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.

Frothy, but deceptively dense, Liza: A Truly Terrific Absolutely True Story focuses on Liza’s psychology and her friendships and teachers through the 1960s and 1970s.

While there are a few twists in the film, much like the certainty of a flight delay, none arrive unexpectedly.

Even Discovery fans will have to admit this spin-off is just simply a weakly told story. The characters are contrived and even a talent like Michelle Yeoh can’t save it.

The film’s star Amy Adams balances relatable comedy with dramatic empathy. In practice though, Nightbitch fails to converge their talents, resulting in a film of interesting moments that drifts to a tepid conclusion.

Hard Truths is a film centered on a difficult, damaged human being. Watching the movie is not unlike the experience of being in the company of just such a person — uncomfortable, sobering, deeply moving.

It’s a ghost story, a minor entry in Soderbergh’s oeuvre but still worthy of attention.

As a movie, it’s riveting. It also ends up being a thoughtful study in media coverage very much worth contemplating.

Despite being top-heavy in themes, Whannell’s Wolf Man is a plodding, uninspired tale that discards folklore—there are no full moons or silver bullets—and squanders the talent of its cast.

Yes, Anderson is good, but it’s the film that ultimately lets her down.

Anyone looking for an uplifting story in the mode of Spotlight or Erin Brockovich won’t find gratification in Ross’s sombre film. Nickel Boys, a film that impresses and occasionally perplexes, is not a story of delayed justice achieved, or the suffering of others appreciated from a safe historical distance.

Figuring out Nick’s motivations may be the most fun you’ll have over the film’s two-hour-plus runtime, though that isn’t saying much.

What the film communicates, along with the platonic love story, is how exhausting - morally, mentally and physically - the experience of being in a rock band can be.

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.

On one hand, its chief conceit is commendably weird: the adult Williams is played by Jonno Davies as a chimpanzee filmed in motion capture, conjured with CGI to humanoid effect, and voiced by its subject. Daring! Yet its story follows a ho-hum biopic trajectory structurally indistinguishable from recent entries such as Rocketman and Bohemian Rhapsody.

There is a meanness of spirit to all of this, an uncomfortable awkwardness that seemingly can’t end well.

Helped along by a fantastic cast, the storytelling is so rich and vibrant and the characters so well drawn that the film never flags.

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.

Eggers is honouring the legacy of the original Nosferatu, and he gives us a worthy film. But one wishes that he’d gone father in his own direction. A little bit more of his focused madness would have been welcome.

Their physical relationship seems highly unlikely in every element. It is weirdly mechanical and not remotely erotic, and worst of all, you never forget that you’re watching a movie.

The series still has lots of heart, but its quality is moving in the wrong direction.

The End may literally be a little tone deaf, but it is not morally senseless.

Craig is easily the best thing in Queer, which grows a little maudlin at the end. Burroughs himself never properly completed the story, having lost interest along the way. But that’s not to say that his performance is the sole reason to see it.

Paul Schrader’s latest film Oh, Canada, based on Russell Banks’ final novel Foregone, is a confined affair, suggesting the art of constructing complicated toy sailing ships in small bottles. Confined, but complicated.

A cinematic version of this story definitely wasn’t needed. But then again, neither was the hero.

All in all, this is probably the best production of the litany of Tolkien pre-Ring stories I’ve seen on the big screen and I’d count The Hobbit in that estimation. There is a part where it drags a little, and some moments that are campy (I blame those on the anime elements), but all in all, this is definitely something that I would recommend seeing on the big screen.

Porcelain War is sometimes heavy-handed in spelling out its own higher meaning, but it is a rare look at the reality of war and the ordinary people compelled to defend their freedom and their way of life.

Werewolves is of the small-movie variety, and I wish it were better. Alas, it’s not quite stupid enough to be a guilty pleasure, and not quite good enough to be an innocent one.