The year is not over, but I’ve already seen my favorite film of 2015. It’s Thomas McCarthy’s brilliant, responsible, galvanizing and unforgettable Spotlight.

A sensitive, dewy-eyed yet mature performance by Saoirse Ronan is the appealing centerpiece of Brooklyn.

A mildly entertaining but well acted, sumptuously photographed and smartly written comedy with dark undertones about culinary addiction that can only be called “delicious.” See it and then check your cholesterol.

Our Brand Is Crisis adds up to a toothless exercise in missed opportunities that is half cautionary tale, half political satire and oddly insignificant as both.

The physical abuse and emotional anguish sometimes borders on overkill, but the final outcome is overwhelming.

The violence is intense, and at two hours and 12 minutes the movie is too long and the pace too leisurely to sustain it, but I wasn’t bored. When in doubt, bring on the Troglodytes.

Too grim and heartbreaking for some viewers, Room is nevertheless an extraordinary film so powerful and unforgettable that it must be seen.

Mr. Redford doesn’t look like Dan Rather, but displays the same dedication to — and respect for — journalism that he brought to the role of Bob Woodward in "All the President’s Men."

It’s a riveting film and I understood every word.

Because it’s written and directed by slick slasher king Eli Roth (Cabin Fever, Hostel), expect some genuine, well-executed thrills that keep the adrenaline going. This is a good thing, because Keanu Reeves has the adrenaline rush of road kill.

It’s not about Peter Pan, but about what happened before Peter Pan. The noise you hear is J. M. Barrie turning over in his grave.

There’s no humanity in this grave disappointment that justifies the passion his fans feel for the father of the iMac. Steve Jobs and all of the characters around him fail to come to life in any absorbing fashion. They’re not real people; they’re all hashtags.

At least Gong is ravishing, which occasionally takes your mind off the gibberish that is going full tilt around her.

It’s a poignant, relevant and beautifully made film that must not be missed by anyone with a heart and a social conscience.

It’s one of the most important and revelatory films of the year.

A lot of the information in The Martian will be incomprehensible to the lay audience and the climax is…well, not exactly original. But it makes for one hell of an entertaining ride.

Elegant and wrenching, Coming Home is a quiet, haunting masterpiece.

Richard Gere gives his most uncompromising three-dimensional performance in 20 years.

A dismal hack job pretending to be a take on modern relationships.

Ultimately, though, Dirty Weekend is a vague, languid affair.

The real pleasures are not to be found in the sweeping shots of the Great Smoky Mountains but in seeing how Mr. Redford and Mr. Nolte’s characters learn to get along.

Pierce Brosnan’s charm and finesse haven’t been put to good use since "The Matador." That was years ago. Some Kind of Beautiful doesn’t improve his luck at all.

The keenly observed patterns of behavior and the witty, intimate dialogue pay off.

It’s a movie that knocks itself cross-eyed trying to be hip, clever and today about acerbic seniors, but instead it only makes you long for old ladies in aprons exclaiming “Land sakes alive, I smell something burning in the oven!”

After Words is part adventure, part love story, part travelogue, and all as synthetic as rayon.

The problem is the movie never gives us a reason to care about Colin in the first place, or even to dislike him that much, if that’s how we’re supposed to feel. Colin is neutral, a kind of empty vessel, and Mr. Cage is his typical aloof self with a "Con Air" accent.

The movie achieves the kind of rhythm of an opera, alternating between arias of animated poetry and the recitative of normal speech.

Admirable and respectable, it engages you while you’re watching it, then leaves you empty and wanting more.