The Wild Robot is a jaw-dropping and tear-jerking endeavor that immediately cements itself as one of the director’s very best, and possibly one of the best films of the year.

The way Leigh uses these characters to inform us of Pansy’s story is impeccably handled, a sign of a master storyteller that still has plenty to offer.

Adams and McNairy give two fantastic performances that showcase the confused, overwhelming situation that first-time parents find themselves in, and Heller juggles this fantastical high-concept idea with very real emotions and powerful statements.

I’ll Be Right There is a light, breezy way to spend a little over an hour and a half filled with some genuinely funny gags, top-notch dialogue, and solid performances.

With Pugh and Garfield leading this tremendous love story, We Live in Time becomes one of the best movie romances in years, and proves that few filmmakers can present the power of love quite like Crowley can.

Winner is a bold idea that almost immediately proves itself to be a misconceived mess.

Like the family at the center of the film, Nutcrackers is rough around the edges, but it's lovable in a shaggy way.

Altogether, it's a solid dark comedy in the trappings of a psychological horror film.

Even during the fantasy musical numbers, which give cover to stray from the overall aesthetics of the film, Phillips is just incapable of delivering the genre’s requisite razzle dazzle that would surely complement Joker’s persona.

In every piercing stare, you can see Terry’s determination and drive just as you do brief flashes of overwhelming despair at the depravity that surrounds him. It becomes surprisingly emotionally impactful at key moments, all of which Pierre plays perfectly. For all the restraint both actor and character embody, the joy of the film comes in how you see the righteous fury growing inside him. It's just waiting to burst free to set things right in a world gone awry.

Harris and Dormer are the best of frenemies in this sneakily stupendous character study, as relentless as it is mysterious.

It's a tense, mostly successful thriller with a talented cast, but greater artistry in the thematic development and greater novelty in the plotting would enhance the freshness of the crime drama.

Given Almodóvar’s established penchant for melodrama and that the subject is euthanasia, the film is strangely aloof. It never reduces the proceedings to Lifetime territory or patronizes moviegoers in the process. It does, however, leave you to wonder a bit about the indifference you might ultimately come away with yourself.

It's a Frankenstein'ed monstrosity made of different horror approaches, except instead of bringing something to life, unrevivable ideas remain limp and useless.

At a different time, I might have been more inclined to entertain Reijn's proposition seriously. But it's just her luck that the great Catherine Breillat, who has devoted her illustrious career to investigating these taboos, dropped a far superior film on the same subject matter, Last Summer, just a few months prior, beating Reijn to the finish line.

Slingshot is more of a murky mystery where the big revelations don't hold up under scrutiny.

Pablo Larraín's Maria is a one-note exploration of another public figure that just makes the same points over and over again.

Burton’s vision from 1988 remains fully intact. If anything, he has expanded on world-building. It’s the best possible outcome from the studio’s blatant cash grab as a singular vision is rigorously and thoughtfully preserved in the storytelling.

This adaptation captures the atmospheric and sorrow-laden storytelling that comes with turning the pages on Richard’s final days.

This is no romanticized look back at a past film, but a deeply honest one. In every frame, both within the production of the film and outside of it, it feels like we're witnessing something profoundly personal that may soon slip through our fingers. It's worth cherishing every moment of.

One or two jokes might cause a titter, but the other ninety-eight percent of this unfunny deflation has nothing to offer but hormonal awkwardness without the gut-busting payoff.

Through its powerhouse performances, effective bare-bones plots, and strong horror elements, Adam MacDonald's latest survival story gets the job done, and does it well.

The film captures the reality of an abundantly free, but unguarded childhood well, and the resultant dreamlike quality of certain scenes is thoroughly engaging. It's absolutely a journey to watch.

It’s more than just a failure of a remake — it’s disappointing on its own standalone merits, too.

It’s a breathtakingly melancholic film infused with mourning, journeying its way through subtly painful yet often poetic conversations about searching for something lost that may never be found. That only makes all the discoveries it makes that much more stunning to behold.

It’s non-stop drama, and the way the story plays out, it’s like Vance took every crazy episode from his life and played them back-to-back without pausing for a single pleasant memory or character defined beyond a single dimension.

While her first outing as a writer-director is a mixed bag, Kravitz shows undeniable potential to join the ranks of performers who are equally exciting behind the camera as in front of it.

Struggling through an identity crisis, The Crow is doing too much and, as a result, doesn't do enough to serve its core narrative.