It’s a mess, but a glorious one, the kind of ambitious, unapologetic project that’s most notable for its perspective.

The long-shot is hardly a novelty — as it so often tends to be wielded in Hollywood — but a point of view — a feeling even. And rarely, if ever, has that style been so affecting and executed so beautifully.

Ultimately, The Substance isn’t saying anything new, but the extremes to which it’s willing to go make it unforgettable cinema.

It’s the kind of wholly fun, satisfying late-summer fare that audiences will crave as the season winds down on its face, but like much of the director’s more recent output, it’s operating on several more thoughtful levels at the same time.

It is, for all of its action, and unexpected hints of the underbelly of humanity, and bodily fluids, actually quite a languid, melancholy film. It doesn’t shock its viewers, nor does Denis seem to have any interest in doing so. It quietly, meticulously unmoors them instead.

Nosferatu delivers exactly what it promised — a new version of a classic tale, told by one of our most technically accomplished filmmakers. And this is certainly a more explicitly sexy version of Nosferatu than what the original German film delivered 102 years ago. However, it otherwise follows its source material, as well as the paths laid out by other adaptations, so faithfully that its most original elements feel drowned out by the familiar. It’s perhaps the best-made Dracula adaptation to come around in a long time. But it never feels essential.

With a jukebox parade that will invite viewers to inevitably sing-along to classic earworms, How Can You Mend a Broken Heart is the Bee Gees documentary you’ve been waiting for. It’s a fitting tribute to their unending love for each other.

When it keys into Mamie’s horrifying experience, and the way she refuses to retreat from it, Chukwu and Deadwyler pack a wallop.

Poekel and Audley keep exposition to a minimum, allowing the truth behind Noel’s breakup to emerge organically, in the weight of an object or his reaction to a beaming couple. It’s elegant filmmaking, seamless in its storytelling.

Jordan Peele's made a thrilling, exciting blockbuster that also touches on the nature of spectacle, and the ways artists get chewed up and spat out (in some cases, literally) by their work.

When Neville chronicles the failed work of Orson Welles, They’ll Love Me When I’m Dead comes alive with newsreel tabloid verve.

Pixar’s latest has all the sweet, ricochet-fast humor of the original, the same brilliant animation and rich color, the same winning performances (complete with a few new scene-stealers), and the same simple, staggering emotional intelligence of its predecessor.

While these are major hurdles to the film holding together as a consistent exploration of its subjects, On Body and Soul is still an intriguing, cerebral comeback for Enyedi.

Personal Shopper might be a failed, if noble, attempt at transcending genre, but you’ll leave psyched to see what its star does next.

It’s a marvel of filmmaking created from nothing (and one of the more meaningful uses of 3D in recent memory as well), and Favreau stages one scenic tableau after the next with uncommon skill.

If Jones can move from mortal woman to musical superhero in the space of a few moments, if she can convert the despair within her ravaged body into energy, then so can the rest of us in our times of weakness.

What’s so inspiring about Better Man is that it represents the culmination of such a smart collection of choices, ones that add up to create a true portrait of an artist.

This isn’t about the inner mechanics of the game, and it’s not even strictly a film about gambling, per se. It’s a dense character study that rests on the shoulders of Johnson, who delivers his strongest performance to date, casually handling every scene with a magnetism that recalls the likes of ’70s era De Niro or even the aforementioned Caan.

The Nightingale has a torn – and riveting – conscience.

The scope of Presence remains small and intimate throughout, in a way that really makes you appreciate Soderbergh’s craft, especially his attention to detail.

Robbie has been great in many films, including some pretty bad ones (what’s up, Suicide Squad), but she’s outstanding here.

The handful of scenes in which Bernstein does speak of his craft are engaging; the film depicts him as well-loved as both a professional and a man, a charming teacher to his students; his charisma and confidence are hypnotic. Unfortunately, it’s unclear what Cooper is really keen to communicate with this portrayal.

Project Hail Mary is a movie that believes it’s possible to save the world. It dares to hope. And that’s more beautiful than all the stars in the sky.

It’s fascinating when Smith chronicles Carrey’s stunt in tandem with gags he tested on late night shows.

The conclusion of Relic is haunting, beautiful, and cathartic.

You may not come away feeling like you know much about Wheatle himself, but you get to spend an hour in his shoes.

There are several sequences where the comedy of Thelma really sings, but if the film was just a parody, it would maybe be a funny yet rough watch. Fortunately, its depth of feeling for its elderly characters elevates it to a strange hybrid that works remarkably well, with Squibb’s performance in particular bringing it all together.

There’s grace to be found in The Beguiled, and delicacy, but what’s most interesting is the brutality and power that seethe beneath the surface.