Girls Like Girls announces Kiyoko as a filmmaker of great emotional maturity, one who can speak to young audiences without pandering to the hyperactive style that dominates the other media they consume. It’s a perfect film for Pride.

If Toy Story 5 doesn’t quite represent peak Pixar, it does find the studio willing to tinker with its established formula in little ways that make a big difference.

The strange world of Georgia Bernstein’s Night Nurse might not be on everyone’s wavelength, and the heightened aesthetic might be alienating. Still, the feeling of alienation is precisely what Bernstein excels at. Her feature debut shines for its uniquely mapped out story, and her distinctively hypnotic style leaves a reverberating impact long after the credits roll.

I Am Frankelda is a love letter to spooky stories and to those who write them. It’s about the agony of being misunderstood, the thrill of creating something only you can see, and the strength that comes from owning your nightmares.

Admirably weird but only intermittently funny, Never Change! never quite reaches the heights of the comedies it so clearly emulates.

[Sarnoski's] greatest accomplishment is crafting beautifully intimate portraits of these earnest subjects, set within aesthetically pleasing arenas that highlight impressive craft and alluring performances. It’s an inventive take on Robin Hood to strip away the merry men, nasty sheriffs, and pining love interests. This presentation is much more somber, yet in a way that conveys a far greater significance. It’s what turns what could have been a needless adaptation into a profound experience.

Despite the well-written screenplay, it still takes great skill to navigate the tonal shifts of June and Lela’s relationship, and both women do superb work.

Ultimately, the success of Stop! That! Train! comes down to one simple question: Is it funny? And the answer is, mostly, yes. With the high ratio of jokes per minute, not all of them are destined to land, and some gags linger too long, slowing down what should be a breakneck pace. But the bits that do work are genuinely hilarious.

Disclosure Day is a film made by a human being who has been asking the same question his entire life and who, finally and beautifully, seems at peace with the answer. Are you ready for the answer?

Like the band itself, Earth, Wind & Fire (To Be Celestial VS That’s the Weight of the World) seeks to honor the past while looking toward the future.

While the film follows a standard rom-com format, the real fun lies in a never-ending funhouse of delightfully unhinged supporting actors.

It feels good to have the Wayans brothers back where they belong, even if Scary Movie isn’t quite up to the level of the first film in the franchise. While it maintains that film’s strengths, the humor doesn’t feel as fresh as it once did. For all their willingness to offend, the Wayanses don’t have anything to say with their jokes, rendering them toothless.

For all the narrative hiccups it sometimes suffers, the film’s bold vision and unique aesthetic herald a fresh new voice on the anime scene, and I greatly anticipate its next work.

The action sequences are banal, the narrative underwhelming, and the acting unextraordinary save for a few standouts. Maybe there is room one day for a thoroughly enjoyable render of this material, but this is sadly not the finest effort.

Lennon’s final words are a bit sullied by this crassly digital malfeasance, to the point that one might consider waiting for the streaming release to look away from the screen, enjoying the interview in its unfiltered glory.

La Gradiva successfully captures an unforgettable, life-altering field trip in 145 minutes.

Backrooms sees Parsons arrive on the cinematic scene as a fully formed filmmaker, with a strong visual style and a knack for creative, engaging storytelling.

It’s an engaging entry point into this well-known historical event, but there’s only enough beneath the surface to make it, at best, a moderately amusing history lesson.

Between the animation style and the decidedly adult content, the film’s ultimate sweetness is completely disarming. It doesn’t come out of nowhere, though, as it’s rooted in the same emotional honesty that marks all of the film’s dialogue.

It’s hard to see Groundswell in anything other than superficial terms. For one, it’s a pretty dull affair, needlessly repetitive, and feels much more like a corporate presentation than a cinematic event. Secondly, its mix of sullen seriousness and winking wryness makes for a tonally bizarre watch, lingering needlessly on given moments while brushing aside real questions of scalability given the global drive for food from an ever-exploding population.

Ben’Imana is a stunning, gorgeously assembled film about a people faced with a level of emotional labor that no one should ideally be forced to surmount.

For all The Birthday Party’s faults, the benefits of her assured direction, a confident and watchable cast, and further dissection of the film’s signature themes of generational trauma are obfuscated by unignorable flaws.

Flawed and forgettable, Colony fails to build toward anything substantial, resulting in a film filled with swarms of zombie-like denizens lacking any real stylistic or narrative bite.

It’s the kind of silly, campy time its intended audience is sure to love, with plenty of moments that evoke joyful applause to accompany the many, many laughs. No matter one’s place in the queer community, and whether or not you’ve set foot in a gym, it’s a guaranteed delight.

Much as its main character tries to untangle seemingly impossible conundrums, viewers of The Samurai and the Prisoner will find themselves leaning in and working hard to discern the film’s intriguing details. It’s not a task for those who look to cinema as an escape, requiring aggressive attention from its audience, as all worthwhile art should.

Directed by Zachary Wigon and starring a brilliant Maika Monroe, Victorian Psycho shines in a sea of gothic horrors for the way it depicts real fears about societal acceptance.

Big on distended bellies and light on belly laughs, “Full Phil” is a head-scratching oddity that is overlong and underwhelming.

Although not as strong as “Plan 75,” Hayakawa draws from her personal experiences to craft a deliberately paced, nostalgic story that warmly touches upon universal themes of grief, childhood imagination, and the bonds of family from this life and beyond.