While there are explorations of difficult topics in Remarkably Bright Creatures, the movie is ultimately about the good in people, and how human connection can lead to a fulfilling life. As such, it wouldn't be surprising for the film to wring a few (or a lot of) tears from its viewers, with its themes of resilience and recovering from devastating grief. But Newman and Whittington's script balances the darker moments of the movie's story with plenty of levity, helped along by Remarkably Bright Creatures' idiosyncratic octopus narrator.

At times coming across like a fusion of Babe and The Thursday Murder Club, The Sheep Detectives gets by a lot on pure charm. The mystery is compelling enough to keep audiences guessing, while the central characters are engaging enough to follow as they find out more about George's death. The film doesn't quite overtake other entries in the cozy mystery genre, but the sweet morals and clever twists make this a worthwhile watch.

Cameron has said in interviews that sharing directorial credit was his idea, and he repeatedly shows us why. In one pre-show scene, the two of them map out where to place the cameras to best capture a particular part of the performance; in another, Eilish explains to camera what she's after with the show's song-specific color scheme. This concert is a work of art, and Eilish is its director – with this film, Cameron is less striving to create his own art than to capture Eilish's.

Both the dramatizations and the interview segments of the film are artistically gorgeous, showing a remarkable grip on genre styles, from film noir to pastel-soaked satire and shadow-heavy psychological thrillers. With animation from April Kovacs and Brad Brown also deployed to tap into Werhun's love of literature, there's not a single frame of the film that doesn't immediately catch the eye.

Hokum is a refinement of what came before, not a rehash: a terrifically composed throwback that knows when to play things grounded and when to embrace the horror for its full potential.

In the moment, I thought it was very successful, and quite moving. In retrospect, however, the lens that we're forced to view the film through cheapens what we actually spent most of our time watching. Omaha can't really be seen the same way twice, but it's well worth it for that first viewing experience – and for John Magaro's performance, which will surely be some of the most quietly powerful work of the year.

The Devil Wears Prada 2 is a well-constructed sequel that finds a healthy balance between nostalgia and forward momentum. It might not be as richly compelling as the first film, but there's still a lot to enjoy – especially when it turns inward.

Blue Heron is the kind of movie that begs to be written about at length. For now, I'll have to be content with assuring you that this is one of the year's best movies. If it comes to a theater near you, don't miss it.

The finished product has more than justified the cost. From the casting to the costumes to the full-fledged concert performances, Michael lives up to the legendary status of its namesake.

For a film that clocks in at around only 90 minutes and doesn't tackle any one subject outright, Wasteman effortlessly makes you think about many issues.

Writer-director Lee Cronin holds onto the essential mythology while bringing in elements from a host of other influences, including the Evil Dead series, The Exorcist, and Hereditary, to try and shake up what mummies can be on screen. Discovering the true nature of this film's mummy, and what it's capable of, is part of the fun. The result isn't quite a 28 Days Later moment – one way to understand the film's full title is that this feels like one filmmaker's interpretation of a classic monster, rather than a new template for others to follow – but it's definitely the scariest a mummy movie has been in years.

Pizza Movie is a refreshing delight. The simply titled Hulu comedy knows who its audience is, and it delivers plenty of gross-out gags for them to laugh at. But it also takes its genre's formula and infuses it with a real shot of originality that gives even non-stoner-comedy fans plenty to sink their teeth into.

As it tells a thrilling story, engineered with expert precision to keep you hanging on every turn, it embarks on a truly fascinating thought experiment about the nature of identity in relationships: who we are to other people, how easily that can change, and how disruptive it can be when it does. This film is rooted (to steal one of its laugh lines) in "double empathy," exploring when and why we condemn others without itself condemning any of its characters. It may be an entertaining conversation piece, but make no mistake, The Drama is also one of the best movies you'll see this year.

That's what makes Forbidden Fruits feel both timely and timeless. We rarely leave the inside of the mall, giving the film a claustrophobic feel. The girls use cell phones – it'd be strange if they didn't – but any recognizable social media are absent. It feels like a distinctly modern take on female friendship, but one that owes a great deal to the films that have come before it. And it's lost the sort of optimism that those films often came with.

Kontinental '25 is an acerbic film which makes you feel uncomfortable for chuckling your way through it, because by doing so you acknowledge an awkward sense of resonance with the guilty.

It would be an understatement to say that Dead Lover is unusual. It may be more accurate to call it entirely novel.

As fun as the film is when it leans into its genre trappings, Touch Me wouldn't be anything without its small-but-superb cast. Olivia Taylor Dudley, largely underutilized beyond her time on The Magicians and with Onyx the Fortuitous and the Talisman of Souls, is transcendent as Joey, easily delivering a career-best performance.

The film may not always conquer its genre's tendency toward oversimplification, but what complexity makes it to the screen is enough to come away from it with something to chew on.

Sender is not the easiest watch. An anxiety-driven nightmare, Goldman's film doesn't just examine surveillance habits and the cycle of supply and demand, but our relationship to these things and the comfortable embrace of addiction. This is where Julia Day (Severance's Britt Lower) lives, and to help us understand what it's like to be inside her head, Goldman and editor Marco Rosas cut with dizzying alacrity, snapping space and time like a folded belt.

Wheatley is such a strong technician that the film easily rises above its, well, normalcy, to become something much more distinct.

Einbinder, who is about to enter into the last season of Hacks, for which she has won an Emmy award, turns in a magnificently dialed-in, heart-forward and honest performance. Theroux has rarely been this funny and he somehow makes what could be a cartoonish character feel believable and sympathetic. Reynolds and Gluck equally bring forth gravitas to two roles which are tricky for any actor in that neither character is particularly open with who they are, nor where they want to go. And yet their lives feel written all over their faces. It's one of the best ensemble performances of the SXSW festival.

From top to bottom, Brian just really works. It knows what game it's playing and does it with grounded honesty and the kind of blistering comedy that can only emanate from a truly genuine place.

This may well be Fanning's best performance to date, an intricately laced characterization of someone who is as filled with determination and dignity as she is by indecision. As Wendy, Fanning has a special way of presenting someone that can be both open and closed in equal measure: smiling through difficulty, forceful and righteous when angry, light and airy when experiencing joy.

Power Ballad continues Carney's long run of success with yet another charmer. Of course, it's easy to charm when you have Paul Rudd as your center.

Day's commanding performance as Jimmy is Kill Me's other greatest asset. For a good portion of the film, he taps into the comedic skills he's famous for, at times playing Jimmy like a more grounded take on It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia's iconic Pepe Silvia scene. But when the film turns to Jimmy confronting his demons, Day really shines."

It is, ultimately, a film completely uninterested in subtlety. That's both to its credit and to its detriment.

Infused with a sharp exploration of the immigrant experience in America and a smattering of such high school tropes as mean-girl cliques and prom queen competitions, the movie is a wonderfully bonkers ride.

Stephen Lang’s career has been defined by authoritarian roles, with physically grounded performances and command-heavy dialogue. It is surely surprising to see Avatar's fearsome Colonel Miles Quaritch be so vulnerable and tempered, with the spring in his step dampened by age. Even though this is not his first biographical role (he previously portrayed Stonewall Jackson in Gods and Generals), this is arguably his most restrained and moving performance.

Lord & Miller's film is a remarkable achievement.

Despite its outward sullenness, The Projectionist is so well observed in its smaller moments that it contains within it an unusual kind of hope.

It's a deliriously perfect, laugh-a-second satire.

If Heated Rivalry could help with queer representation in sports, perhaps Youngblood could help crack the foundation of racism in hockey.

Though various endings may differ in effective execution or feeling deserved by the closing credits of the two-hour film, some of which among the Shelby clan are guaranteed to be divisive, Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man is still an entertaining, action-filled, worthwhile return to the story for those who have been missing a recitation of “in the bleak midwinter” over the past several years.

Maggie Gyllenhaal's second feature is an explosive representation of social disruption. A screaming cry of a film, The Bride! utilizes its literary and filmic influences - Hamlet, Romeo & Juliet, Bartleby, Bonnie & Clyde - to belt a clarion call against upper-crust hedonism, police complicity, violence against women, and the patriarchal system that binds them all.

Daniel Chong's film isn't perfect, but it reaches such a strange fever pitch of hilarity and political prescience that it demands respect.

The Napa Boys is best enjoyed like a California wine road trip: you can be vaguely aware of the territory, but it's more fun to just ride along its peaks and valleys. When the film hits, it really hits.

It's a beautiful film that entertains in as much measure as it deconstructs an often untouchable icon, making him seem more human, and thus, more impressive.

Ghost Elephants is an almost diaristic documentary, eschewing normal pathways for a more esoteric exploration of survival, science, intuition and mortality.

The Bluff is a rollicking throwback to the swashbuckling action of old. It is brutal and inventive enough to wash over its derivative narrative.

Sometimes the central metaphors of the film are so cleanly didactic they risk becoming preachy, but, more often than not, the film tilts in such inventive ways that recognition only breeds appreciation.

A piercing, explicit, and oftentimes sexy study of one 25-year-old's search for identity in a world that has discouraged him from accepting all of himself unabashedly.

It's an underdog story — sorry, under-goat story — for a new generation that is ready for a new, more inclusive kind of game.

What's most fascinating about The Friend's House is Here is that it makes its protest heard through a story that remains adamantly vivacious for nearly its entire runtime.

Brought to life by yet another astounding performance by Olivia Colman and exquisitely shot and designed, Wicker's treasure is in its hopeless romanticism that insists that pure love and adamant individuality can create irrevocable progress through osmosis.

A soft and gentle hug of a film, one that reifies life's most sacred values while retaining the essential mystery behind our most pressing questions.

A clarion call from across space and time, like a message in a bottle, its very existence is a wild gift.

An essential doc that reveals the origins of her singular voice with exceeding warmth and vulnerability.

A true rarity, Send Help feels fresh and unique — so much, in fact, it’s hard to decide whether you want Raimi (or anybody else, for that matter) to make more movies like it, or let it alone, thriving on a far-off island where no one can compromise its singular, idiosyncratic perfection.

Carousel is a moving romance in all the ways it isn't romantic.

What makes The Invite ultimately so special is its unabashed honesty, even when it means doom.

The Wrecking Crew has finally put Momoa and Bautista on screen together and, thankfully, it largely lives up to the potential of the acting duo.

The Incomer is a sweet and charming adult fairy tale whose primary characteristic, a twee and cheeky sense of humor, is both its appeal and its achilles' heel.

Wilson showed with his television series just how life-affirming it can be to just observe, and, with his triumph of a feature doc, he shows us how merely looking around can reveal entire histories.

The color palette stays consistently vibrant with the comedic theme of the film and of a city like Alabama. Paired with measured pacing and a satisfyingly calibrated ending — where most characters get what they deserve — Signing Tony Raymond leaves viewers smiling at a familiar underdog story, confidently and capably told.

Shyne is less concerned with a unified story, instead dipping in and out of her subject’s lives and in the process giving us a much more involved experience of a fading subculture.

Underneath its story of the sudden animation of household products is a layered critique of late-stage capitalism, a plea for the humanity of queer folks, a rebuke of the erasure of history and of memory, and a challenge against traditionalism which holds back a people from necessarily breaking free, to the next stage of life.

Its bizarre blend of genre and tonality comes together in an altogether surprising way; a labyrinth of ceaseless pleasures.

The magic of DaCosta's film is that it tells us that, regardless of who you are, what we're all searching for is the same thing: community, and a place to call home.

Altogether, People We Meet On Vacation is a wildly entertaining and heartwarming romantic comedy that's perfect for fans of the genre, those who've read Henry's original novel and anyone looking for a date night movie as we head into Valentine's Day season.

Greenland 2 manages to put itself in a league of its own, proving that, not only can disaster movies avoid being totally nonsensical, but also, there can be something that comes after—and that exploration of what's next can be just as good as what came before.

Ignore the publicity bluster, and you'll find at the core of Song Sung Blue the same modest dream to entertain that drives the Sardinas. Is it one of the best films of the year? Certainly not. But a good time at the movies? You betcha.

Thanks to Liu as both performer and producer, Rosemead not only earns its place among those films’ superlative ranks, but achieves a surprisingly powerful balance between intimate cultural authenticity and urgent, universal relevance.

There’s a real thematic depth to each chapter, and the stories are relatable enough to never be boring, but Jarmusch’s insistence on writing three separate narratives about the same concept is a major misstep.

Even as it veers into darker thematic territory, Feig's light touch and Seyfried's committed performance add an air of deranged enjoyment that make The Housemaid one of the most fun movies of 2025.

Thrilling and sumptuous, James Cameron’s latest chapter in this ongoing saga is probably the best one to date, with painstaking world-building, sweeping action and stunning imagery. It also feels too often like a remake of its predecessor, with characters, conflicts and plot developments that even the most devoted fans may find repetitive.

Hersh and Poitras fit together like hand in glove. Exceptional warriors for absolute truth and justice, both have made careers out of exposing systemic abuses of power in ways that have often made them enemies of the state - and yet, both have been granted unusual access to the truth.

Through form and function, Abbas demonstrates the ironic and contradictory nature of his very enterprise, as the temporal fixity of the photograph clashes with the persistent movement of a migrant constantly pulled in multiple directions.

Despite this being a film billed as "samurai versus cannibals," it is actually at its best before the fighting begins.

Resurrection is both testament to the importance of storytelling, as well as the dangers of falling too far within its rabbit hole. But with stories as wrenching and images as evocative as these, why not jump in?

Serious People doesn't deal in cynicism. Its quiet ending wraps things up too tidily, but there's a strange sort of optimism to its idiocy that is quite endearing.

What lingers after watching the film in its most complete form, however, is the fact that it’s so thoughtfully written, brilliantly constructed and (especially) beautifully acted. One imagines that breaking the film in two may have scuttled its chances of earning Uma Thurman a Best Actress nomination, but 20-plus years on, she deserves that recognition more than ever, conveying the character’s strength, resilience and determination, but also her incredible vulnerability.

At turns heartbreaking in its acuteness, at others exhilarating in its access to the dangers of pleasure, Djukić's is a rare kind of coming-of-age film. It is langorous in delivery, yet fast like lightning when it lands.

Oxman’s directional choices — such as lingering close-ups — are added benefits that enable us to connect more deeply with its characters. And thanks to some very powerful performances from Bateman and Dillon, this isn’t just a story that invites us to explore the effects of childhood troubles. It reiterates that understanding is all we ever truly want and need from others.

Though its far-reaching ambitions and many stylistic juxtapositions might make it seem like the work of two (or more!) filmmakers, Marty Supreme isn’t just a masterpiece, but feels vividly like a cohesive — and singular — vision.

At its heart, it is Holt and Swindells’ performances that give the story its warmth and soul — qualities essential to any Christmas movie.

Zootopia 2 is just as strong as its predecessor. It manages to expand the world in exciting ways, tell another compelling story with its main characters and recapture the magic of Zootopia.

In some ways, the film's hollowness allows it to circle back upon itself and become a pure expression of adrenaline.

Wicked: For Good does stumble at various points. The much-touted new songs by returning songwriter Stephen Schwartz are superfluous, and there's a laughably regrettable decision near the end involving Jeff Goldblum that only avoids disaster by being very brief. But all the same magic that powered the first film is still at work in this one.

This uncommon image of survival accentuates the devastation of loss. Fatma is just one victim; what other worlds have we lost with each new death?

We are never not an integral part of this couple's evolving understanding of mortality, art, and partnership.

In its gorgeous animation and stylization of motion blur, Arco pleads us to return to a time when we dreamt about the future as hidden through fluffy clouds and resplendent rainbows.

Edgar Wright and Glen Powell are consummate entertainers, and they made this dystopian Stephen King movie as fun and guilt-free as they could.

To put it in a kinder way, Little Amélie is a delicate testament to the power of solidarity and the ability of children to heal wounds across space and time.

Gulner, who has five other writing credits but directs here for the first time, is a sturdy filmmaker with a solid feel for pace and tone. With The Beldham, she has crafted a clever piece of writing whose ending recontextualizes the whole film in a magnetic flash.

With bi-erasure and transphobia both ballooning, I Wish You All The Best comes with a strong message of hope: that you, too, can be an awkward, flailing teen. That awkwardness is not exclusive to those who fit a traditional mold, and that we all deserve a chance to mess up.

The film feels unexpectedly mournful, bringing to life a time that does not exist anymore.

Palestine 36 is beautifully shot and researched, and peppered with historical touches.

Diaz's previous work is both longer, cheaper and mostly in black and white. Magellan is still long, but by comparison, a breeze; it is also clearly expensive and centers a massive global star in what is essentially a biopic. But Diaz's work is subversive by design, a bait-and-switch as a matter of course.

We all need a really good laugh, and Drymon and company deliver.

Director Kaouther Ben Hania's The Voice of Hind Rajab is a shattering docu-film which utilizes a novel mix of real audio and footage with actors' reconstruction in a Herculean effort to make this profound loss even more immediate. Hers is a utilitarian mission: to embed the audience in the sensory experience of being in a war zone without letting them scroll past or swipe to the next video.

Yes is an astonishing protest film whose comedy belies a broken heart.

Miroirs No. 3 is a bucolic, poetic film of simple beauty with light, magical touches about the ability of a stranger’s love.

If cinema does go the way of the dinosaurs someday, it is at least good to know that the limits of its power are still being tested by the likes of Rajamouli, whose work reaches so far outside the frame it seems to magically reach out of the screen itself, into the audience's beating heart.

Left-Handed Girl is ultimately quite optimistic while never succumbing to the saccharine.

There’s a sincerity that underscores its central themes, and the performances, writing, and direction don’t cut corners to get to the end. And what we end up with is a comedy-drama that understands what a thoughtful exploration of a relationship can look like onscreen.

It's a breathtaking film from a new visionary of the queer indie scene.

Ultimately, the film is successful in having its cake and eating it too. It is both a tense political thriller and a crackling satire of drunken power. The comedy of the first two-thirds becomes the horror in the last, as these people’s willful ignorance of danger becomes terrifying in its potential repercussions.

The film is so well put together, constructed with such warmth, that it does paper over its own indulgence.