Emotionally rich, narratively confident, and visually compelling, this is one of the better films of this year’s competitive selection, one that just happens to be so carefully drawn and crafted as to require the modality of animation to make its point.

Time and time again, we’ve heard from Johnny Knoxville that this is the end of “Jackass.” Yet this time, it’s never felt more genuine coming out of his mouth. This sentiment runs throughout “Best and Last,” as it’s the little moments that make this film really feel like a door is closing not only for these guys’ lives but also for those who have watched them all this time.

Alcock’s work as an actress comes across as similar to how her character must feel: all alone in a world working against her.

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.

Jude forces us into discomfort, looping cultural critique into grotesque comedy. If he intended to hold a mirror to the digital age’s self-destructive behaviors, sucking identity, myth, even creativity into an algorithmic blender, “Dracula” surely succeeds. It’s rattling, ridiculous, and in its own way, wholly necessary, though not always sustainable over its nearly three hours of absurdity.

While not quite at his satirical best, The Diary of a Chambermaid has a more muted tone that helps foreground the maturity of Jude’s form and continues the quieter tension he began exploring after the balls-to-the-wall “Dracula.” Not a story of unrest, but rather one of rest against the friction of your surroundings.

Powered by excellent performances from Sophie Okonedo and India Amarteifio, who convey the multitudes of a fascinating titular character, “Clarissa” shines as a unique perspective on Woolf and exemplifies the Esiri brothers’ compelling vision as filmmakers.

It’s short, but this is a well-made sports documentary that explores a complex figure with insight and candor. It’s also sufficiently well-balanced to ensure that there is something here for football fans and non-football fans alike.

It’s an respectful portrait that will captivate those interested in Avedon’s life.

Atonement is a powerful human drama about the often elusive nature of forgiveness.

Above all, it’s a sensitive piece of storytelling that reaches a place of hopefulness, not in light of the tough subject matter of war, but in spite of it.

It’s a brilliant concept for an historical film, but the way Marre tells his relatives’ unheroic story would’ve been better served by a more discerning eye on the film’s runtime.

It’s an honest, melancholy tale that pushes against the typical idea of the saintlike sufferer, instead portraying the central character as a credibly flawed individual. And just as he always does, Ira Sachs rejects stereotypes and expectations to deliver something that feels candidly close to life.

As a work of historical fiction, the film strikes a resonant chord. Bleak in its relevance today, it’s an intense watch made compelling by an extraordinary lead performance at the center.

Bitter Christmas falls into the category of Almodóvar films that feature the vibrant touchstones of his style, but lack the bite that makes you want to revisit the story and characters.

While Øvredal’s direction and the lead performances carry the film through any rough patches, it can get quite rough. Burgess and Donohue have plenty of great ideas, but don’t seem to have edited any of them, resulting in a story that can be frustrating.

All in all, Propeller One-Way Night Coach may be slightly more interesting from a meta perspective than a strictly cinematic one. Still, the sincerity that permeates every frame makes up for a lot of its shortcomings. It’s unlikely to cater to many people outside of Travolta’s most ardent fanbase, but even on those terms, it’s an enjoyable way to spend an hour in the sky.

The film seems disinterested in carrying on any discussion itself, even in an obtuse way. Perhaps that’s the idea: that we’re meant to completely project our assessment onto the film rather than follow nonexistent leads from Harari as to his intention. But ultimately, the film is too vacant, too aimless, and worst of all, too dull to inspire much worthwhile discussion.

Minotaur is another unmistakably political, bleak, and methodical work from one of our best storytellers.

Even though there are still endless possibilities to discuss the aftermath of these great conflicts spread throughout history, this one’s execution is too flawed to be entirely riveting, despite some components being still worthy of praise.

It’s a mean, nasty neo-giallo, filled with the genre’s standards: gorgeously odd visuals, colorful lighting, disparate performance qualities, questionable morals, and brutal moments of sudden violence. To those who are prepared for it and willing to go hand in hand with Refn on his colorful, nonsensical journey, it’s an adventure to be remembered, like a nightmare that leaves an indelible mark on the psyche.

What’s present here is one of the most visually horrid and banal “Star Wars” creations to date. Is the allure of getting children in a theater to see Grogu enough to keep this franchise afloat and, more importantly, on the big screen? Who’s to say, but if it’s any indication of what the next decade of storytelling for the “Star Wars” universe will be, then we’re in deep trouble.

It’s not an easy watch, intentionally so, but Herry delivers a shockingly buoyant, propulsive film about the perils and pitfalls of addiction.

Mungiu trusts the audience to arrive at their own conclusions as he casts the film out into dark, uncertain waters, with us unsure where exactly it is headed next, yet continuing forward all the same, much like people and society themselves, regardless of whether we are ready for it or not.

It all makes one wonder why any of the original team returned for a sequel that not only undoes some of the far more impactful emotional beats of the final season but also leaves audiences in limbo about whether they even want to see Jack Ryan suit up for another disaster to solve.

A non-stop spectacle unlike any other. I hoped it would be awesome, and somehow, against all odds, I’m ready for more.

Sorogoyen’s film meanders, and some of his visual flourishes are more puzzling than profound. Still, the two lead performances and one superb scene later in the film elevate the entire affair.

There are luminous glimmers of promise scattered throughout “Sheep in the Box,” and each speaks to a filmmaker of immense creativity and thoughtful sensibilities—unfortunately, those glimmers amount to a disappointingly disorienting feature.

There are flashes throughout of the filmmaker at his absolute best, enough to remind audiences why Gray remains one of America’s most compelling storytellers, but taken as a whole, Paper Tiger ultimately feels like a lesser entry in his filmography, let alone the crime genre, which he has dabbled in on more than one occasion.

Seydoux’s gut-wrenching performance at the center of Gentle Monster, combined with a sensitive approach to horrifying subject matter, makes a tough watch equally compelling.

It’s a heartwarming film about queer nightlife, fatherhood, self-worth, and growing up long after society says you should have already done so. More than anything, it understands that redemption isn’t about becoming perfect. Sometimes it’s simply about finally permitting yourself to change, one step at a time.

All of a Sudden is a two-pronged attack on the head and the heart, rewarding viewers for their patience and attention by leaving them emotionally and intellectually affected in a way that will last long after the credits end.

Parallel Tales unspools away from sense and a compelling drive and instead turns out to be a monotonous, limp misfire.

The Balloonists is a wild ride, and a captivating journey through this world of adventure. It’s also a deeply human story, one where hubris and courage mix like the gasses aboard the vessel, sometimes making things rise to implausible heights, sometimes crashing to the ground.

With Drucker single-handedly carrying the film’s emotional core on her shoulders, any minor quibbles instantly melt into afterthoughts, while her exquisite work remains at the forefront.

It’s easy to feel left behind by the film’s intentions. But no matter viewers’ specific level of interpretation, what Schoenbrun does with the slasher genre, using it as a springboard to explore ideas that clearly resonate with them, is compellingly intelligent and consistently fascinating.

In the end, Magic Hour is quite a mixed experience. There are plenty of real, raw emotions on the screen and the page, but the screenplay feels too repetitive and surface-level for most of the runtime.

The final notes are disappointingly underwhelming, but the emotional journey leaves a lasting impression.

Koji Fukada’s lovely film offers up unobtrusive but valuable lessons on the importance of accepting one’s reality while not shying away from reaching for what’s desired.

Balagov is a fearless filmmaker, unafraid of showing what many directors would avoid. And while that uncompromising spirit has served him well in the past, here it seems that some self-imposed guidelines would’ve spared him from crafting something so purposelessly unpleasant.

Each and every artistic element works in lockstep to create another exquisite Pawlikowski film.

The film’s adherence to these genre cliches, along with the characters’ very one-note motivations, holds “LifeHack“ back from reaching the tier of excellent heist films and, more importantly, settles for the best that a screenlife film can be.

The whimsical tone becomes repetitive at times, and the recurring flashbacks to Antoine’s relationship with Irene often slows the film’s narrative momentum. Additionally, the film nearly collapses under the weight of its lofty ambitions in the final act, only to dodge a potentially disastrous conclusion. However, the believability of Antoine and Suzanne’s shared journey holds firm.

Joker: Folie à Deux does many things right to deliver a fresh and unique sequel to the dark story of Arthur Fleck.

Without a doubt, The Furious is not only the best action film of the year so far, but the best action onscreen since maybe since John Wick 4.

Though the documentary remains fairly light overall, its brief reflections on grief land with genuine poignancy.

On A String is a gentle film; even its more satirical elements aren’t particularly prickly. That softness, combined with extremely low dramatic energy, unfortunately, means that it’s not always the most enthralling film, and its abrupt ending (and super short runtime) gives it the impression of inconsequentiality.

Is God Is has an infectious, rambunctious energy that wraps you up in the drama and sweeps you along with every wave of emotion. Thanks to the fun that Harris injects throughout, whether it’s a moment of sisterly bonding or a moment of visual flair, it’s a bold, brutal blast, and one of the best debuts of the year. At the very least, it announces Aleshea Harris as a major new voice in cinema.

This isn’t just some quirky look at an obscure American event and subculture or a love letter to the filmmaker’s home state; it’s a sly indictment of 21st-century America, wrapped up in what looks like a trashy thrill ride. It is pretty thrilling, to be sure, but much like how our intrepid hunters learn that the hunt is much more driving around in the dark than stalking and killing snakes, it’s not what you expect. For both the hunters and the audience, that’s for the best.

The School Duel is, at its core, a savage satire about a society so obsessed with its right to bear arms that it sacrifices its own children on the altar of nationalism. It dares to ask if patriotism has a limit and what happens when you blow past it. In doing so, Wiseman Jr. doesn’t just twist the narrative. He detonates it.

The film’s message is less about the remarkably bright creatures themselves, and more about the power of finding healing and solace in community. It’s a forgettable yet instantly re-watchable, feel-good story that tugs on your heartstrings and knows how to do it.

Billie Eilish Hit Me Hard and Soft: The Tour Live in 3D is the result of two very innovative artists joining forces to combine their artistry and create one of the greatest concert movies to date. It is the magic of music and film.

The story still isn’t the most captivating and has another bit of frustrating sequel bait that muddies some arcs towards the finale, but it has a clearer sense of focus, at least putting the exciting sequences to the forefront. The filmmaking still has a bit of a stiltedness to it, but it leans further into an energizing tone that is far more engrossing.

With a smart script that reclaims stigmatized narratives, they’ve made a thoughtful documentary that explores sex work through an imaginative and humanistic lens.

Swapped is a perfectly serviceable animated film that younger viewers will connect with. Unfortunately, despite flashes of inspiration, it suffers from dreaded forgettability; it’s too reminiscent of recent, better films with similar plots, tropes, and themes, and never quite finds the spark it needs to stand out.

The potential for a much more engrossing venture is sadly bypassed for a merely passable showcase.

It may not always be easy to thoroughly enjoy a work like “Blue Film” because of its tough subject matter. Nobody wants to see an entirely sympathetic perspective of a person who has committed some of the most horrible deeds imaginable. But the strength of the film is not in seeking to answer those pure moral questions. It thrives in that gray area, contemplating the pain that leads people to the lives they end up creating for themselves.

While The Devil Wears Prada 2 isn’t too sweet, it could certainly use more sour notes. The callbacks to the first film get the balance mostly right, but outside of those nicely judged moments, the film can sometimes feel like Miranda struggling with the new HR guidelines: Trying to be biting, but turning out toothless.

It’s a tale as old as time, but the filmmaking basks in its luxurious style as the performances do their best to create captivating portraits of their own. There may not be too much distinctiveness from what’s on the page outside of the lack of talking, but sometimes words fail. Action is needed, and this has more than enough to satisfy.

Two Pianos is at once a story about identity, aging musicians, memory (and the loss of it), the dangers of pragmatism, the treatment of young music prodigies and how it affects them as they age, overcoming addiction, and the lies we tell ourselves and others to justify our choices. All of these ideas are connected, but none of them rise to the top to become an overarching theme that unites them all.

Even in a flawed film like this, the action remains inventive.

There are very dark chapters in Michael Jackson’s life that one would not expect a film with the full endorsement of his estate to approve. It’s understandable, even expected, for these kinds of works. But what makes “Michael“ come underneath that generously low bar is that it refuses to paint its subject as anything less than saintly. It truly feels like this version of Jackson has been deified, shown to be consumed by his talent but without any dramatic stakes to accompany his triumphs.

Ultimately, Pizza Movie’s title not only reveals a major plot point but also captures the film’s overall energy and weight. It’s generally enjoyable while being consumed, but afterward, it may not feel like a fully satisfying or nourishing cinematic meal.

When a sports drama fails to generate any real sense of exhilaration, whether in its protagonist’s climb back to the top or in the stakes surrounding his personal life, it ultimately falls short of its intentions. There is some fleeting satisfaction in watching a punch connect, aided by sound mixing that gives each blow a sense of weight, but beyond that, there is little here that truly lands.

Mermaid, despite its flaws, is enjoyable enough for its unique depiction of mermaids and its portrayal of a “Florida man” come to life. Sure, the title is unoriginal, but its presentation is not. Of course, it’s nowhere near as good as “Splash,” but it doesn’t need to be.

Anyone seeking something with more depth will not find it here, but there are still worthy stories to tell.

Bunnylovr is another attempt to examine the melancholy that is especially prevalent among the young. What it gleams is an intriguing portrait, but it is also inconsistently engaging.

This is a thoroughly enjoyable mixture of period drama, romance, and a coming-of-age story that’s extremely rewarding in its thoughtful central theme of the connection between past and future.

What’s most frustrating about Lee Cronin’s The Mummy is how tonally inconsistent it becomes. Yes, it finds a way to inject some delightful horror imagery that’s captivating, at least in the way that repulsive acts of over-the-top carnage can appease those sickos out there. However, this story does not come across as if that tone was top of mind.

Perhaps “Lorne” entertains more than it informs, but somehow, that feels exactly right.

Lowery, clearly fascinated by the plight of the modern pop star, has made “Mother Mary” with both the fervor of a fan and the insight of a fellow artist. The questions the film asks about the identity of pop stars as well as the ownership of their music, their image, and their very souls don’t all have answers, and Lowery doesn’t provide them. He does, however, provide plenty of food for thought as he asks these questions, interrogating the relationship between artists and their audience and what each owes the other.