Human Resources resonates because it restores the humanity to that dehumanizing title phrase.

It's a sweet and wise film - neither groundbreaking nor revolutionary save for the fact that it places narrative and character arc at the center of its concerns.

Assisted by passionless central performances and dull dialogue, Mungiu succeeds only in exhausting our patience, not in conveying a message.

An unassuming little film that packs a huge emotional and artistic punch.

A completely different order of cinematic existence than any other film you're likely to see in the near or distant future.

A multi-layered, experimental film, a film about storytelling, but the beauty of it is that it transcends the story at its center while still celebrating the virtues of a tale well-told.

(Cusack)'s genius, however, is in his continual ability to be the most likeable of everymen.

Gone Girl is a rare bird: a tricky, weird mystery that benefits from people knowing its twist from the outset.

More whimsical than gloomy, for all the horrors it alludes to or depicts.

It never quite elevates itself above something like a really well produced behind-the-scenes featurette on a high end Blu-ray. But if you’ve got that Jodorowsky T-shirt aping the Judas Priest logo, you may as well start lining up now.

Only Lovers Left Alive is an exhibit A example of how to use style to enhance substance, not overwhelm it.

Forman imbues the material with exactly the right dry, satirical flavor, yet this story is still a Frank Capra little-guy-against-the-system picture.

In a World… is pretty much a perfect movie, chock full of fun, endless laughter, realistic love and that all-important magical movie ingredient — originality.

Serkis’ Caesar gets more than his fair share of rip-snortin’ badass moments. He’s arguably the finest leader of men we’ve seen on screen since “Lincoln.”

It makes us realize, suddenly, and with immense regret, what the rest of contemporary cinema so sorely lacks.

A heartfelt documentary.

We marvel at the almost perfect realization of a character whom we're not necessarily meant to like.

Fill the Void is, in the worst sense of the word, a “women’s picture,” in which people wring their hands and worry, wail and weep over marriage and maintaining the status quo.

MTV, comic books and gangster flicks are all in Lola's cinematic family tree; it's a heady, breathless ride.

While there are some okay side stories (stuff with the daughters and daughters’ friends) it kinda feels like attending a dinner party and checking in on the first world problems of a friend you kinda like, but don’t like enough to ask any follow up questions.

Stick with the film, accept the rules of the time and the meditative rhythm of the language that Davies has woven into his story, and you won't be disappointed. Then read the novel. It's even better.

Much more mythic and risk-taking than the usual Hollywood product.

The Taste of Others takes regular (but not ordinary) people and knocks them out of their usual zones of activity. The resulting collisions leave behind a very pleasing flavor.

When Allen conceives of a character this great, it’s hard not to wish for him to slow down and maybe write that extra draft to refine his creation, but Blanchett – at once both repellant and eminently relatable – uses the casual tone to her advantage, the same way that monster movies use miniatures for scale.

I was so taken by the film's sublime visual poetry, its telling silences, its finely orchestrated editing rhythms.

It simultaneously wows you with the stark beauty of its images, a beauty that leads to another, related kind of truth that is equally crucial. It's not to be missed.

Works so beautifully because Davis doesn't try to turn Eads and his friends into walking soapboxes for transgendered people.

A feral and staggeringly well-conceived revenge saga.