As someone who absolutely loves any kind of a crime film, “How To Make A Killing” can be entertaining at times as a morality play wrapped in designer suits and generational spite. It’s juggling a lot more than it needs to, and it never fully synthesizes its most perceptive ideas, but it’s powered by another star performance from Powell, keeping it barely afloat.

For some, its extremity will be alienating; for others, its audacity will be exhilarating. “Rosebush Pruning” is undeniably well crafted, but as an absurdist comedy, it ultimately feels more provocative than profound.

All the ingredients for a good movie, or at the very least a fun one, are present in Cold Storge: A charismatic and talented ensemble, a clever story, and an overall sense of playfulness that extends from the effects work to the production design of the 24-hour self-storage facility built over the old government bunker used to contain the fungus. However, that sense of playfulness doesn’t extend to the overall tone, leaving the movie feeling like a wasted opportunity.

Verbinski directs with a striking visual style that punctuates the film’s many sight gags while establishing a grunge-inflected aesthetic suggestive of impending urban decay.

Without a shred of embarrassment or irony in sight, The Napa Boys is a film made by people who believe in their sense of humor and hope to share it with audiences in a crowded room to laugh together.

Many films like this may exist, and many more will certainly follow. But Layton’s attempts to differentiate this particular crime film will leave audiences with enough worthy moments to linger on, even if the overall impact is modest.

For purists, this approach may be considered sacrilegious. For others, it will be exhilarating. There is no denying that Wuthering Heights will inspire fierce debate. But there is also no denying its craft, ambition, and emotional conviction.

It is a classic underdog story wrapped in bold animation, infectious energy, and real heart.

Exit 8 shows video game adaptations can still have a sense of originality, both narratively and technically.

With stellar stylization and a soundtrack full of female-driven punk rock, it hilariously skewers the blatant sexism in the chess world while dramatizing gripping matches. A crowd-pleasing documentary.

Volpe’s direction and the stoic pace keep Frank and Louis at arm’s length, never truly letting us engage with them on a deeper level.

While the film falls into the same pitfalls most celebrity documentaries are bound to repeat, Alvarado not only crafts a suitable tribute to one of the more underappreciated artists in American history but also shines a light on a subset of Latino culture that deserves its time in the limelight.

Alex Gibney’s documentary stands as a testament to the power of art in any form to push back against both abstract and real forms of oppression.

The subjects here are soulful in their recollections and captivating as they hold court. Even with missed opportunities for an even deeper understanding, what is present is still a worthwhile discovery.

Wicker is a sweet, gently moving love story at its core that reminds its audience that the most effective and necessary traits for a successful relationship of any kind are simple honesty and respect.

Led by a terrifically tender performance by John Turturro, it’s a classy, enjoyable, lovely film about a man out of time, coming to terms with the fact that the world he occupies is no longer the world he knows.

The writing is original, rich, and effective, ramping up tension until it reaches a graphic, brutal crescendo in the third act.

While the sprawling storytelling can be disjointed at times, and some topics fall short of intrigue, “The Oldest Person in the World” offers several impactful moments to reflect meaningfully on aging. Green follows through on his compulsion and explores a fascinating subject with curiosity, while introducing us to an equally fascinating group of individuals from around the world.

There’s a century worth of experiences packed into this room to glean from, and nearly all of it is an enthralling exercise.

One of the most impactful documentaries in recent years.

Like the titular woman herself, the film from co-directors Judd Apatow and Neil Berkeley is equally hilarious and unafraid to be very, very real, beckoning viewers in like a close friend and rewarding them with laughs and profound insight.

The jokes are plentiful in quantity but certainly not in quality, and the shiny, cheap-looking filmmaking itself doesn’t make it any easier on the eyes than it is on the ears. And while it certainly has a heart, thanks in huge part to the talented ensemble of funny performers, it doesn’t have the brains or the nerve to be clever or daring in its comedy.

A handful of compelling sequences of physical action cannot save a narrative weighed down by a mundane plot, pedestrian characters, and an intolerably sluggish filmmaking style.

Stephanie Ahn offers an evocative portrait of the immigrant experience, moving beyond surface observation to investigate the visceral, internal world of children raised in the crosshairs of cultural expectation and personal identity.

The Shitheads is one hell of a ride, with nonstop laughs and absurd, shocking turns around every corner.

Rare are comedies this funny and this mature. Its rich themes hit home, especially for anyone in a long-term relationship.

Raimi’s efforts as director do a lot to bring out a campy tone amid the violence, which makes for an engaging ride. The commitment from McAdams and O’Brien goes a long way toward elevating their characters, and watching their changing dynamic unfold is intriguing. Yet these elements are fighting against a script that weighs down the other inventive aspects of the performances and filmmaking. The narrative is too broad and can’t sustain itself over this runtime.

The Wrecking Crew simply relegates itself to the walls of screensaver cinema, destined to be ambient background noise.