Elton John: Never Too Late is an affecting movie that the musician's fans will likely appreciate, but it's the equivalent of those official oil portraits that the more intelligent and self-aware royals used to commission.

While "Red One" may scratch at some interesting ideas about lamenting the world's cruelties, it lacks the narrative depth and commitment to fully explore its angst.

Hot Frosty is goofy and sweet and magical. It knows exactly who its audience is and gifts them with a perfectly cozy Capra-esque fantasy where romance is founded in friendship and respect, communities rally around their most vulnerable, people are willing to call cops out on their abuse of power, and mutual aid is just a way of life.

Keegan's writing is spare and controlled: she gets a lot done in 116 pages, and Walsh's adaptation captures the suggested interiority of the story.

Arnold's films elevate the potential of youth, and for this one, it takes a little magic to fulfill it.

While "Elevation" may never rise above its genre trappings or escape the shadow of its influences, it never stoops so low as to be mindlessly vapid. Simply executed at ninety minutes, it's escapism of the highest order, offering perils at a screen's distance of safety.

Grief and loss can take hold of your soul, not unlike a possession; what Clapin explores here is the temptation of reconnection, and what that oft-impossible yearning can do to a person.

It's a deceptively complex piece of filmmaking, something that feels artfully executed and organic at the same time. It has so many layers, all of them covered in the emotions that erupt when we reconnect with our families.

Stockholm Bloodbath is a half-promise. There's plenty of blood to be had, but not much of it boils.

It's a stylish and modern action movie that also features some of the year's most satisfying fight choreography and action filmmaking.

Despite Brosnan's best efforts, this is a movie with its heart in the right place and its head somewhere substantially other.

Weekend in Taipei is a B-movie straight out of the 1990s: a trashy, splashy, knowingly over-the-top action picture in the tradition of Luc Besson, which is fitting, given that Besson himself co-wrote the script with director George Huang.

There's so much detail and such a clear sense of dramatic proportion that it almost doesn't matter that the movie doesn't resolve itself traditionally or with a full stop. You can still get a clear sense of how time moves for the workers in Zhili in "Youth (Homecoming)" without necessarily knowing what comes next.

Uniting with a star-studded trio – his brother John David Washington, Samuel L. Jackson, and Danielle Deadwyler – Washington's study of inheritances (trauma, wealth, and history) is a powerful portrayal of Black lineage in America.

This is as much a movie about memory, psychology, and trust as it is an account of an event that seems pretty strange at first glance, but becomes stranger, deeper and sadder once you get to the bottom of it all.

It’s no surprise that the cinematographer’s directorial feature debut is an alluring ghost story full of visual intrigue and surrealist imagery, giving him the space to showcase his strengths while working out some of the storytelling mechanics.

Its lessons about how kindness and inclusion benefit both the giver and the receiver are welcome, but its gentle reminder to view even the oldest and best-known story with fresh attention and connection may be even more meaningful.

No Other Land is a portrait of relentless cruelty, but it is also a portrait of the resilience of this besieged community.

Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat succeeds as an intense piece of reclamation and rejuvenation, giving breath to Lumumba’s spirit by sporting the same kind of defiance the political leader espoused.

Watching “Emilia Pérez” is akin to tasting a combination of substances that haven’t previously been put together, at first being taken aback by the bizarre taste but still going in for another sip.

In what may be his final film, nonagenarian auteur Clint Eastwood has crafted a solid, old-fashioned courtroom drama with “Juror #2.” Always known for his efficiency as a filmmaker, Eastwood brings that same brisk energy to this suspenseful piece of storytelling.

The film isn’t necessarily terrible, but it proves to be deeply unmemorable by offering viewers little more than a rehash of things they have presumably seen before and then taking an unconscionable amount of time to do so.

This one stands out not only because it’s the fittingly agonizing climax to Wang’s trilogy but also for its sheer wealth of heartbreaking and totally convincing details.

As with most comedies that throw everything out there (and throw common sense out the window) to get laughs, some bits and pieces don’t land. But the Lesters thankfully cram in enough ghettofabulous gags to keep me continuously giggling.

The Graduates is a reflective movie, an emotional story without telling you how to feel, only that for many people across the country, learning to live with grief can be just as important as planning for the future.

With less textbook dedication to its metaphors and more sleight of hand in its structure, “Cellar Door” would accomplish the tension it intends, but its bland approach fails to inspire investment.

The film’s look and sound are lyrical, providing an apt setting for the poets who recite their work and discuss the kind of communication that fills in the gaps left by recitations of fact, archival images, or dramatic re-enactments.

There’s a lot unexplored about fandom, queerness, and the ’90s indie movie scene in “Chasing Chasing Amy,” focused as it is on one filmmaker’s adoration of the subject at hand. But what’s left out of “Chasing”—and what the filmmaker decides to do, or not do, when faced with moments of clarity—can inform our own relationships with the art we love.