Much of Kate Plays Christine is more of a form exercise than it is a documentary portrait, which works to both the film’s benefit and detriment.

It’s not the savage darkness of Okja that lingers most after it ends, or even the political allusions. It’s the story of Mija and Okja, trying to make sense of a frightening world where good people and animals alike die each day, and the only thing that can usually prevent this from happening is more money.

Lucky is not perfect, but metaphors rarely are. There are jarring narrative jumps that never resolve and a superficiality and dry humor that keep the intensity fairly low. But the message is a blunt one. And given the heavy topic, this levity works in the film’s favor.

The result is that this film isn’t necessarily for the Pink Floyd newbie, as they’ll be hopelessly confused as to who is who — however, they may still be able to take in the incredible music. And Pink Floyd at Pompeii captures a Golden Age just beginning — a whole lot of spectacular music was soon to come from Waters, Gilmour, Wright, and Mason. You could see it coming, clear as an eruption from the grounds of Pompeii.

It’s a warmly empathetic documentary, the kind that simply observes instead of attempting to sound one kind of rallying cry or another.

As many note throughout the doc, the best moments that film as a medium has to offer are found in the smallest details. And when you find something truly great, as with this scene, you can just keep looking and looking until you spiral into the same void on which the grisly sequence ends.

Guided more by emotion and imagery than by any conventional plot, A Bigger Splash is a wicked, mysterious, ceaselessly sexy, and experiential carnal summer whirl.

Southside with You is a rewarding bite-sized drama, rich with characters who we already know, but also don’t really know.

To be sure, the concept of Spike Jonze directing a Beastie Boys documentary conjures up flashier results than this. But taking it for what it is, Beastie Boys Story remains an entertaining, insightful, and unexpectedly fun look back at three of hip-hop’s most iconic voices.

Even as On the Count of Three tumbles toward an ending as unpredictable as it is slightly unearned, the bones of its central performances and unabashed embrace of its concept keep you glued to the screen.

Though Raya and the Last Dragon is a visual and audible spectacle anchored by an all-star cast, the film’s lack of originality and paper-thin characters leave it on the less memorable end of Disney animated films.

These jackasses up there on the screen are breaking bones, facing fears, and throwing their bodies against anything they can think of because they find a joy in it. There’s joy amongst this fellowship of freaks, and they’re sharing it with a worldwide audience that’s faced mostly melancholy for far too long.

There’s something, well, deliciously appetizing about Bones and All’s oddball romance, from Guadagnino’s sensitive approach to the material to its staggering work from both leads.

The movie is too vividly realized to be boring, but it spends a lot of time scrambling out of the gap between pulpy fun and serious allegory. It’s also hobbled by the fact that it’s very much, as the opening credits say, Part 1; no real resolution is offered by the end of its 155 minutes. It’s just half a movie.

The Invitation is supremely well-crafted.

Every Little Thing isn’t a movie you watch for story, though — it’s a movie you watch for understanding. Not just the nuances of what it means to be a caretaker like this, but what it’s like to see the world from the perspective of the tiny and vulnerable. Because this world, in microcosm, is so full of little beauties.

Gray’s many fans will probably love Armageddon Time, and it may even win over some more neutral viewers who respond to his decidedly non-nostalgic look at a pivotal (and not especially promising) moment in U.S. history. But anyone who has found his movies less articulate than the ideas behind them will only get occasional respite here.

Formally, it doesn’t reinvent the wheel ... But this straight-shooting approach mostly works, even if it doesn’t pin Davis down as concretely as some would like.

The film maintains a hum of stoic, nerve-trembling anxiety that carries through to its finale.

In a time when so much of what we consume can feel plastic and cheap and mass-produced, it’s the human touch we come to crave — especially when it leads to something as fun as this.

The performances, like the film, are rich, layered things of tremendous feeling and complexity. The characters, like the film, are imperfect but well worthy of cherishing.

The film’s most poignant moment comes in an interview that took place near the end of Zappa’s life. He’s asked how he wants to be remembered, and he responds, “I don’t care.” That doesn’t mean we don’t care, or that we aren’t allowed to care, but this isn’t the film to make us do it.

Whether the result of the film’s brisk 90-minute runtime, or a lack of desire to investigate some of its subject’s greater desires and fears, Love, Gilda feels breezy to a fault.

Hidden Figures might not be as groundbreaking as the women whose story drives it, but like those women, it does what it does very well.

Come Inside My Mind is a moving, engaging portrait of a beloved comedic icon, but like Williams himself, it sometimes lacks focus.

For those who love stories about found families, East of Wall is essential viewing.

The more affecting moments in Sully come when the film puts aside its posturing and really examines what it is to be heroic in a cynical age.

Beyond the gross-out humor and music video homages, there’s a sweet and emotional story about finding family in the world where you’d least expect it, and the strength that can be found in friendship.