Even though it's right there in the title, "fantastic" might be a touch hyperbolic in describing director Wes Anderson's stop-motion adaptation of Roald Dahl's The Fantastic Mr. Fox, but only by a whisker.

It's also a British comedy, with that singularly British way of being clever and deliriously juvenile all at once, a combination that makes for scathing, laugh-out-loud, big-screen satire.

It’s a movie with the sort of resonance, thoughtfulness and universality that audiences of all descriptions will enjoy — and, more importantly, connect with.

Extraordinarily engaging but surprisingly sobering.

A crowd-pleaser, through and through.

While Pina will undoubtedly be well-received by modern-dance devotees, it does little to take advantage of the enormous opportunity to open the door for newcomers.

This kind of cinematic delight is a rarity, a warm and masterfully crafted reminder of why we love to go to the movies in the first place.

There can be no denying, however, that the director captures the hopelessness of such troubled lives with greater force than any of his peers and that his work has staying power because its truthfulness is beyond question. [30 Jun 1995, p.L30]

Even if the obligatory third-act twist arrives with all the subtlety of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Drag Me to Hell otherwise steers mostly clear of predictability.

Dumont's fans might find this latest exercise enjoyable, but his style of filmmaking is an acquired taste. I doubt those without that taste are going to acquire it here.

As one who first saw Grey Gardens two decades ago, I can happily confirm that its impact is lasting. [3 July 1998, p.L34]

In addition to being the most accessible and purely enjoyable of Lee's film in years, it's also one of his most important.

Under the Skin is, in short, a film that does just that: gets under one's skin, shining a light on what it means to be human -- even if what we end up seeing is something less than comforting.

A fast-moving, fascinating and at times even fun documentary residing squarely at the intersection of sports, geopolitics and history.

This is a film that could -- and should -- catch on. Just be careful nobody follows you home from the theater.

Sometimes the nuts-and-bolts of the story threaten to snag, most often on conversations about the very specific details of Locke's largely humdrum job. It's those moments in particular that keep Locke from ever quite shaking the feeling that it's a gimmick film.

What we end up with is a rare treat: a midbudget movie for grown-ups — no capes, no magic wands, no kid’s stuff. In other words: pure Linklater.

127 Hours -- just like "Slumdog Millionaire" -- is a masterful slice of four-star cinema, featuring an irresistible performance by James Franco, breathtaking cinematography, and the kind of deep, searching soul that is absent from so much of what comes out of Hollywood.

A beautifully uncomplicated story, really -- about the love between daddies and their little girls.

Even with that pedigree, Ponsoldt's film doesn't snap and sizzle as much as it just lays there, leaving moviegoers who haven't been converted to the Wallace cult to long for the end of this particular "Tour."

This is the kind of movie that almost begs for a second viewing, which, admittedly, isn't always a good thing. In the case of The Lobster, however, it is. It's a very good thing -- good and weird and wonderful.

It's one heck of a fun ride, a pure popcorn spectacle that doesn't require a knowledge of the Star Trek mythology to make it enjoyable.

This isn’t your run-of-the-mill character study. It is a smartly conceived and beautifully executed meditation on the co-existing pain and pleasure, complexity and fragility of human existence.

The Dardenne brothers keep dialogue to a minimum but create strongly defined characters by letting their cameras linger on their actors' expressive faces. Their cast works small wonders with this extra-verbal strategy, and by the time the film's stunningly simple finale arrives, it seems both inevitable and marvelously serendipitous. [21 Nov. 1997, p.L34]

It’s early yet, but “Challengers” is already among the best films of the year so far.

Boyle, Sorkin and company might not have invented the iPhone or changed the way people viewed technology, but it does something the real Steve Jobs had trouble doing: It offers a genuine peek at the man behind the turtleneck, and in the process finds a way to connect with its viewers.

While Isle of Dogs can be enjoyed simply for its surface pleasures -- its unique story, its singular voice and its gorgeous animation -- there are elements there that will appeal to those who want to dig deeper. That includes an argument in favor of an aggressive and adversarial press, as well as a fairly glaring distrust of government.

Love is Strange doesn't really have any sort of sense of urgency about it. To the contrary, it feels rather mundane, as their problems -- while both unfortunate and unfair -- feel relatively small when put in perspective.

The surprise is that Captain Phillips is a surprise in the first place, pitching and rolling tirelessly like the sea on which it is set and, in the process, becoming one of the most enjoyable and well-made movies to hit theaters this year.

Berger's film is still far more magical than it is macabre. And so although a black-and-white, foreign-film adaptation of a very familiar tale might, indeed, be a hard sell, audiences who buy into it are in for an undeniably rewarding movie-going experience. In a word: ¡Ole!

Many scenes, like Another Year itself, don't actually go anywhere.

It is beautiful, and it is difficult to watch. It is heartwarming, and it is heart-wrenching. It is absorbing, and it's unsettling.

Don't expect there to be a run on Secret of Kells action figures any time soon.

Bridge of Spies, with its stop-and-go momentum, is also more merely interesting than it is full-on riveting. It's still quite good stuff, but despite its impressive pedigree... it doesn't feel as if it's quite the sum of all of its parts.

Foxcatcher isn't a film many viewers will clamor to rewatch. It's too chilly a film for that. At the same time, it's one that will suck them in -- and it will hold them while they're there.

Larrain's film offers something human, something insightful, and something altogether unforgettable.

This is what makes Anderson's film so infuriating. It's so damned irresistible -- until it becomes so damned insufferable, getting lost in a marijuana fog of poorly explained plot developments and indecipherable twists. Still, it's hard to look away for fear of missing some other equally inspired flourish.

You'd think that a movie about such a dynamic moment and such a vibrant ad campaign would be more dynamic and vibrant.

Rarely have New Orleanians looked so ugly, but given current events, rarely has a film felt so essential.

It's that zippy dialog more than anything that moves "Django" along and that coaxes such fantastic performances from its actors.

Imagine a funnier, more thoughtful, more bittersweet version of "Green Card" and you'll have a pretty good description of a Chinese-American comedy called "The Wedding Banquet." [27 Aug 1993, p.L20]

Few of the characters feel fully fleshed out. McKay's Big Short also lacks a certain nuance in its third act, when McKay's agenda becomes abundantly, ham-handedly clear. Still, it's hard not to be outraged by what is learned.

The sky is far from falling on the Bond franchise. In fact, it is as good as it has ever been. What's more, Craig is reportedly on board for at least two more outings, so Q had better get to work on those bifocals because 007 is no where near ready for retirement.

While those flaws might conspire to keep A Fantastic Woman from being unassailably fantastic as a whole, there's no denying that it is fantastically timely, and touching to boot.

This is not a feel-good movie. This is the frigid, hard-to-embrace cinematic opposite of a feel-good movie, in fact -- all wrapped in one long, dark metaphor for depression.

Starred Up isn't just violence for violence's sake. Rather, it is a surprisingly layered, hard-hitting human drama, one that cuts to the bone -- albeit with a homemade prison knife.

A lovely jaunt that ends up becoming one of Allen's most enjoyable films, start-to-finish, in years.

Also helping to sell it all is the fact that these films, goofy though they may be, feature a consistently high level of acting. In addition to Pegg, we get Martin Freeman ("The Hobbit"), Paddy Considine ("Red Riding"), Eddie Marsan ("Sherlock Holmes") and Bill Nighy ("Love Actually"), all of whom have appeared previously in the trilogy.

To his credit, however, the often-playful Blomkamp never bludgeons his audience with any specific message. He's too busy letting 'er rip with his edge-of-your-seat, and unapologetically violent, sci-fi adventure.

The result is an intelligent and well-crafted film that works to inspire audiences by finding the humor amid the prevailing bittersweetness of life, and that celebrates the strength of the human spirit with a dose of unbridled and entirely embraceable optimism.

The performances are strong enough to elevate things. Darin, Villamil and Francella are the kinds of actors who you just know you've seen before, but whom you probably haven't.

Josh Safdie and Ronald Bronstein's story has no apparent qualms with throwing various far-fetched twists at its audience, but the film's overall tone -- which is rooted in a sobering reality, as opposed to the glorified outlook of so many other crime dramas -- lends it a sense of thoughtfulness and emotional resonance.

As a result, the slickly produced Food, Inc. is more deeply unsettling than it is out-and-out stomach-turning.

That's some admirably mature stuff for a kid's flick in this day of rampant pandering, but it also helps rob the film of a certain breathless, edge-of-your-seat appeal. In other words, there are lulls here.

A story of hope amid the ruins -- one that everybody can appreciate, no matter their politics.

The deeply resonant Gleason isn't a football movie. Rather, it traffics in universal themes that effectively drill down to the very core of the human condition. As such, everybody has something to gain from what ends up being a multilayered mediation on life.

The result is a satisfyingly gritty tale, more grounded in reality than many entries in the franchise.

This isn’t just a film. It’s a cultural treasure – and, given its unlikely journey – a minor miracle.

Kiarostami is at his best in scenes when a stripped-down, ascetic lyricism resonates with the breadth and intensity of his philosophical concerns. But the film's teasing cop-out of an ending - along with the mounting frustration induced by Badii's veiled motives - ultimately make this prize-winning "Cherry" a faintly bitter-tasting fruit. [29 May 1998, p.L24]

An easy-going gem that is at times funny, at times heartbreaking, at times scary -- but always, unfailingly engaging.

This is a dirty, stinky Western -- the kind where authenticity is the guiding artistic hand and where a layer of filth and grime have seemingly settled over everything but the popcorn in your lap.

This is a film custom-made for dog lovers.

But its behind-the-scenes satire of the peccadilloes of "serious" French filmmaking eventually turns downright pedantic, while the backstage intrigue (much of it hinging on a female staffer's romantic designs on Maggie) is surprisingly tame. [25 July 1997, p.L31]

It triggers a sense of awe, for the pure, natural beauty it allows us to witness; for the raw, ruthless power it captures; and for its towering display of artistry.

It boasts strong acting and a nice dose of suspense.

Mostly it's a celebration and a song of hope that maybe the ever-quickening world will see the error of its ways and once more embrace the staccato song of the humble typewriter.

A freshly drawn slice-of-life drama inspired by Perrier’s own real-life experiences as an online “cam girl,” it deals with decidedly uncomfortable subject matter — the introduction of a 19-year-old young woman into sex work — but it doesn’t approach any of it with judgment or shame.

Here, Lowery isn't trying to convince us of anything, other than the fact that he's got a dandy of a story to tell. Then, he proceeds to deliver it.

As it is, it's little more than an artful rehash -- which means that anyone who wants closure to the story, or to see justice truly served, will have to wait a little longer.

Lee's film is nicely crafted, and offers an up-to-date take on Taiwan's rapidly evolving culture. But as a comedy it's distressingly short on laughs - gentle satire is more what you'll find here - and may seem too reminiscent of a number of other recent Asian features to seem satisfying except to insatiable foodies. [19 Aug 1994, p.L28]

The result is a human drama that quietly argues that the gift of life isn't one to be taken lightly.

Mank is repeatedly brought back from the brink by its uniformly top-shelf craftsmanship, including some wonderful bits of dialogue.

While Pariah starts out as a film with moments of predictability, it evolves into a smart, compelling -- and optimistic -- portrait of heartbreak and hope.

This is the kind of movie that makes you want to sit through the credits, and not for some “hidden” scene featuring superheroes eating shawarma. Rather, it’s because it’s so pleasant you won’t want It Ain’t Over to be over.

A Most Violent Year harks back to the cinema tradition of the 1970s, with its deliberate pace, its simmering tension, its gritty cynicism and its central moral dilemma. At the same time, it has something to say about the way business is done in 2015.

The most impressive thing about Simien's film is his script, which he wrote. With multiple protagonists and multiple storylines to serve, he deftly manages to keep a number of balls in the air -- without losing sight of his film's purpose.

To be fair, del Toro’s “Pinocchio” does, indeed, get a lot of things right. It’s got a nice sense of humor, for example. It is ambitious. It has heart. Where it falters, however, is in its near-total absence of charm.

With its emphasis on relationships and character, Drive can best be described as a thinking man's action film -- or at least, it could if it didn't ultimately feel so oddly slight. As it is, for all of its positives, it functions mostly as a guilty pleasure rather than as a movie that resonates the way, say, "Blue Valentine" does.

A punch-drunk tale whose fitful ramble from Jerry Springer-style family seaminess to "Rocky"-like triumph is elevated enormously by knockout performances.

Here is a film that not only entertains, but also educates and -- thanks to Jodo's deep confidence and energetic artistic optimism -- one that also inspires.

From “Dazed and Confused” to “Boyhood” to “Everybody Wants Some!!,” [Linklater's] become one of Hollywood’s chief purveyors of nostalgia, mining it for both humor and poignance. What’s more, he does it consistently well. With "Apollo 10½," he’s done it again.

Another feather in the cap of Saulnier, who -- now with two impressive features under his belt as director -- is emerging to become one of the more intriguing new voices in Hollywood.

Makes for riveting viewing. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is among the more brisk 2 hours and 10 minutes I've spent in a theater in some time -- and it's easily the most rewarding of this year's summer tentpole films.

The result is a movie built upon big ideas -- and timely ones, too, delivering a message of understanding in this frustrating age of great intolerance -- but also a great story and, thanks to Lee, a wonderfully satisfying cinematic journey.

Without subtitles this time, it also stands a very real chance of migrating out of America's art houses and into its multiplexes, where it can sink its teeth into a whole new audience.

Even if it is at times uncomfortable to watch, The Witness remains riveting, and even important, as an honest and unflinching examination of despair.

Bong's film starts out as a comedy, transforms into a quirky Agatha Christie whodunnit and finishes with an unpredictable Hitchcockian flourish.

All music docs are not created equal. Yes, some are formulaic. But some are beautiful, some are singular, some are marvels of storytelling. And some, like Searching for Sugar Man, are all three.

Arriving with a savage grace, director Darren Aronofsky's nightmare-come-to-life Black Swan cements his reputation not only as one of the more daring filmmakers of his generation, but also as an actor's director of the first order.

Enough Said isn't without the occasional minor formulaic element or the odd narrative contrivance here and there (starting, it must be said, with its very setup). It is, after all, a romantic comedy.

While hardly the sensation its hype promises, the D.A. PennebakerChris Hegedus documentary The War Room offers some droll glimpses behind the scenes at the workings of the 1992 Clinton presidential campaign and its twin masterminds, Cajun firebrand James Carville and cucumber-cool George Stephanopoulos. [4 Feb 1994, p.L26]

Precious is painful, it is harrowing, it is emotionally exhausting. It is also a singular film, one that is as difficult to compare to another as it is to forget.

Any character study must also bring us, and its main character, on a journey. And that's where Gloria Bell, for all of its assets -- and for all of the critical acclaim being heaped upon it -- ultimately stumbles.

It's that end -- the film's final sobering five minutes -- in which Blue Jasmine is at its most effective. Credit is due there to Blanchett's table-setting performance in it and in the hour and half preceding it. It's also due to the courage Allen displays as a storyteller in ending this particular story in the way it has to end.

A dramatic comedy that is light on plot but generous in spirit, a leisurely, understated film that underscores the ever-present modern guilt while -- oddly, given the weightiness of that central conceit -- boasting a satisfying buoyancy.

It's a film for patient moviegoers. But for those moviegoers, it stands to be a rewarding experience.

A captivating portrait of the frailty and the failures of humanity.

Doesn't rise as much as it flounders and frustrates, in what would appear to be a case of a filmmaker prioritizing ego over efficiency, and engaging in generally muddled storytelling.