Dogman is essentially one long, twisted fuse burning toward an inevitable explosion. If the results are too conspicuously manipulated to feel cathartic, there’s no denying a certain dark poetry to this old-fashioned film with its whiplash of modern violence and bitter futility.

It’s a powerfully emotional story built on a foundation of surprising historical accuracy. This film treats us to a cross-section of the civilian experience of World War II that isn’t typically thought about.

The Brink, director Alison Klayman’s year-long cinema verité portrait of Steve Bannon, is unlikely to change anyone’s mind about Donald Trump’s political strategist, who helped connect the candidate to white nationalists before falling out of favour.

A genuine crowd pleaser. But its commitment to serving the hero’s legacy frequently brings the fun to a grinding halt. Not to worry though, the fun manages to resurface even after the film flounders in a blaze of super-human gobbledygook involving evil scientists, mythical demons, and a snarky wizard.

The reward of the film is watching these two consummate performers playing off each other. Moore is characteristically empathetic and sincere. Swinton, by contrast, is enigmatic and controlling as they wrestle with their different agendas and find mutual consolation in their friendship.

Penélope Cruz anchors a lightly drawn drama about a family in a quiet state of turmoil in the Italian film L’Immensitá.

Thomas von Steinaecker’s documentary, Werner Herzog: Radical Dreamer, offers an enjoyable, if fairly light portrait of the German filmmaker and survey of his 60-plus year career.

While so many movies lack a decent wrap-up, Theatre Camp goes out on a high note. You might not walk out humming show tunes, but you will leave smiling. After all, no one does curtain calls better than theatre people.

Tyrnauer’s film doesn’t seem to trust its material enough to allow the power of the stories to unfold without a constant hammering of a B-level-journalism music soundtrack — the kind best-suited for tabloid news programs. And the film’s unwavering criticism of Cohn (however warranted it might be) reduces an otherwise gripping biographical story into a sensationalized television-ready expose.

Where New Order broadly surveyed and compartmentalized Mexico’s upper and lower classes, Sundown pretty much rests its entire narrative on one man, wealthy British business owner Neil Bennett — played with few words but (oxymoron alert) riveting impassivity by Tim Roth.

Companion ultimately delivers on three levels. It’s a creepy (and occasionally bloody, and also funny) thriller. It’s a whodunit, or maybe a whatdunit. And it’s a philosophical door-opener into questions to ask of ourselves when it comes to our computational creations — what to make of them, whether and how much to feel for them, whether we owe them anything.

The good news is that director James Mangold has made a rich, vibrant movie chronicling four key years in Dylan’s life and career without demystifying either the man or his creative process. Together with a uniformly brilliant cast, he’s made one of the best films of 2024.

For sure, the film is heartwarming, and it is fun to watch Dindim waddle around and engage with the human world, adopting Joao as a family member. But that’s not quite enough to overcome the film’s problems.

The Bikeriders sparks enough interest to hint at the possibility of stronger stories being washed away in the flow of an unfocused narrative. There are good stories in The Bikeriders, fleshed out within an inch of their potential.

A hybrid action/war/revenge film with enough octane to blast Michael Bay out of competition.

A gentle and affecting drama from directors David Siegel and Scott McGehee about grief, loss, and the unconditional love available from a dog.

The Justice of Bunny King, which follows the story of a woman at odds with the system, is a showcase for the superb Australian actress Essie Davis.

An audacious and absurdly entertaining genre-hopping musical thriller set in Mexico, Emilia Pérez tells the tale of a drug cartel boss who enlists the talents of a junior lawyer, played by a Zoë Saldaña, to help him undergo gender-affirming surgery, then entangles her in his quest for redemption.

There’s violence aplenty, which is another reason the John Wick reference has proven so sticky.

Ant-Man and the Wasp moves, mainly on the strength of snappy repartee and visuals. Ignore the plot and live in the moment – kind of a quantum concept right there – and it’s entertaining enough.

Food, Inc. 2 is a gobsmacking compendium of scary information about food systems and monopolies, what we eat, what it does to us and what will happen next.

Hovering over Together Together is the expectation that two people who enjoy each other’s company as much as Matt and Anna do will eventually end up together. Beckwith plays with this trope nicely.

There’s an entertaining commitment to the story and its references in Saint-Narcisse (a real place that may be impossible to photograph badly, such is the natural beauty that surrounds this demented tale). And La Bruce knows a striking leading man when he casts one.

The scenes feel like they've come straight out of 1970s and 80s B-comedies, outdated and out of step with the main plot, which feels richer in comparison. It’s distracting enough to slow the movie down.

It aims to be easy-going, entertaining and joyful, without being taxing or too stressful. At the same time, its reluctance to dig too deeply robs it of some of its emotion and makes it feel superficial.

Watching this film is a lesson in history. It’s detailed, accurate and meticulous in its presentation of a human drama that realistically could have happened. When you hear about Viggo’s attention to history, this is a western story that becomes and grittier and accurate look into the past and a lesson in history.

Deft in its playful mockery of the broad acting and absurd plot twists of the soap genre, it somehow maintains a genial tone, despite references to terrorism, war, and daily humiliations of the occupation.

Legacies don’t come more dazzling. Sidney is a fitting tribute.

Visually opulent as only a Guillermo del Toro movie can be with gorgeously detailed, period-perfect costumes and interiors and a marquee cast, the noir thriller Nightmare Alley checks all the grand boxes of the genre. Yet the film feels emotionally inert, stacked with unsympathetic, strangely uncharismatic characters that defy empathy. Or worse: defy abiding interest.

I Swear is what’s usually described as a “crowd pleaser” but there is an issue with the way the film conveys the alienation John Davidson feels. A viewer gets a pile-on of terrible events rather than the deep character dive required for emotional investment.

Late Night is a light-hearted comedy with something to say and an excellent cast, that is unfortunately hobbled by a storyline that doesn’t quite add up.

Weird: The Al Yankovic Story is a platform for comedy as a burlesque of drama, with enough winks, pop references and silliness to keep the premise going. Funny stuff.

The emotional tone here is sympathetic and elegiac, and since both men have a way with words, often absorbing. Though there is little here that won’t be known by fans of the writers, the format of the interviews is striking.

Only the River Flows — based on the novel Mistakes by the River by Yu Hua — runs a tight 102 minutes but crams a lot of atmosphere into that time, moments of high drama interspersed with bizarre humour.

Filmmakers Dan Geller and Dayna Goldfine, inspired by the Alan Light’s book The Holy or the Broken: Leonard Cohen, Jeff Buckley & the Unlikely Ascent of Hallelujah, leave almost no stone unturned in their quest to examine the enduring appeal of “Hallelujah” across the years and mediums.

Last Take: Rust and the Story of Halyna is informative (albeit distressing) but doesn’t offer any final answers about the accident that cost Hutchins her life.

The movie looks pretty good, given that it’s small budget effort, and it achieves a sense of tension. But beyond that, the result is frustrating.

It’s a rare thing to see a movie about failure that a) is plays like a gentle rom com, and b) is not about utter neurosis. But Standing Up, Falling Down is a small sweet, slightly flawed movie that is both of those things.

The Cleaners is a doc of remarkable access and a feast for thought.

Carlos López Estrada, who directed 2018’s Oakland-set Blindspotting, developed this original “spoken word musical” from the work of young Los Angelean poets into a sort of contemporary version of Fame.

Materialists is fun and satisfying and, thanks its wonderful cast, full of tender sweetness.

In the end, The Phoenician Scheme has a warm and beating heart.

Sims-Fewer clearly follows her vision, and paints an unsettling picture with sure strokes. I look forward to more.

There aren’t zombies rampaging through Norwegian director Thea Hvistendahl’s quiet film. Instead, the spare, slow-paced, thoughtful film is an affecting story about coping with grief.

The dialogue is clunky at times, and the forced four-narrative format means no character is really fleshed out. But the movie finds its heart and its footing in the last act with Danny’s story and a redemptive finale.

If you’re yearning for a Western with a vintage feel, and a touch of mythos, writer/director Potsy Ponciroli’s homage to the genre, Old Henry will nicely fill that bill.

Anchored by a superb performance by Emily Watson, God’s Creatures is a small, quiet film that packs a surprising punch.

Censor is an off-brand horror treat that walks the distance between artistic freedom and the scrutiny of morbid excess to which the title refers.

Rocketman is as fabulously mercurial and debauched as its subject; anything less would have been futile and disappointing.

Roh is a simple story, fueled entirely by atmosphere.

It would be easy to simply recount the stages and progressions of growing up, coming age, self-discovery, and sexual awakenings. Wildhood is all that, but it also dips into identity issues that run deeper than what is affected visual clues and by the preference of touch.

The humour remains, only now there is an added charm missing from previous installments. That charm is courtesy of the movie’s protagonists, a typically atypical family, and their equally quirky neighbours. Including a lovelorn teen boy and an old dude with a shotgun.

It is also astonishingly tender and very human despite its fantastical premise, which rivals any superhero film for boldness of imagination yet summons uncommon emotional heft.

The Vigil is a satisfying work of suspense and mystery with a few well-executed jump scares.

I Am Greta is a wonderful, rich documentary and at points it moved me to tears.

Penguins is the latest of DisneyNature’s wildlife documentary features, and in many ways among the best. There’s much to admire in it, but its devotion to a family-friendly tone is often at odds with the astounding footage onscreen.

It’s an easygoing, highly enjoyable look at the life and considerable influence of Julia Child.

Green Book is not the deepest depiction of racism, but it is a funny and heartwarming depiction of a friendship, forged in a car.

A film that wants to be a metaphor for something, the French film The Animal Kingdom is like an edgeless, absurdist high school version of The Island of Doctor Moreau.

Boy Erased isn’t the powerhouse that it could have been. But the movie has heart and soul. And, given that Gay Conversion Therapy centers still exist, the story at the core of the film is an important one.

More care for pacing and character development, and less focus on moment-by-moment wow-factor, would have made a less strenuous film. Still, the sheer exuberance and skill of the visual design and performances are uplifting.

Bodies Bodies Bodies, boosted by an excellent mostly Gen Z cast, cleverly employs all the usual tropes in a way that feels fresh and fun.

The Piano Lesson is a hugely energetic, albeit often bittersweet, film.

However you define it, it’s globally good fun.

While most romantic melodramas and rom-coms play with the idea of destiny, the bittersweet Japanese oddity Asako I & II makes it something of a central character.

Orwell: 2+2=5 is food for thought for sure, practically an all-you-can-eat buffet of thoughts. As a statement, it is all over the map. But as an experiential representation of Orwell’s warnings-come-true, it is worth seeing.

There are good reasons for an action film to be two-and-a-half hours long. Having to devote dozens of extra pages of dialogue to constantly explaining itself isn’t one of them.

She Paradise, which runs a brief 71 minutes, is raw in more than one sense. The characters are thinly developed, and the dance sequences, as robust as they are, could be more dynamically shot. On the plus side, Nestor — with her watchful quiet manner — is persuasive as a young woman awkwardly finding her way, and the other women are forceful presence.

There’s a list of pros and cons for this stop-motion animation collaboration between Jordan Peele and Henry Selick that merit the attention it got at TIFF this past September. But sadly, Wendell & Wild is just not wild enough.

The complicated part of Huda’s Salon, and the riskiest in terms of holding the audience, is that this is actually the story of two women: Not just Reem, but that of the salon keeper, Huda.

It’s impossible to overstate the range of emotions, from heartbreak to delight to humility, conjured by the new documentary Blink, which is also visually dazzling thanks to its pedigree as a National Geographic Documentary.

An interesting if rote, talking head–style film about a woman for whom fame was a constant battle but whose shadow stretched longer than her slight frame, a point highlighted often (if not always convincingly) throughout Suzi Q.

Having finally honed the most enjoyably human superhero in the Marvel Universe, it seems “off” to want to ramp him up with tech.

Echo In the Canyon is an affectionate look at the pop music that came out of the Laurel Canyon area of Los Angeles in the mid-‘60s, a period that the film argues quite effectively, was hugely influential.

If The Old Oak is indeed the last film of the master, it’s a fitting sendoff for a director whose work will continue to echo for at least as long as Durham Cathedral has been standing.

Beauty and loss hold hands in Dreaming Walls: Inside the Chelsea Hotel, an intimate and impressionistic documentary about New York’s storied Chelsea Hotel from Belgian filmmakers, Amélie van Elmbt and Maya Duverdier.

One Life is slow, old-fashioned storytelling. Both Hopkins and Flynn work to keep things tethered; children in peril are subject material that leans easily into the maudlin, but that’s avoided here, mostly courtesy of these performances.

For the old fans, there are a few splashes of Moore’s caustic levity.

The argument, these days, is that too many films are about sensation. Big action movies, superhero movies, movies that deliver a lot of adrenaline and thrills but really don’t ask much of the viewer. With his latest film The Passengers of the Night, French director Mikhaël Hers goes in the opposite direction, making a movie that resists manipulation and drama.

It’s ambitious, but not as much fun as it wants to be.

Sacramento is a well-made, well-acted comedy drama that does just about everything right and almost nothing unexpected.

Though it kind of loses track of its marquee title character mid-movie, Marianne & Leonard: Words of Love is a must-watch for Cohen fans, with copious concert and backstage footage. It is also a snapshot of a time, and of hedonistic artistic idealism.

The Harder They Fall aims for, and mostly hits the target, with a double-barreled blast of entertainment and historical reclamation.

The Sadness is good. Not just genre-specific good, but cinema good. And even when it arrives at the inevitable ‘who are the real monsters’ scene, The Sadness still has bite.

Out Come the Wolves director/co-writer Adam MacDonald keeps us guessing until practically the final frame as to how it’s all going to play out in this finely crafted sylvan thriller.

Oliveros keeps the pressure high in his briskly running film that’s propelled by a bloopy, squelchy soundtrack and a volley between harried behind-the-scenes scenes and stage-managed on-set pieces. The script drops enough red herrings to keep everyone guessing about everyone else’s agendas, elevating an otherwise straightforward story.

The new Netflix documentary Marty, Life Is Short is a portrait of the man and the artist, that prioritizes heart and affection and doesn't pretend otherwise. And it’s not just affection for the film’s subject.

A strong ensemble cast ably supports Jacobs as she navigates palpable feelings of inadequacy and misguided affection.

In the current moment, with our wary physical distancing and awkward artificial socializing, Family Romance LLC’s gaze into the uncanny valley absolutely chimes with the times.

If you can unshackle the film from its creaky thriller frame, Mr. Jones is a well-intended history lesson and one-dimensional inspirational reminder of one reporter’s moral clarity in the fight against totalitarian deception.

If you’re a fan of the man, William Shatner: You Can Call Me Bill is an easy sell.

Smile, the debut feature from director Parker Finn, twists the expectations of a common pleasantry into something grotesque. It's creepy but not new.

So, when all is said and done, this is definitely not Larry Charles’ Borat. It put me to mind more of the later seasons of All in the Family, when Archie Bunker’s bigotry inevitably softened.

The subject alone should ensure that it gets lots of attention from film reviewers and despite a jumpy, hodge-podge style, should be generally enjoyable to anyone interested in the seductive, contentious cultural phenomenon of The New Yorker’s famous critic.

The real treat here is the fabulous original music, sometimes in the background, but more often performed.

Although the subject matter is serious, Ozon has directed here with a light hand and a cool and distant eye. He’s completely avoided melodrama, focusing on people going through their lives day to day. Thanks to his accomplished cast, and sophisticated approach, the emotions are there, but they don’t overwhelm the story.

Don't expect high heroic drama, but definitely be prepared for some laughs and even a bit of MCU canonical continuity, believe it or not.

In a Violent Nature follows the traditional path of a slasher and rises above the genre to be something other than the norm.