While a child might be affected by the film, it takes the weight of a certain number of years to fully absorb what director Isao Takahata has put up on the screen.

Stop Making Sense is pure fun and sheer exuberance transferred onto celluloid and perfectly re-created at the other end. Experiencing what Demme and the Talking Heads have crafted with this motion picture makes perfect sense. [Review of re-release]

I won't argue that Inside Out is as profound or all-around engaging as "Toy Story 3," but the films succeed in many of the same ways.

It's likely that 2004 won't offer a better movie about a mid-life crisis.

Sunset Blvd. represents the center stone in Billy Wilder's glittering cinematic tiara.

The Apartment represents Wilder at his most complete - seamlessly weaving the lighthearted and the serious without encountering a snarl or tangle.

The film has too much surface beauty not to earn it a recommendation, but Days of Heaven satisfies only on a sensory level.

The emotions roiling beneath the surface of this seemingly placid drama make watching it an intense and involving experience.

Labeling this as a "movie" is almost an injustice. This is an experience of epic scope and grandeur, amazing emotional power, and relentless momentum.

Call Me by Your Name, the latest film from Italian director Luca Guadagnino, is a study in mood and emotion. It’s about living in the moment and capturing that moment. It’s about using the canvas of film to convey to the audience the inner feelings of the characters. Call Me by Your Name is short on dialogue and long on emoting.

At its best, this movie is searing. It pinpoints many of the little talked-about aspects of divorce that seem the least significant but hurt the most. It also eviscerates the practice of Family Law without apology.

La La Land isn’t just the best made-for-the-screen musical to reach theaters in a very long time, it’s arguably the best (non-animated) cinematic musical of any kind since 1986’s delightful "Little Shop of Horrors." Yes, it’s more vibrant than "Chicago," more heartfelt than "Les Miserables," and more successfully staged than a chorus of other contenders.

Highlighted by an awards-worthy performance by Saoirse Ronan and structured around a light, witty script by Gerwig, the movie delivers a well-targeted snapshot of a year-in-the-life of an ordinary high school senior.

It retains the occasional power to mesmerize and amaze.

With an unnecessarily protracted running length of more than 140 minutes, Rio Bravo at times moves too slowly for its own good but the climax is as rousing as that of any Western made during the decade when the genre was at its peak.

Like Kore-eda’s previous masterpiece, "Like Father Like Son," the movie uses a domestic drama to illustrate larger and more compelling concerns about society in general.

The edgy, claustrophobic approach to filmmaking is there, as is the importance of setting. There’s never a clear sense of where the movie is headed and, when it gets there, it arrives with a bang.

This is adult drama with an impeccable sense of period and a strong focus on character. With today's cinema sadly lacking in movies like this, it makes Inside Llewyn Davis all the more welcome, especially for those who care about the kind of music it honors.

The Best Years of Our Lives runs almost three hours, but it doesn't seem nearly that long. The film is so involving that there's no temptation to glance at a watch, nor a need to get a snack or take a bathroom break. In fact, when it's over, there's almost a sense of disappointment that there aren't a few scenes left hiding on the other side of the closing credits. The feeling of warmth and satisfaction that accompanies the conclusion is the hallmark of a great drama - a distinction that anyone who has seen The Best Years of Our Lives will apply to this landmark production.

Tar isn’t based on a true story but it possesses an emotional and intellectual honesty that makes it seem more real than countless made-for-mass-consumption biopics.

Unfortunately, the film's final third is poorly focused and, while there is a clear conclusion, it feels strangely hollow.

One of Lee's great successes with this film is that he is able to present every character, regardless of race, gender, or age, with three-dimensionality and a degree of sympathy. No one is demonized or lionized. No one individual is blamed or exonerated for the events which transpire. Each individual with significant screen time is shown to have good and bad qualities, and we come to understand what motivates them, even if we do not agree with them.

Put together on a miniscule budget, the film has all the power, drama, and tension of a big-budget Hollywood thriller.

Crumb is a rare and powerful documentary that completely absorbs the viewer and leaves an impression so blindingly clear that the afterimage cannot be blinked away even when the theater is far behind.

Yojimbo does not cause viewers to ponder deep issues in the way Rashomon does, nor does it possess the epic grandness of The Seven Samurai, yet it must still be considered in the top tier of Kurosawa's films. Stylish, compelling, and involving, it became as much a blueprint for future productions as it is an homage to past ones.

Spotlight is a Valentine to investigative journalism and a stark reminder of where we’re headed now that this brand of writing has become an endangered species. The film is unique in that it focuses almost entirely on the process.

A thoughtful, existential meditation about the meaning of life and what constitutes a life well-lived, Ikiru is almost guaranteed to prod the viewer to examine his or her own mortality and ponder how, in the end, the scales will tip.

Not only is it wonderfully entertaining, but the issues it addresses, and the way it presents them, are both universal and deeply personal. And therein lies The Wizard of Oz's true magic.