Microcosmos is that rare film to lead us, to reiterate why the camera is just as important as the paintbrush, keyboard, pen, chunks of clay, and anything else that can be used to make art. This is art.

You’ll be holding your breath at times.

Murderball isn't a documentary played in the key of those Olympics stories that inspire you with sugary drivel, although it is ultimately inspiring.

Sasha deserves credit not only for making a riveting documentary but also for getting so darkly personal.

I really liked that Robert Greene chose to have the citizens of Bisbee play the roles of the strikers and deputies the reenactment. I feel that it really added something special to the documentary.

I can see why this movie scared so many people. I’m fairly liberal and I find Clint’s super-cop infinitely appealing. Imagine how this movie goes down with people who already have one foot in the door of the local militia or Klan auxiliary. Even Pauline Kæl would have to admit that politics aside, this is a pretty damn effective action movie. This is Clint at maybe his best looking and healthiest, and his Inspector Callahan is perhaps every rebel’s dream.

Good One is a carefully crafted character study. It’s brought to life by perfectly calibrated performances, led by the young but brilliant Lily Collias. This is one hike everyone should experience.

No wonder that cinematic auteurs like Martin Scorsese and Oren Moverman produced Diane. It brings to mind films like Kenneth Lonergan’s You Can Count On Me, produced by Scorsese, or Moverman’s Time Out of Mind (which also dealt with memories, identity and the limits of human compassion). Jones may lack a little of the former’s humor or the latter’s visual artistry, but perhaps it’ll come later. The hard skills are all here.

Economic struggle, crime, intimidation in a variety of forms, and, above all, the lack of affection and joie de vivre, are factors strongly influencing the course of the story. Hu Bo, who could have been a true artist of the cinema, put his spellbinding camerawork at the service of a brutal social exposition with plenty of anger and frustration. The effect is intimidating but very real.

Divine Love is beautifully shot and wonderfully acted, but for those who are on the religious persuasion it may be too blasphemous, and for those who do not subscribe to a defined religion, it may be too dogmatic and weird.

Eastwood tells the story at a pace well under the Hollywood speed limit, tosses in details so beguiling they seem about to sprout into motion pictures of their own and bathes his subjects in shadows as lovely as those in any Rembrandt.

The low-key, natural performances are dramatically offset by the mercurial and incandescent Lelia Goldoni, the emotional heart of the film.

This masterful documentary from David France weaves high-stakes storytelling and investigative reporting to expose the ongoing situation, resulting in an unforgettable film.

A courageous film, especially from a first-time director, and deserves all the audience support it can attract. It’s a People Story, and it’s About Something. However, it’s also something of a heavy sit.

The most beautiful thing about EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert is that in connecting us so intimately to the man and showing him in all his complexity, Luhrmann cuts through the baggage we bring and gives us a fresh look at one of the most fascinating and accomplished musicians who has ever lived.

Ruizpalacios, who did a more consistent job in his 2014 debut drama Gueros, combines adventurous theft, archaeology lessons, family aloofness, and a vitiated friendship all in one. The lens of cinematographer Damián García attractively captures all of this, but part of the energy accumulated during the journey wasn’t always canalized in the right direction.

Bleak, weirdly witty at times and unrelentingly suspenseful, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead is the cinematic equivalent of a perfect storm.

This is a film that gets savored through reflection as you put all the pieces together and realize the scope of its achievement.

Portman delivers a compelling and unabashed performance, one that is award-deserving.

To me, Say Anything is without a shadow of a doubt the most rewarding, funny, and likable romance of the last twenty years. It heralds the decency of romantic love against the gears of a cold, grinding mechanical world.

A languorous and poetic study of faith, grief, love, death and regret, set against the disheveled, but gorgeously framed, backdrop of Lisbon’s ghetto.

All you have to do is forget about watching the movie and let the movie watch you. Just listen to the thunder in the distance, overhear part of someone else’s life, and feast your eyes on vistas unseen until now.

The beauty of the film is just how genuine and down-to-earth the performances are and how Gyllenhaal maintains a natural, authentic tone throughout.

It feels strangely slight for Almodovar, but there's a richness that draws us in -- There's so much going on beneath the surface that you can hardly take it all in.

The film’s narrative arc demands attentiveness. It’s dense and talky, with a lot to absorb and almost no time to reflect. The deep meaning of the words blended with the pure, hyper-realistic filmmaking style of Ceylan, makes it a very rich experience.

Guzmán’s skills as a documentarian have not eroded one bit. His soft narration reminds one of Werner Herzog sans his, at times, metaphysical excesses. The director captures incredible footage of the protests as a functioning organism, a sublime wave of furious power.

Trier has created a masterwork, with layers of human drama and frailty (on a budget of less than $8M), soaring to the heights of unearned optimism only to crash into the inevitably of mortality.

Imagination spills across the screen in a bold, undeniable presence.