happening in broad daylight, Veni Vidi Vici might arguably be more clever than laugh-out-loud funny or insightful. Still, some of the facetious formalism goes a long way.

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.

Atmosphere and feelings can only do so much when story, and its credible beats, seem to have fallen by the wayside.

Anyone who finds this conclusion a humanistic or socially reprehensible dealbreaker can hardly be faulted. Before these questionable issues come to a head and then falter in the finale, there is a lot of value in The Girl.

Dark Horse is crowd-pleasing and rousing, but its biggest problem is that no successive part of the documentary can sustain the power of its opening prologue.

No one tries to reinvent the wheel, and everyone plays the greatest hits, steering things right off the cliff into explosive, slow-motion ecstasy, where ‘Bad Boys’ thrives and survives best.

Miles Ahead is well-intentioned and ambitious, but ultimately uneven, as it cannot redefine the structures its so desperately wants to break down.

Shang-Chi might get bogged down in the weight of water carrying -plot, legend, plenty of backstories, MCU connectivity, and the obligations of climatic superhero action that gets unwieldy, but in the end, it’s a winning film that’s likable and that quality goes a long way.

Every Secret Thing is not built to satisfy, and so its sour ending doesn’t help its uneven experience. Every Secret Thing is not unlike last autumn's abduction drama "Prisoners." Both demonstrate an excellent level of craft and are handsomely shot and composed, but both suffer from narrative issues.

While “Frida” does show signs of promise, especially when it leans into the distinctive, and Kahlo’s penchant for magical realism, it’s never as vibrant as her. One wishes the doc could similarly unshackle itself, match the artist’s radiant spirit, and push itself into the next innovative frontier.

It’s a classic “Predator” film in many ways, subverting the paradigm slightly by featuring a new context: a Native American female warrior at its center, Naru (a persuasive Amber Midthunder, full of conviction). But as fresh as Prey does feel in this new warpaint on the surface, the film does feature a lot of inherent, built-in limitations.

Thor: Love & Thunder can be enjoyable in spots, but disposably and inconsequentially so.

Well-intentioned and intimate, Alex Of Venice has its heart in the right place; its pains and struggles might be small stakes and personal, but they’re very genuine, relatable and universal. There’s a lot to admire, which is why the movie’s uneven grasp of narrative fundamentals is so frustrating.

It’s a strange and odd, film, alternatively admirable and gripping, and also flat and one-dimensional.

For all its problems, Bourne is still thrilling and an undoubtedly engrossing action film thanks to its taut construction.

An admirable and touching picture, Last Days In The Desert can be deeply moving in moments, but as restrained and elegant as it is, the picture never quite transcends.

For all its bluster, end-of-doom stakes, gravitas and super-seriousness, what Whedon’s movie does best is communicate its concern for the all the human beings touched by this story: the broken, nearly shattered heroes, their extended families and even the civilians caught in the crosshairs.

There's a great movie somewhere inside Touchy Feely desperately trying to swim to the surface, but its obscurity also comes with an inarticulateness that robs it of its potential.

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.