Sara Stewart

Despite being set in the late 1970s, 20th Century Women feels like the perfect movie for this moment.

It’s very funny and sweet and even a little weepy, and it has maybe the best scene ever filmed of dirty talk gone wrong. In other words, it’s a Schumer/Apatow production — may there be more of them to come.

Take note, Lars von Trier: This is how you do a truly funny, subversive movie about a woman’s obsession with the human body and sex.

Here’s a franchise you’d think had been done to death (wasn’t the last webslinger reboot, like, two years ago?), and yet Spider-Man: Homecoming feels fresh and new, an endearingly awkward kid brother to the glamorous “Wonder Woman.”

Call this movie by its name: Masterpiece.

This Belgian drama is the real deal, an alternately wrenching and ecstatic viewing experience, adapted from a play by lead actor Johan Heldenbergh.

Capping off the year that transgender stopped being transgressive, the story of artist Lili Elbe (Eddie Redmayne) makes for one of the year’s finest films.

Sure, it’s just a space Western, but “Star Wars” is one of the our most popular modern mythologies. Johnson respects that. He’s infused the storyline with new energy and artistry, and I can’t wait to see it again.

Detroit may be tricked out with the Motown and miniskirts of the era, but its police-brutality narrative, assembled with firsthand accounts of that day, has chilling parallels with the here and now. It is not an easy watch, and it is an essential one.

This comic biopic is a blast from start to finish.

It’s the rare biopic that doesn’t wander into predictability.

It’s his home movies with Love and baby — some playful, others drugged and drooling — that fans will find the most emotional viewing. As the credits roll, it’s hard not to just root for the sensitive, progressive, fiercely creative Cobain and wish that he’d lived long enough to find a little peace of mind.

Sebastián Lelio’s remake of his 2013 Chilean movie “Gloria” is, indeed, a glorious celebration of Julianne Moore at her peak.

By turns funny, sinister, haunting, historically fascinating and mythical, The Lighthouse is one of the best films of the year.

This Little Women is two-odd hours of good cheer and lovely ensemble performances. It’s a warm fireplace hearth of a film, albeit one with a tendency to spit out fiery embers.

Many of the images — and Salgado’s accounts of taking them — are as soul-shattering as they are breathtaking.

This is the song of the summer in movie form, a playful ode to car chases, Motown, diners, that moment when you find the exact tune that matches your mood, driving stick, crime capers, ’80s movies and love.

The two working girls at the center of Tangerine are played by engaging newcomers: Kitana Kiki Rodriguez as the freshly out-of-jail Sin-Dee Rella, and Mya Taylor as her best friend Alexandra.

Love, Antosha manages to be both a deeply sad farewell and a fascinating introduction.

This is a film that challenges moviegoers in a way that a Marvel movie or rom-com will not, and it is worth taking the time and concentration — and, if possible, the trip to the theater — to view a true master of the craft at work.

In a perfect world, Tea With the Dames could be a series. Let us be flies on the wall for this posse’s weekly gathering for tea and convivial cackling. And I say this with the delighted surety that they would tell anyone who proposed this idea to go straight to hell.

Naz & Maalik does what all great New York movies do: ground unique, engaging stories in the middle of the glorious chaos that is our city.

Moana stands head and shoulders above this year’s earlier aquatic animated hit, “Finding Dory”; it’s so transporting it will have your kids begging you to book the next flight to the islands.

Director Luca Guadagnino pirouettes far from the easy-living, Italian-countryside romance of last year’s masterpiece “Call Me By Your Name” for an arthouse-meets-Grand Guignol reboot of one of the freakiest horror movies to come out of the 1970s. And he pulls it off in delicious, gut-punching style.

Profoundly moving and, at times, almost unbearably sad.

Profane, darkly funny, violent and tragic.

A masterful ode to one of life’s most universally awkward phases.

The film’s slightly confusing ending doesn’t spell anything out, but that’s all right: We’re left sitting in the dark shivering, reassured there are still some directors who can leave us well and truly creeped out.

Billed as a dramedy, the film has plenty of “WTF” funny moments, but it’s always laughter tinged with darkness.

How to Survive a Plague, while a shaggier-structured documentary than many, is a heart-wrenching portrait of one of the saddest, most heroic chapters in American history.

This rural drama is the best yet from playwright and filmmaker Martin McDonagh (“In Bruges,” “Seven Psychopaths”), and one of Frances McDormand’s greatest performances.

Arrival makes a moving case that we’ve only scratched the surface of what we think is possible — and what we define as intelligence.

Like all the best comics movies, this one’s got a villain (Michael B. Jordan) so compelling he nearly steals the show from the hero (Chadwick Boseman). And sure, the futuristic African country of Wakanda may be fictional, but it’s brimming with cultural resonance.

There is so much pain in Moonlight that it’s a little hard to breathe at certain moments. But there are others, of connection and redemption, that positively glow.

It’s a tale as messy as its muddy fields, and it’s a must-watch.

Not since “American Movie” has there been such an entertainingly clumsy, warts-and-all documentary about making a movie, this time courtesy of Cincinnati filmmaker Tom Berninger.

In a time when climate news is near-uniformly depressing, this is a nature documentary that pays loving and hopeful tribute to the complex web of life — and it won’t scare your kids.

This is a compelling and comprehensive guide to one of the most Kafkaesque crime stories in American history.

I’d like to see a sequel about her freshman year at college, please. There were still a few items on that list left unchecked.

Despite a traditional-seeming quest for a suit of armor and a sword, the film’s intrinsic message is all about the transformative powers of music and love. It’s a movie the whole family can rock out to.

The result is a thoughtful, dreamlike (at times, nightmarish) tour through the day-to-day lives of several suburban California teens.

Marie’s Story will feel familiar, which is mostly a tribute to the enduring power of Helen Keller’s biography.

Fogel’s focus is female friendship, and the challenges presented by growing older and pairing up. It all makes for a rocky road, regardless of the romantic rival’s gender.

The Scottish director’s short, blunt thriller is so violently nerve-jangling that it feels like a stretch to recommend it, exactly.

A funny, shambling buddy comedy that mostly serves as a vehicle for our two stars to do what they do best, which is riff on race and pop culture.

It’s Schoenaerts, one of this generation’s finest actors, who makes The Mustang a moving look at human potential for redemption and rehabilitation.

In one of Hugh Hefner’s least creepy moments ever, he describes how they became friends later in life; with his help, she finally obtained the legal rights to her rampantly used image.

It’s a feel-good film with a somewhat curdled legacy: You could clip just about any piece of sexist dialogue here, label it 2017 and pass it off as plausible.

This indie, female-centric riff on “Deliverance” is spare, smartly written and shot through with moments of twig-snapping tension.

Director Catherine Gund most successfully depicts the visceral impact of Streb’s work with her footage of the 2012 Olympics.

Finally, a post-“Bridesmaids” film that lets Kristen Wiig shine — and brilliantly taps into co-star Bill Hader’s vulnerable side, too.

This is a raunch-com that goes for — and gets — stunned laughs.

As satisfying and polished as you’d expect.

It’s not quite “Once,” but Song One, featuring original music by Jenny Lewis and Johnathan Rice, captures a similar, unselfconscious beauty in the way music can make sense of big, ungainly emotions — as James puts it, “for three to five whole minutes.”

Even the most extreme punishments are softened by hilariously neurotic dialogue. Vive la Delpy!

In a move sure to infuriate “nanny state” critics, director Stephanie Soechtig names the US government and food corporations responsible for a campaign to get Americans addicted to junk food — particularly, and most dangerously, sugar — as early as possible.

Scary and sad, Trapped is for anyone who cares about the precarious future of reproductive health for American women.

Be advised: The film opens with a warning about “flashing lights and hallucinatory images,” and, while effectively unsettling, these do eventually get a little hard on the eyes.

It’s never too early to introduce your kids to the magic and emotion of the monster movie.

By the time its credits rolled, I was ready to forgive Rogue One any imperfections. Its last 10 minutes are spectacular and dark, with a final flourish that should give any “Star Wars” fan goose bumps — and a new hope that the next main installment will be this good.

Though its resolution is a bit pat, most of The Girl in the Book is a smart and pointed look at abuses of power and roles women too often play in the literary world.

At a certain point, the pattern of Knoop’s reticence, then acquiescence to Albert’s masquerade becomes slightly repetitive, but JT LeRoy still gives a compelling inside look at the head-scratching hoax that succeeded, in part, due to musty notions of what a hot shot writer ought to look like.

Virtually dialogue-free and animated in a cacophony of playful bright colors and ominous industrial landscapes, Boy & the World plays like a dream segueing into a nightmare.

My own voice-over would go something like this: “This summer. One woman. Will see this movie. Again.”

Author is one of the most entertaining documentaries in recent memory — and, possibly, the origin story of catfishing.

Girlhood veers between being a celebration of sisterhood (albeit an occasionally violent sort) and a chronicle of the cycle of poverty.

The film never pretends to be other than what it really is: soft-core porn for the ladies, diluted with an “R” rating.

The star gives us a generous and hilarious portrait of life as an aging legend.

De Wilde has a good grasp of Austen’s sense of humor, and she plays it up with some amusing bits

With a mischievous, metaphysical flourish, Doctor Strange administers some much-needed CPR to the flagging superhero genre. It doesn’t reinvent the wheel — a power-hungry villain (Mads Mikkelsen) tries to unleash hell on Earth, blah blah blah — but it’s a heck of a lot more fun than I’ve had at a Marvel movie lately.

Ryan Reynolds is chillingly perfect as a nice-guy factory worker struggling with schizophrenia and murderous impulses in this tonally wild indie, which is nearly too horrifying to be funny — but not quite.

With its gray skies, moody ambience and ominous orchestral score, Thelma fits the cliché about Scandinavian entertainment being dark as hell — in the best way. It’s also gorgeous.

Midsommar is no slouch on chills, but they creep up slowly, like a bad trip from one of the Swedes’ festive glasses of hallucinogenic tea, and are leavened with an occasional dash of humor.

A witty and occasionally wise take on sibling bonds and adulthood — even if the latter only arrives kicking and screaming.

Sure, it’s got its horror aspects. But for my money, this movie belongs alongside “Secretary,” “Ginger Snaps” and “Thirteen” in the family of deliciously dark female coming-of-age stories.

On the whole, though, you couldn’t do much better than Monkey Kingdom to get kids invested in learning about, and protecting, the natural world.

In some ways, it feels like an indie meditation on the eternal “When Harry Met Sally” question: Can men and women be just friends? Here, though, the focus is on the small, often unsaid moments that define a friendship — and a murky attraction.

Grim but worthwhile.

Daunting though it may be for the aspiring pick-up entrant, this is a fun and worthwhile ode to one of New York’s greatest summer pastimes.

Garbus’ film is at its best when giving voice to the female relatives of these victims, who come together to pressure the cops — who’ve been instructed to downplay the possible connection between the killings — to do more.

Some of the acting feels cardboard; the plot points are never shocking. Eastwood’s love interest is about four decades his junior. And yet, the director casts a Zen cowboy spell that makes it all sort of irresistible.

Kinnear brings heart and nuance to a character in the terrible position of being asked to evict the mother of his son’s best friend. It’s a no-win situation in which no one is the bad guy — a gentle, intelligent oasis in this summer of heated name-calling.

Never seen, but often heard bellowing profanities from the other end of Jane’s desktop landline, the boss and his eyebrow-raising closed door meetings dubbed “personals” provide the menacing undertone of this day-in-the-life drama.

Disney, take note: This is how to do a winning live-action update of a cartoon.

Khaou’s film features masterful performances from Whishaw and Cheng, whose dialogue is somehow intensified, rather than diluted, through the third-party voice of the translator. But some emotions, the film suggests, are impossible to adequately articulate in any language.

Under the generous debut direction of Damon Cardasis, there’s enough heart and raw truth here to uplift the moments that falter.

Schechter’s soul-scored film is impeccably styled for the time period, and its easy pacing reminds me of the gold standard for Leonard adaptations, “Out of Sight.” It’s not that good, but it’s within striking distance.

Calm down, “Black Swan” guy. Viewers will survive; some may find, as I did, scenes he intended to be terrifying as ridiculously over-the-top. But Mother! is undeniably a wild, memorable ride. It’s a Rorschach test of a movie to interpret however you like.

White excels at writing dislikable protagonists — topped by Laura Dern on the HBO series “Enlightened” — while giving his characters enough humanity not to be monsters, and the potential for change.

There is an honesty and realism to Driver’s performances that work well in the part of a blue-collar poet who feels no need to court the spotlight.

Holy moly, Melissa Leo makes a scary Mother Superior.

What the film lacks in plot twists it makes up for in sheer amazement.

Writer/director James Ward Byrkit, in his feature debut, achieves effective chills with only eight actors and a living room, intermixing quantum physics (shout-outs range from Schrödinger’s cat to “Sliding Doors”) with the very mundane human tendency toward bad judgment calls in a crisis.

Casting aside warnings and physical threats from the townspeople, this once-demure teen girl embraces her wild side with a gory, punk-rock abandon.

As they’re akin to spectators at a magic show, viewers ought to keep an eye out for what the Merchants of Doubt don’t want us to see.

It’s substantial food for thought, but too scattered for a two-hour running time.

Overall, though, Paul Feig’s (“Spy”) reboot of the 1984 classic is a goofy, big-hearted romp.

In a film that’s often sad but not without its triumphs, director Morgan Neville smartly explores the complex role that ego and self-promotion play in this profession.

A supernatural “What’s Happening to My Body?” parable in company with “Carrie,” “Ginger Snaps” and last year’s “Thelma,” Wildling is low-key with an undertone of menace, skillfully directed by Fritz Böhm in his feature debut (though some of his nighttime scenes are so dark it’s genuinely hard to tell what’s going on).

If it’s overstuffed in the way of most sequels, well, at least it’s stuffed with good cheer.

Only in his early 20s, Zephyr Benson makes a remarkably assured debut as writer, director and star of Straight Outta Tompkins, his tongue-in-cheek title for his past as a middle-class drug dealer in lower Manhattan.

If you’re willing to overlook some monstrously big plot holes and logic gaps, this half-animated Chinese blockbuster is an agreeably bonkers, occasionally disturbing cinematic ride.

A gritty romp that makes the cliché-prone heist genre feel fresh again. It runs far deeper than any “Ocean’s.”

Us is more expansive and messier, a Rorschach blot of a movie, riffing on primal fears and a raft of ’80s references. Is it a pointed cultural take or just a gleeful scare-fest? It depends on what you choose to take from it.

The very German lack of emotion is so acute it can be hard to tell when Hausner’s playing for laughs, but Friedel is hilariously — if morbidly — tedious as the tortured writer whose pickup line is, “Would you care to die with me?”

Maggie Gyllenhaal goes from caring to creepy in this Netflix release.

It’s not without its quirks (and occasional pacing issues), but Sister Aimee is a true original — apparently, just like its namesake.

The upstart Sapphires are a smash to watch as they cover soul tunes like “I Heard It Through the Grapevine,” “What a Man” and “I Can’t Help Myself.”

Director Jay Karas doesn’t exactly reinvent the wheel as he puts this odd couple through the paces of getting in shape and reconciling old wounds, but he’s helped by some laugh-out-loud quirk in Gene Hong’s screenplay, nice comic chemistry between the two leads and supporting players like J.K. Simmons.

If Michael Fassbender wears a giant papier-mâché head for most of a film, is he still mesmerizing? Happily, yes.

In Abuse of Weakness, Breillat, notorious for her sexually explicit films, casts the excellent Isabelle Huppert as her avatar, Maud, to tell the tale.

My main beef is with Spielberg’s choice to leave out his own work, both as producer and director: “I didn’t corner the ’80s market,” he told Entertainment Weekly. But yeah, he kind of did.

Director Trey Edward Shults made his debut last year with the indie drama “Krisha,” and this one’s a very different take on family dynamics — not at all your typical horror film.

On the whole, it’s a pitch-perfect love letter to “Ab Fab” devotees. As for newcomers? My advice: See it after a couple of Stolis, darling, and you’ll be just fine.

Keough is riveting as the vulnerable Grace.

In the film’s most visceral scene, as the trio stands on the site of a mass grave in Lviv, Ukraine, von Wächter still can’t bring himself to admit his father’s direct culpability.

There’s also a broader commentary here on the treatment of women, both in arranged marriage and in testosterone-heavy thrillers. Apte’s character stays largely an enigma throughout, but her palpable frustration with the men and culture around her — plus the chance to vicariously visit Goa, that jewel of an Indian seaside getaway — makes The Wedding Guest worth an RSVP.

It’s slightly tough to get onboard with the regal Naomi Watts sporting badly sprayed hair and frosted lipstick; surely there are more flattering shades at the Walgreens?

Director Uberto Pasolini (“Machan”) has a gem in Marsan, a virtuoso actor who plays the role delicately where another might have laid on the pathos too thick.

Dunkirk satisfies as a brisk, gripping survival story. At only 107 minutes, it’s also astonishingly short in an era when most movies needlessly run on long beyond the two-hour mark.

Now this is how you do a female raunch comedy. Equal parts crass, heartfelt and goofy, Girls Trip manages to hit all the right notes.

Mistress America never falters in its case study of a complicated female friendship.

As a primer on one of history’s less flashy leaders, it’s a worthwhile watch — mostly for fellow Texan Woody Harrelson’s committed performance behind those prosthetic ears.

The film doesn’t wallow in grief; it’s a thoughtful and nuanced portrait of a stage of life we often choose not to see.

This sequel to the 2004 movie is an impressive feat of animation, particularly in its action sequences.

Sparse of dialogue, terrifically ominous and full of low-key, high-quality performances, Blue Ruin is a vigilante tale even haters like me can get behind.

Clearly, the elder Scott’s aim is on the scares — and oh, what satisfying, terrifying, screams-echoing-down-a-ship’s-corridor scares they are. All the philosophical debate here belongs to the robots — which is possibly even more chilling.

Bong Joon-ho directed one of the best dystopian thrillers in recent years — 2013’s “Snowpiercer” — and one of the finest monster movies ever, 2006’s “The Host.” You’ll find elements of both in his chilling, subversive new Netflix film, Okja, about a girl named Mija (Ahn Seo-hyun) and her enormous pet superpig.

Based on the graphic novel “The Coldest City,” this film keeps its comic-book aesthetic front and center.

Whether you’re a veteran Brando-phile or a newcomer, Listen to Me Marlon is a totally fascinating glimpse into the making (and unmaking, and remaking) of a legend.

Wood and Page generate a believable, prickly sibling closeness in Rozema’s unhurried but harrowing micro-portrait of how easily civilization could crumble.

A few university officials talk on camera, but not many do, and it will be fascinating to watch the fallout from this scathing indictment of a system that, the movie claims, has all but encouraged sexual predators to do their worst.

Schwartzman is perfect as Kurt, simultaneously compelling, ridiculous and creepy.

Its double-barrel satire is aimed both at those who curate their lives through merrily sun-dappled photos, and their followers, who drink it in as reality.

Bennett, who’s been largely off the radar for a while, is heartbreaking and, eventually, fierce as her character begins to crave change.

A first-rate example of good storytelling and well-timed — while not excessive — gore. Its disgusting, hilarious conclusion left me eager to see what’ll be next from director Jim Mickle.

A refreshingly positive ode to the power of the Internet to bring far-flung artists together and change lives in the process.

The sweet-faced Kelly is a lovely and humble storyteller, and her enduring affection for John, Paul, George and “Richie” is palpable.

Hogg (“Exhibition”) sets The Souvenir in the 1980s but shoots her subjects with the long-armed reserve of a period piece; the ivory-complexioned Byrne bears a resemblance to 18th- and 19th-century European portraits glimpsed throughout.

It’s almost impossible to resist The Lego Movie 2 for its continued everything-is-awesomeness, even if it does fall back on the trope of playthings terrified of being relegated to the storage bin.

Maybe my favorite thing about this About Last Night, though, is that it’s proof romantic comedies don’t have to be so predictable.

Two of Winehouse’s oldest friends also contribute, giving deeply sad accounts of watching their goofy, fearless pal disappear into a haze of flashbulbs and self-destruction.

The real treat here is the science, not the fiction. The film’s sleek aesthetic was developed in consultation with NASA about what such a mission would actually require, and look like as viewed on surveillance cameras.

Curran (“The Painted Veil”) never imposes any additional structure on Davidson’s story, which may test the patience of some viewers. But I found the sprawling, wild visuals in Tracks, and the long silences as the sunburned Robyn traverses some of the world’s least hospitable lands, meditative and moving.

Color Out of Space is full-bore, glorious B-movie Cage: Cranked up to 11, spattered with gore and bellowing about alpacas.

Davidson expertly plays the role like he’s playing . . . well, Pete Davidson, which is how I imagine his career will go.

Albert Brooks shows up as a red-tailed hawk whose desire to help clashes with his killer instincts; Dana Carvey is pitch-perfect as the ancient basset hound whose back legs are in a wheelchair.

McAdams gives one of the best performances of her career as her character wrestles with the enormous question of whether, and how, to give up everything she’s ever known.

Though it boasts an eye-catching roster of supporting performances — Jennifer Hudson, Jordin Sparks, Jeffrey Wright, Anthony Mackie — most of the running time is spent with Mister (Skylan Brooks) and Pete (Ethan Dizon), and both child actors hold your attention impressively.

Washington and Zendaya, freed from lockdown, dig into the dialogue with zest, and they’ve got a palpable chemistry even in the midst of some horribly hurtful exchanges.

Comparisons to “Slumdog Millionaire” are inevitable, but the kinetic Trash has a rhythm all its own.

The film manages to be both hopeful and devastating — and recommended viewing for anyone who subscribes to the facile notion that abused women should “just leave.”

Pine makes a perfect foil for Gadot’s furrowed-brow sincerity, his Steve Trevor wry and comfortable enough in his skin to hold his own with Diana (even when she’s scrutinizing his naked form).

Norton does a humanizing job of explaining Lionel’s unusual brain (he’s got a near-perfect memory) and defusing his outbursts with self-deprecation and humor.

After Tiller is groundbreaking in giving voice not only to the doctors, but to those who always seem to get overlooked in the high-volume political debate about this topic: the women themselves.

This low-budget indie has a unique ambiance and surprising depth, both in the performances of its two leads and the writing/directing team of Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck (“Half Nelson”).

Caro (“Whale Rider”) largely forgoes the eardrum-shattering ballistics of a typical war movie — yes, there are bombings and shootings, but they’re the backdrop, not the focus. Her film dwells more in the aftermath of violence.

Will Forte continues his transition into serious actorhood with this indie.

It’s a more somber companion to Marjane Satrapi’s 2007 film “Persepolis,” which explored life under the Iranian Revolution with dark humor: Here, the laughter’s mostly a prelude to tears.

Waititi emerges triumphant, but it’s a nail-biter.

Plus One is the latest evidence (see also: “Always Be My Maybe”) that the romantic comedy is making a long-awaited comeback, with some overdue modern tweaks.

The striking Thierry brings her character to nuanced life on screen.

These dynamos don’t need a screenplay to hold anyone’s attention.

A real nail-biter of a monster movie. The question is: Who’s the monster?

There’s not a bad performance in the bunch. Hendricks’ and Fanning’s Brit accents are nicely un-showy.

If there’s a flaw in Unsane, it’s that the screenplay by Jonathan Bernstein and James Greer doesn’t play its hand closer to the vest. The pleasure here is in watching and wondering what’s real and what isn’t, but all too soon it’s spelled out for us. Nevertheless, it’s great fun to watch it all come together — or, more accurately, fall apart.

Reitman directs with an empathy for mothering that never shies away from its darker side.

Apologies to Charlton Heston loyalists, but War for the Planet of the Apes is a good example of how today’s movies sometimes beat the hell out of the oldies.

It’s blessed with an ace comic foil in Theron, who out-snarks Rogen in scene after scene. The duo makes a terrifically fun on-screen couple, with the kind of zingy banter (thanks to Dan Sterling and Liz Hannah’s screenplay) found in black-and-white movies pre-dating the term “rom-com.”

The literal ghouls here take a back seat to the subtler ones, which are really where It shines darkly.

Footnotes isn’t perfect, but at least nobody lectured me about jazz.

This featherweight comedy from director Ben Palmer (“The Inbetweeners Movie”) is a lot more fun than many heftier, supposed rom-coms, thanks to the timing and chemistry of its leads.

At its best, Love, Gilda intertwines the comic’s own narration — drawn from audiotapes, interviews and journals — with reflections from her current-day admirers.

Ultimately, Sleep Tight makes a sounder case for nocturnal Webcams than the "Paranormal Activity" franchise ever could.

A mouse and a bear defy social convention to forge a friendship in this lovely, charming and Oscar-nominated French animated feature (now available dubbed into English with the voices of Forest Whitaker and other notables).

It’s all a delightful mess, executed with a deft touch by Jacobs.

A big, dark film that should satisfy the many fans of the Orson Scott Card novel and engage newcomers, too.

Cohen, so good in 2015’s “Brooklyn,” is chilling as the shark-eyed Varg (who has been linked to hate crimes in France in recent years), and Culkin brings just the right amount of eye-twitch to Aarseth, who seemingly enjoyed making grandiose proclamations of “evil” and donning corpse makeup rather than actual criminal activity — yet did little to stop out-of-control followers.

Crowe makes the most of his own quiet presence, and this ode to the world’s never-recovered soldiers and their families is a fitting meditation on the insanity of war.

Watching Schenck and McBath campaign to fellow Christians for a dissociation between God and guns, you suspect their words are falling on deaf ears.

The scrappy striver narrative may be an overly familiar one at this point, but director Tom Harper (the BBC’s “War & Peace”) gets a terrific performance from Buckley as Rose chases her dreams while living the kind of turbulent life that has always inspired the best of country songs.

The least we can do is watch what they’ve risked their lives to show us — and help break the silence. Their story should be required viewing for anyone engaging in discussion of the refugee “problem.”

Based on the book by Patrick Ness, the film belongs alongside “Pan’s Labyrinth” in the realm of darkly creative kid-centric films that are, at their core, not really kids’ fare at all.

Tatiana Maslany (“Orphan Black”) is nearly unrecognizable as Petra, Silas’ longtime girlfriend caught in Bell’s roundup, and Bradley Whitford shows up in the latest of his silver-haired villain roles as a sketchy lawyer.

Ambitious and messy, Annhilation will likely leave you with more questions than answers. Mine is: “When can I see it again?”

C’s wordless vigil will send you away with a shivery melancholy that defies easy explanation. And that, after all, is the essence of every good ghost story.

Unlike many working in this genre, Mitchell doesn’t punish young women for having sex: This is a gender-blind demonic delivery vehicle.

Debut director Marielle Heller’s spent a lot of time with this material — she wrote and starred in an off-Broadway adaptation — and her confident direction of Powley, Skarsgård and Wiig, fused with a Polaroid-evocative palette and a glam ’70s soundtrack, makes this an indelible coming-of-age story.

As a snarky, stylish Santa Fe couple, Paul Rudd and Steve Coogan deploy a wit drier than the sprawling landscape surrounding their desert mansion. If you enjoy your comedies devoid of easy sentimentality (as this reviewer does), this one’s for you.

At 162 minutes, American Honey may test some viewers’ patience, but for this one, it paid off with an unflinching portrait of middle America, a love letter to the open road and a dynamic newcomer in Sasha Lane.

Scrappy and unsettling, V/H/S puts the majority of today's mainstream "scary" movies to shame.

The reason Waititi’s films (yes, even “Thor: Ragnarok”) are so resonant is that they’ve always placed love and humanism at the heart of their humor. “Jojo,” despite going to some very dark places for its laughs, is no exception.

In Zhang’s capable hands, their love story — in which Yanshi masquerades as various workmen in order to see his wife and attempt to jog her memory — is elegantly touching, as is the slow repair of the relationship between father and daughter.

Yes, it’s the middle chapter and feels like it, but it’s never dull.

Like the film itself, it’s simple but well-executed enough.

Harris, a talented comic actress who looks more like a real person than a Hollywood facsimile of one, makes every scene she's in shine.

Don’t let its sweet title fool you: Director Noah Baumbach’s latest may just be the best war movie of the year.

Though most foreign films are best seen subtitled, the nonstop overexcitement of these anime performances can be exhausting. I’d have welcomed the dulcet tones of Pace, who voices Mr. Suga.

You may feel echoes of “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” and “Starman,” but writer-director Jeff Nichols has ultimately crafted his own unique twist on the genre.

Q Ball is a moving and dynamically shot portrait of the Northern California prison’s basketball team, which is sponsored by the NBA champion Golden State Warriors.

With one slight wobble toward the conclusion, Ashe’s screenplay is terrific at letting its characters speak and act honestly: His dialogue is heartfelt and realistic. “Sylvie’s” is a love letter to the delights of a well-told love story.

They’re the ditziest, most solipsistic protagonists I’ve seen outside of a Neil LaBute project.

If the plot becomes a bit scattered in its third act, a generous interpretation might be that it’s a reflection of the chaotic cultural backdrop. Chon directs with style and a humane eye for all parties; he’s a dynamic young director to keep your eye on.

It’s a lark, if you can tolerate the hammy redneck accents, and confirms that Soderbergh is as agile as ever at knitting together all the moving parts of a complex heist.

Mainly, though, this is Nanjiani’s show. Bits of his smart, cross-culturally incisive stand-up are sprinkled throughout, in performances alongside his fellow comics (one of whom is Aidy Bryant of “SNL”).

Outlaws and Angels isn’t perfect — Murray mumbles into his beard way too much — but Eastwood sure is at ease with a cowboy hat and revolver. Clearly, she’s studied with the best.

It’s an exhilarating contrast to the weak-sauce caped crusaders who arrived at the box office last week. For a more convincing (if selectively edited) portrait in heroism, look no further than Darkest Hour.

All the past decade’s Marvel movies have been heading toward this showdown. Turns out the payoff was worth the wait.

If you’ve got comics-movie fatigue, with frequent fourth-wall breaks to point out lazy writing, blatant foreshadowing or heavy reliance on CGI for fight scenes, Deadpool 2 is here for you. That doesn’t mean those things aren’t there (they are) — but the eagerness of Deadpool to call out its own shortcomings earns this trash-talking franchise a lot of goodwill.

As in the original “Despicable,” masterful physical comedy is what raises this animated pic so far above most of its competitors.

It’s a quiet, slow burn but one that stays with you.

Feels like an homage to the early work of Wes Anderson with its plinky soundtrack, solipsistic banter and emphasis on uniforms.

Gore and supernatural comeuppances ensue in a haunted-house flick that mostly eschews jump scares for more satisfying psychological and erotic twists.

Funny — sometimes brutally — and surprisingly touching, it works whether you’ve seen the source material or not, though there are plentiful shout-outs to die-hard fans.

Like his Oscar-winning “A Separation,” Iranian director Asghar Farhadi’s latest, nominated for this year’s Best Foreign Language Film, is an expertly crafted domestic thriller.

Animated sequences give life to various voice-overs, but are never as interesting as the young woman herself.

Weirder and more contemplative than many of its time-traveling brethren, Predestination is a stylish head trip. It also marks Australian actor Snook as one to watch, as she demonstrates some serious gender-bending range.

Life of the Party is undeniably at its best when Falcone is showcasing McCarthy’s aptitude for physical comedy.

Entertaining particulars aside, this trope is pretty well-worn — the game everyman who finds making illegal money easy and fun, until it isn’t.

Dan Stevens (“Downton Abbey”), as the Beast, has the heaviest lift. He’s emoting through a CGI veil that never quite feels real. But his cranky character is more engaging this time around.

Maggie’s Plan isn’t perfect — the threads of its plot are sometimes a little too loosely knit — but Miller’s clearly got her finger on the pulse of the New York intellectual comedy.

You may well emerge from The Search for General Tso with a hankering for the titular spicy dish.

Clemency is remarkable for the understanding it affords to all involved with its wrenching subject matter.

Elisabeth Moss is a primal, predatory force in Her Smell, a female-centric spin on the classic debauched rock star story.

American Animals takes an appropriately wild approach to its subject, biting off a little more than it can chew, but nevertheless coming up with a truly novel entry in the overcrowded heist genre.

No matter how well you know “Over the Rainbow,” you may never hear it as heartbreakingly performed as Zellweger sings it here.

Sudeikis, often cast as genial everyman, is quite good in a more prickly role, and Hall brings her characteristic nuance to a smart but lost character.

At stark odds with the director’s earlier work is the color palette of this one — that is to say, the film is nearly devoid of it, a haunting wash of multilayered grays. This is one Shadow that deserves to be in the spotlight.

Director David Gordon Green (“Our Brand Is Crisis”) generally skips feel-good cliché to chronicle Bauman’s struggle with being painted as the face of never letting the terrorists win.

Though Valderrama gives a standout performance as the avenging Angel, brother of the late Jesus (Kareem Savion), two smaller roles are also worthy of note: Paz de la Huerta as a spacy bartender at Pianos, and J. Bernard Calloway as Dre, a bouncer who’s seen it all, and who can be reliably found eating a healthy salad as he sits outside his nightspot.

Per Swanberg’s signature style, the dialogue is largely improvised, the performances loose and funny. This may be his most star-studded cast yet, but the work is as intimate (“mumblecore” is so passé) as ever.

Tonally, Happiest Season is a bit uneven; it can move from broad hijinks to high emotion a little too quickly. But it also delivers wonderfully heartfelt moments.

Vinterberg aces the metaphor-heavy scene in which Troy demonstrates his swordsmanship for an inexperienced, dazzled Bathsheba.

The film spirals steadily downward through humanity’s worst impulses as the guards, led by Angarano’s character, explore the free rein they’re given to torment the powerless.

Subtle, sometimes really sad and honest about the struggles of adolescence, Marnie is a worthy last entry from Ghibli before the studio reportedly goes on hiatus.

It’s big, bloated, and, if you give in to the familiar charms of its jacked leading man, not unenjoyable. (Alternately, you could easily just let it induce a little nap.)

Natalie Portman is captivating as a damaged electro-pop star known as Celeste in Vox Lux, a flawed, flashy drama from actor/director Brady Corbet (“The Childhood of a Leader”).

Mostly, though, it all ends up feeling like a lost, minor episode of “The X-Files:” A little scary, a little silly and catnip for those who want to believe.

Field, as usual, goes all-out; the film may be a comedy, but she attains a few moments of real heartbreak.

If nothing else, the mere sight of two popes drinking brews and watching a soccer game together is one of the more surreal things you’ll see at the movies this year.

There’s such a genuine sweetness to Johnson you can’t help digging the shtick.

There are two things that make the flawed Mapplethorpe worth a watch: Matt Smith’s dedicated performance, and a reverent inclusion of so much of the artist’s work.

Action flick machismo suffers an identity crisis in Stuber.

Daniel Radcliffe continues to propel himself further from his Harry Potter past, this time via straight-up flatulence: Swiss Army Man nearly makes up with juvenile glee what it lacks in plot and coherence.

Thankfully, director Miguel Arteta (“Beatriz at Dinner”) gets a solid half-hour of funny out of this thing before clunkiness sets in.

The film begins by telegraphing impending doom (and wraps up, underwhelmingly, with thriller clichés).

Second films in trilogies are often the toughest to pull off. Maybe Green’s final chapter, Halloween Ends, will redeem what he’s done here, which ultimately feels like very little progress at all.

On one hand, third installment is series of hilarious meditations on trials of being middle-aged woman, co-written by feminist goddess Emma Thompson, who gives self all best lines as deadpan OB-GYN.

The satire’s so meta that its whiny protagonists threaten to eclipse the joke.

Ultimately, for the show’s fans, it may not matter if “Sponge Out of Water” shows a hint of mildew. After all, my co-critic’s most enthusiastic note — “Hilarious!” — was written before the lights even dimmed.

More wobbly moments of Woman Walks Ahead seem to teeter on the edge of both white-saviorism and becoming a Harlequin romance.

Adrift is paced like its title, and the story’s momentum is slowed somewhat by constant toggling between past and present.

Prisoners of the Ghostland is equal parts visual delight and narrative head-scratcher. Most of all, it’s a hefty dose of Nicolas Cage set to full-tilt gonzo.

This erotic noir is about as substantial as one of its female lead’s string bikinis, but it’s an enjoyable trifle nonetheless.

For anyone looking for a shot of vengeance adrenaline while waiting for “John Wick 3” to come down the pike, Braven will probably fit the bill.

The long-term effects of bullying are at the heart of The Gift, a dark and ultimately quite nasty psychological thriller from actor/writer/debut director Joel Edgerton, who manages to yank the carpet out from under his audience a couple of times.

Leong’s film isn’t particularly stylish, but it makes the most of the climactic Knicks footage, as well as showcasing a sweetly goofy side of the 25-year-old, now playing for the Houston Rockets.

The considerable charms of Miles Teller and Analeigh Tipton elevate this middling rom-com.

The Giver is at its best when Bridges expounds on civilization’s lost beauty and savagery; at other times, it’s strewn with implausibility: For a totalitarian society in which everyone is monitored constantly, our hero is able to sneak around an awful lot.

Joker starts grim and gets grimmer, as Arthur embraces his inner demons and finds they resonate with the huddled masses of Gotham.

A thoughtful drama which sags when it tries to shoehorn its characters into by-the-numbers plot points.

This documentary, a love letter to their sisterly bond, gives a reasonably engaging look behind the scenes.

A likably gushy celebration of female friendship, sometimes feels like a throwback to the Drew Barrymore of the mid-’90s: At times you wonder if she and co-star Toni Collette might actually break out into a lip-sync-with-hairbrushes routine.

Bening forgoes vanity and digs into the humiliation Grahame felt as she aged out of the vampy roles Hollywood typecast her in. Bell brings a sturdy humanity to Peter, a low-key stage actor and nice guy who’s completely unfazed by their age difference.

By the last battle, you may find yourself hoping that at least one person escapes without being macheted to death.

The film fails to represent how singular and influential the late Giger is in popular culture.

Niccol’s film may not be perfect, but it shines a light on a subject many viewers will know vaguely by name — and not much more.

A refreshingly naturalistic depiction of the dynamic of traveling companionship — at any age.