The best thing about Super 8, by far, are the kids, all perfectly cast. The script does a much better job making them believable and real than the adults...The rest of the movie steals shamelessly from...

War Horse is a don't-miss Spielberg classic that reaches true perfection.

Candyman feels like a reclamation project of sorts. One that will scare the pants off of you, yes, but also one that adds depth and resonance to the once-static slasher format.

El Conde is not Larraín’s best work, weighing itself down with plot and a few too many ideas to properly explore, but it is still quite good. Few directors take risks this big, and though this film doesn’t yield the most rewards, it’s a fascinatingly project.

This three-hander has an honesty and a momentum that I found grudgingly rewarding.

Grim, grisly and downright sickening, Midsommar is a feel-bad horror film about suicide, mercy killings, insanity, graphic nudity, religious hysteria, and the kind of grotesque imagery that exists for no other reason than shock value.

It’s a tearjerker at times, sure, but what remains is how much a person can endure under impossible circumstances. How can someone be this resilient? It seems unknowable, but movies like this help us to get closer to the truth of our existence. It’s a difficult watch, but an important one.

Although it eventually loses staying power, Lynne Ramsay’s ferocious relationship drama Die, My Love quickly seeps beneath your skin, practically holding you hostage in its initial half.

Cooper’s latest is clearly the output of someone who has been through personal anguish, and like Alex Novak, he attempts to use his pain as the basis for not just something healing but something hilarious, albeit something deeply imperfect, too.

Director McQueen shares no primal truths, offers no resolutions, and the movie seems pointless. It seems almost wicked to spread on all that enticement and titillation, and then throw the sandwich away.

People who ask nothing more for their money than a lot of nerve-scrambling computerized special effects might get through Doctor Strange, another in a long line of lengthy, stupid and unbearable Marvel Studios comic books on film, with minimal brain damage.

Gunn is much better suited to the material than either David Ayer or the trailer house that re-cut the previous film, though while the end result is gorier, funnier and occasionally more heartfelt, it doesn’t quite coalesce into something totally fun, or totally meaningful.

Lena Dunham makes a 98-minute home video seem like 98 days of hard labor.

Informative, fascinating and surprisingly funny documentary.

Ms. Moore shares her journey with boundless generosity. She makes you feel what it’s like to lose the wind beneath your wings.

The footage is daring, dangerous filmmaking, and though it shows some of humanity’s lowest impulses, Bobi’s ultimate message of optimism for Uganda’s future shines through.

When Whannell’s movie is at its best, the audience is not just a witness to the terror; we are part of the machinery that inflicts it. Which is not to say that — when it works — this remake of James Whale’s 1933 classic is a success born of camera placement, special effects, or even conceptual daring.

Originally planned as a vehicle for Ben Affleck’s bland Batman, Reeves’ version hits left of center, offering a vision of the character not yet explored on film.

The manner in which Mikkelsen, the former Danish gymnast and dancer we chiefly know for his suave villains in 2006’s "Casino Royale" and the NBC series "Hannibal," plays off his largely mute charge is simply extraordinary.

This is an intimate story, sometimes uncomfortably so, but it’s also an expansive one, about whether our societies allow people to live outside prescribed boxes and whether it accepts them when they do.

Another must-see movie this year-end awards season (the other one is The Theory of Everything) is the brilliant encapsulation of one of the greatest stories of our time — the genius, heroism and ultimately shameful destruction of Alan Turing.

Marvel's latest movie feels just as sanitized and safe as its other products, even with its killer cast and talented director Destin Daniel Cretton.

Bizarre, original and loaded with revelatory surprises with every turn of the page, The Menu uses the culture of haute cuisine as a metaphor for the spit-roasted values of high society, with results that are vicious, delicious, and horrifying.

Heretic’s fatal flaw lies in its very conceit. The film seems to have forgotten that when playing cat-and-mouse games, the cat, at least, is meant to be having fun. Here no one is—not Grant and least of all, not us.

The battle here is between the sincerity of the filmmakers’ intentions and the cynicism driving the film’s creation.

It’s far superior to what usually comes out of the British slums in the genre of gangland thrillers.

The saga of the guy who was the Tom Cruise of the 1950s now forms the shadow and substance of a funny, sad, meticulously researched and painstakingly detailed documentary, Rock Hudson: All That Heaven Allowed.

The pace is always zippy but rarely hyper, and there is just enough space for the film’s many emotional beats to resonate.