There is plenty to like about director Anna Kerrigan's film Cowboys. Its (near) family-friendly pitch on transgender issues is refreshing. Its uncluttered presentation is disarmingly frank.

To put Uncorked in wine terms, it’s not complex, but only a philistine would dismiss what’s easy and pleasing as flawed.

A mixture of social realism, melodrama, and road comedy, the two-hour-plus Broker isn’t Kore-eda’s best work. But it’s redeemed by the filmmaker’s signature deep empathy for his lonely characters.

Director Halpern has described her film as a cautionary tale about the pursuit of excellence. And if Love, Charlie isn’t really that, it’s still a lively character study. What’s most interesting here is the glimpses of insight into Trotter’s unusual mind.

It’s very easy to forgive this film for what it lacks, such as being shot on a minimal budget at dull locations. Some of the performances seem amateurish at times but because the story is one that has a universal appeal, they are overlooked in light of how relatable the whole concept is.

While stopping short of camp, and giving the movie all the visual aplomb it deserves, Godzilla vs. Kong isn’t ashamed of being light entertainment writ large. The dramatics are few, the quips just about right, and the booms are bombastic.

If you were never interested in medieval Danish history, it’s unlikely that director Charlotte Sieling’s historical drama, Margrete: Queen of the North, will change your mind. Still, there are rewards to be found in this lavishly produced and well-acted costume drama, led by Danish actress Trine Dyrholm.

Not the most profound movie in Laika’s catalogue. But Missing Link is an entertaining 90 minutes, with glib dialogue that may skew a little old for younger viewers, but with maybe enough realistic physical comedy and terrific stop-motion animation to make up for it.

If it earns a D for tone-deaf dialogue, The Glassworker earns an A for ambition and bonus points for the useful reminder that war destroys things and art isn’t shatterproof.

Watcher is a successful thriller, good enough to hold viewers through its three acts and into the final scene. But the reward for sticking around might not be the payoff viewers were waiting for. Neither is it all that original.

Bradley Cooper makes an impressive directing debut with A Star Is Born, turning one of Hollywood’s most remade movies into something fresh and soulful, even though it’s hampered by some of the story’s clichés.

The comedy in the film is spontaneous and engaging. The drama is subtle and patient, the effect of which makes it challenging to track Michael's progress with his friends, his relationship, and his sports career.

Romanticization and exploitation often converge. Stripped of its warm memories, this could be an MBA study on turning local youth trends into global lifestyle commodities, inevitably leaving casualties along the way.

Bob Marley: One Love does not give a documentary’s worth of information and analysis into one of the 20th century’s most interesting, beloved performers. And yes, its approach is formulaic. But it celebrates Marley’s charisma and influence, and his music, which sounds as vital today as ever. Fair trade.

Though predictable in its messaging — don’t be afraid to be your wild eccentric self! — the film is visually stylish and clever enough to engage sugar-jagged children and even adults for its merciful 90-minute running time.

Final Destination: Bloodlines doesn’t completely reinvent the wheel. It realigns the tires and tightens a few bolts. And for a franchise that is built on inevitability and expectations, that’s as close to cheating death as you could hope.

There is a lovely kookiness to The Persian Version which elevates an essentially straight-up mother-daughter conflict story with myriad snappy visuals and storytelling devices before settling into its main narrative trajectory, advancing the idea that we are all just doing the best we can with whatever tools we have.

Lifted by a deep and thoughtful performance by Colin Farrell, After Yang is a poetic and subtle meditation about the aftermath of unexpected sadness over the loss of “someone” who is technically not human.

A dark movie, but also a funny one.

Geriatric killers are nothing new at the movies — think of John Wick, Red or Taken — but The Old Woman with The Knife has a lot more than exhilarating action scenes going on. The way the elderly are regarded and treated underlies much of the storytelling, and there’s an emotional element that’s unexpected for the genre.

There isn’t a moment in Zombieland: Double Tap that takes itself the least bit seriously. The gags often seem made up as it goes along, but they have a high “hit” ratio and the looseness of the whole affair means there’s no pressure to impress.

The movie looks great. The casting is wonderful.

It’s not wise to dive head first into Deep Water. But if you dip your toe and slide slowly, you might wade neck deep in a cool erotic thriller.

The very opposite of kinetic, director Fernando Meirelles’ (City of God) The Two Popes is a slow-moving, ruminative, dialog-driven think piece set to film which might enjoy a successful second life as a stage production, and might actually be better served by that forum.

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.

American Sweatshop is an anxiety-soaked story, but it’s not a thriller — it’s smarter than that. Director Uta Briesewitz has created a character study set in a kind of cautionary tale. Lili Reinhart’s understated performance is what keeps the story intriguing. American Sweatshop falters in its third act, but Reinhart will keep you watching regardless.

Blood Quantum is not short on social, and cultural observations, but neither does it scrimp on zombies gorging on lengthy intestines.

Though it comes with good credentials, four hours feels like a lot of screen real estate for a what is essentially an elevated soap opera. For the home-streaming viewer though, The Real Thing meets the essential requirements for binge-watching: it’s undemanding to follow but sustains enough of a mystery to keep us hooked.

Knocking is a configuration of atmosphere and dread, paced at a speed of unflinching stillness.

The film chronicles suicide in a surprisingly forthright and unflinching way, and it takes an unexpectedly long time to reach its foregone conclusion. Still, Otto’s sweet, sentimental tone is not unwelcomed in the depths of a winter dogged by troublesome headlines on all fronts.

The film succeeds on fan appeal and that’s obviously who will thoroughly and absolutely love this film.

The results are what might be best called “solid” journalism, with the occasional eye-brow raising surprise (Nixon wanted to firebomb the Brookings Institute?) There’s a wealth of archival, often familiar, television clips along with fresh interviews with some of the first-hand witnesses and participants.

In parlance its subject would have understood, the documentary The Capote Tapes, about iconic American writer Truman Capote, feels like something late to the party and underdressed.

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.

The movie unfolds with what seems like a series of random left turns, which, in some cases, may have been written on the day of shooting. But Qualley and Viswanathan are a likeable odd-couple, in a dumb movie rendered smartly enough to not overstay its welcome.

Despite committed performances all around, Boundaries stays firmly rooted in the meh. Much as we want to root for Laura, her constant whining about her unhappy childhood wins no empathy and drags things down.

Overall, Wolfs is not breaking new ground, nor is it trying to. But it is an entertaining couple of hours at the movies. That works for me.

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.

Okita keeps a firm grip on the film's action, maneuvering the story through its layers of twists and possibilities without putting too much of a strain on our disbelief.

What holds all this, mostly, together to the presence of Mulligan (An Education, Shame) and her own ambiguous performance.

Effectively the Ripley of this flight, Moretz makes a good case – again - for her ability to work an action film. Shadow in the Cloud is a fun ride through enemy territory, both human and demonic, and Moretz wields her weaponry with aplomb.

Sometimes, the script is very funny; always, it tries too hard to please; and it never lets you forget that it has been calculated down to a smirk and a teardrop.

Bolstered by actors with serious chops, and a secondary cast of seriously talented singers — including some with Eurovision contest experience — the Netflix movie is sweetly affectionate. But your enjoyment will likely be directly proportional to how you feel about Ferrell and his familiar man-boy character.

Cold Case Hammarskjöld is likely to be divisive; I’m divided myself. Brügger’s awkward juxtaposition of clowning with real-life horrors is off-putting. In a time plagued by conspiracy theories, the film is an example of an acutely timely uneasiness, reminding us how conspiracies can be simultaneously toxic and compelling.

The Starling Girl is a film that highlights remarkable performances in a story that travels down familiar territory.

You don’t have to travel very far anywhere in Canada these days to see towns whose economic and social life-signs are so weak, you practically see ghosts yourself. Ghost Town Anthology merely brings that feeling to life – or death.

Apart from a few eye-roll moments, Giant Little Ones is redeemed from coming across like a progressive after-school special by the authenticity of performances, particularly of the young actors and a refreshing open-endedness about the fluidity of sexual behaviour.

Though the quirk is ladled on a little thick at times, Woman at War is a surprisingly crowd-pleasing film experience considering its subject matter. In style, Erlingsson evokes the playfulness of Finnish director Aki Kaurismaki, and it seems impossible to film anything in Iceland without being hypnotized by the landscape.

All the intricacies — and absurdities — of creating a modern relationship are on display in Oh, Hi!, a clever comedy with Molly Gordon and Logan Lerman as a couple getting to know each other better.

Like the characters it portrays, Mine 9 simply does its job as best it can with the resources at hand.

Bugonia is not Lanthimos’s best, but it is likely off-kilter enough for fans, or maybe introductory-weird for newcomers to his genre.

At its core, the film is the story of a man who has outwardly achieved everything that most of us imagine any artist or ambitious individual would want but still has to face himself. As we all do. The film captures that with real poignancy.

It doesn’t sound much like it, but Problemista is a comedy and a savage send-up of much of what America holds dear. Torres’ absurdist humour underpins the storytelling.

Spider-Man: No Way Home is a comfort-food present to long-time fans, like a cross-over episode of one or more beloved TV series, with winks, call-backs, trivia, cameos, super-villains and copious destruction.

Though it sounds crude to say it, Sarfaty has found an intimate hook to an almost unapproachably grim subject.

As a valentine to influential 80s alt-rockers The Smiths, Shoplifters of the World is unbeatable, propelled by original Smiths music along with archival footage of band interviews and performances, vintage posters, magazine covers, album sleeves and just about every other bit of era-specific ephemera you can name.

It would have been a nice touch to have Switzer, Watt-Cloutier, and Farmer meet and interact. If nothing else, it might have given Tough Old Broads a connectivity beyond three fascinating stories, separately told.

While Gutnik has assembled a talented cast, the constraints of a 105-minute runtime means the stories feel underdone in places, including anything about that furiously entitled man in the subway.

Valley of Exile is a slow, closely observed and very personal story that distils the terrible cost of conflict and presents it on a relatable human scale. While the film celebrates the women’s resilience, it also shows the gradual, inexorable unravelling of family as all things familiar fall away.

Intermittently witty, technically impressive, Free Guy sheds points in its second half, with pandering (Star Wars and Captain American references) and a series of numbing narrative loops, celebrating originality while practicing the opposite. And all of this with the usual alibi that none of this is meant to be serious.

The pieces are there for a profound piece of work, and The Song of Names’ high points are worth the occasional narrative slog.

The ponderous storytelling is such that you’re always aware you’re watching a movie.

It’s utterly brainless fun with a big, big heart.

In the end, there’s insufficient emotional pay-off or psychological insight here to justify the credibility-defying tricks and narrative convolutions. But the kid is adorable and Exarchopoulos, as the hot and cold Joanne, is believable at every moment, in a film more attuned to mood and sensation than literal meaning.

Sorting out what’s true and what’s not becomes so convoluted that the abrupt ending seems a case of either running out of money or ideas. Still, Come True is a movie that you’ll likely remember for the images it burns in the brain, more than for its story.

It works as a buddy road movie (as is Patrick’s argument) and as a hero’s quest (as SpongeBob argues). Either way, there is not a lot of twists and turns complicating matters, save for one outrageous side-trip.

The odd golfball-centric bit of whimsy aside, The Phantom of the Open is straight-ahead storytelling (complete with a pat family crisis that is neatly resolved) that can only be as good as the actors in it.

Alien: Romulus may not have the edgy feel of the original Alien, nor the rollercoaster ride we got with Aliens, but it's arguably the best entry in the franchise in over thirty years.

Salvatore: Shoemaker of Dreams is a study of a man who found his passion early in life and lived it with commitment.

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

At any rate, you’ll be entertained. What you won’t be is transported, and that’s kind of the goal.

As a leading feminist voice in post-War German cinema, Von Trotta’s devotion to Bergman, the archetypal self-absorbed male genius, seems unfashionably but refreshingly forgiving.

Although the film gets the mood and feeling right, the story is maddeningly spotty. Its arrow is in the bow, but it feels like it’s one rewrite away from neatly hitting the mark.

Fitting In is kind of on-the-nose in the way it portrays the transference of attitudes.

This lovely film with its unapologetically female gaze . . . kept me beguiled throughout.

The Wait is a modern morality fable that initially unfolds like a revenge Western but then transforms into a supernatural horror story.

This is essentially an affectionate documentary about a group of killer musicians, who are still working and obviously loving what they do and each other. That spirit of respect and love is part of what makes the documentary enjoyable.

The film has a wonderfully quiet, reflective, and intimate tone, but that lovely subtlety ultimately robs it of some of its impact.

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.

Compellingly artful if dramatically blunt, The Settlers is Chile’s entry into the best International picture Oscar race, a kind of Western that critiques the reasons for the genre.

It’s a forgivable fault for a first feature such as Before I Change My Mind to try to do too much, especially at a time when gender issues have become so politically contentious. The film can plausibly be understood as a protest against the kind of new more restrictive youth gender laws introduced in several jurisdictions, including Alberta earlier this year.

With winks at the cheesiness of a previous generation’s entertainment and a razzberry directed at contemporary blockbusters with a thousand times its minuscule budget, Psycho Goreman is an entertaining exercise in low-tech sci-fi camp.

This story about stories is best absorbed if you’re not in a hurry. The Oak Room is not long (88 minutes), but the words demand attention.

The film does a pretty good job of walking the tightrope between comedy and pathos. To that end, Apatow has pulled together a wonderful cast.

Walter Hill’s new film Dead for a Dollar is in some ways your grandpa’s Western, a big-sky drama full of horses, hats, guns, hairpin plot turns and an ensemble of colourfully drawn characters.

Given all the on-screen risk-taking, Mission: Impossible - Fallout plays it pretty safe. What you get is essentially an action movies greatest hits package.

The script by Richard Kaplow, who wrote Linklater’s 2008 film Me and Orson Welles, feels as though it were adapted from an off-Broadway play, with the action mostly in one location over the course of one night, March 31, 1943, the opening night of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, Oklahoma!

Clapin uses animated interludes to flesh out his human characters — his previous feature was 2019’s Oscar-nominated animated film J’ai Perdu Mon Corps (I Lost My Body). It’s an effective and beautiful way of turning emotions into visuals.

Destroyer is all about Kidman as tortured, haggard detective Erin Bell. A single look into those bleary, bloodshot eyes alerts us to the fact that this character has been through the wringer. Destroyer is a forensic study of how Bell got this way. The trick, I suppose, is making us care.

Capernaum is a movie with a lot of dramatic ideas and plot-points, worthy of a miniseries at least, squeezed into a two-hour sausage of misery.

For better and worse, the script has a clear depiction of contemporary good and evil and an efficient movie-of-the-week purposefulness, to the point where you half expect to see a helpline number before the closing credits.

Moments of brilliance notwithstanding, the comedy and the dark look at human nature in Misericordia never quite meld. For any student of human nature, that unreliable narrator and the gang of unlikeable characters may eventually wear thin.

The unusual narrative device described as a “docufiction hybrid” at the heart of Starring Jerry as Himself is at once clever and heartbreaking.

The problem is the execution. As directed by Justin Baldoni (who also stars as the husband), the film feels lacklustre and slapdash, never doing anything to rise above the basic storytelling beats.

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.

Falconer allows viewers a glimpse into the ordinary lives of richly developed characters in Sunfish. The filmmaker presents their stories in an understated and unhurried fashion, showing lives led against a bittersweet, end-of-summer landscape that is tinged with nostalgia.

Exit Plan works. At times hallucinogenic; at times tranquil. Despite a growing consensus that the film is undermined by its determined and plodding pace, it is by no means ineffective.

Sheepdog is an intense drama, a tad overlong and amateurish in parts, but definitely an affecting crowd-pleaser with more than a dozen film fest “best movie” and “audience choice” awards to prove it.