Bursting with playful energy, set to a killer soundtrack, and dripping with personality, Polite Society is a winning, ultra-charming tale of sisterly love.

The Bob's Burgers Movie is a little overlong. It takes a while for the plot to kick in, and by the time it does, it drags out the conflict, heightening the stakes to ludicrous degrees. And while it could've just been an episode of the show, it justifies its existence with its surplus of joyful musical songs and its surprisingly dark turns — which really only emerge in the last half hour of the movie. But mostly, it justifies itself by reaffirming why we always come back to the Belcher family. They're the sweet, emotional core of the movie, the meat of this mystery burger that we want to order over and over again.

If you like your horror bleak, mean, and scary in ways you can't quite articulate, you're in for a wonderfully nasty treat.

Origin lacks both a center of gravity and a sense of scale.

A House of Dynamite delivers on its promise of creating a gripping, well-crafted, anxiety-inducing thriller that sticks with you.

Solo celebrates love within the queer community, and it does so beautifully. But what's even lovelier about Solo is that it's a film about finding that love within yourself first.

Slightly confused as Titane might be in what it's trying to say, at least it is saying something bold and wild and challenging. It's a head-pumping, face-splitting, heart-tugging visceral experience of a film that is better left, well, experienced for yourself.

An exemplary work of low-budget filmmaking, The Deeper You Dig is an eldritch and well-crafted film that is far from shallow.

While it doesn't break any new ground in the horror space or do anything super mind-blowing from a narrative perspective, Hatching is a successful (if somewhat flat) exploration of that transitional period in one's life when an earlier version of yourself dies and a new version stands in its place.

For all the areas where it doesn't quite work, however, there's no argument that They Cloned Tyrone digs into important topics and inequities, and sheds light on people who deserve to get more attention. It's also a bold film that takes big swings.

One thing is for certain, you haven’t seen an anime movie like this.

It’s pop art made into a feature film, which is a swell idea — if there’s an emotional core that can carry the audience through the staid surrealism. But Audley and the rest of the cast choose to play their characters like stoic ciphers, barely formed archetypes who glide through the film as if in some kind of permanent dream state themselves, making Strawberry Mansion feel even less anchored to reality.

If there is anything that prevents Bottoms from being truly great, it's that it sometimes feels a lot more wild and unpredictable than it actually is.

While these misadventures could have easily resulted in a more chaotic sort of indie that loses focus, they’ve kept the attention squarely on the characters and each part of this wild day serves their arc in some kind of meaningful way. Somehow, this movie makes light out of total darkness without losing any of the heaviness that comes with it.

The result is a movie that's as fun as it has things to say, a true animated blockbuster that could play like gangbusters in multiplexes (if there is any indication from the world premiere at the Annecy International Animation Film Festival, where the crowd went wild towards the climax of the film), and lingers on your mind long after the credits roll.

One film shouldn’t have to handle the weight of representing an entire geographic region, and I don’t expect Raya and the Last Dragon to do so, though it appears to desperately want to. But taken purely as an action epic, Raya and the Last Dragon is a real treat.

It's all just too much for any of us to live up to, and yet for Riley, it's all she's ever known. Watching her find the balance is riveting, and a testament to both D.W. Waterson's directorial eye and Devery Jacobs' immense talent.

Through it all, My Old Ass never loses sight of the big picture. Park weaves together theme, plot, and emotion through various montages with the skill of much more established filmmakers, knowing precisely when to tap the brakes and let scenes breathe for maximum impact.

Jackass Forever is as bluntly, dementedly, brilliantly funny and horrific, and unforgettable as any of its predecessors or the TV series that started it all. If you are a fan of anything or anyone even tangentially related to Jackass Forever, you can rest assured that you know what you're getting.

The romance is a soaring spectacle to witness unfold, but it becomes a Trojan horse to explore notions of how and where people find validation. The film's embrace of two lovers does not close ranks around them, instead opening its arms to welcome anyone who has ever felt like a disowned outcast.

Audiences deserve to see the conclusion of an action film so immaculately crafted and patiently paced, one that's more focused on inspiring reverent amazement through the simplicity of durable storytelling structures rather than the complexity of cinematic universe building.

The film toys with a lot of weighty ideas about faith and soulmates, which it never is quite able to form a coherent message about, but its unexpected ode to platonic soulmates and its thoughtful depiction of immigrant life in smalltown America is a sweet, refreshing addition to the coming-of-age genre.

Armageddon Time suffers from an overly long runtime and from hitting the audience in the head with its commentary, but at a time when nostalgia reigns supreme in filmmaking, this is a rare and very welcome interrogation of the past.

Bahrani's doc moves at a steady pace, but it also runs through bullet points rather than taking a deeper dive into Richard and his life.