The film is aware of the concentrated world it’s depicting.

A silly horror movie at heart, Lucile Hadžihalilovic‘s Innocence follow-up seems to confuse “ideas” with “prolonged silences.”

Stylistically free but still cleanly delineated in character and crime-film structure, there comes a clear direction for the 21st-century action film.

This is the type of comedy where the flop sweat is nearly always present as each player tries to lift the comedy, only to tragically belly-flop over and over. No one here is phoning it in, but with material this bad, it would be hard to blame them.

Riffing on Spanish telenovelas, Hitchcock, and film noir, Almodóvar and his production team have put together a slight, but undeniably gorgeous bauble with a simple sort of story that nestles in somewhere between the high and lowbrow.

Unlike Minervini’s previous outing, which gently unfolded through quiet, unstructured moments, the film feels far more scripted and staged, and, in effect, more shocking and exploitative.

Bi’s Kaili Blues is a bit too formless to hold together, even despite its immense merits and deep thematic resonance. Still: in one film, he’s already demonstrated himself to be an extraordinary visual stylist who’s not afraid to color outside the formalist lines.

The documentary gets repetitive as Mokhnenko does his thing over and over again. The promise of more keeps us engaged and the absence of it disappoints. This is too bad because when it works it is captivating.

Nobody could fault the detail of the art department’s work here, but there is an odd sluggishness to the imagery, as if the whole film is playing a half-measure behind. This proves troublesome for any of the larger-than-life action sequences, but even more so with the comic timing.

The craft is quite admirable, while the elements feel a bit recycled.

Familiar yet effective, straightforward yet unapologetic.

While not a disaster, it would be fair to say it is somewhere between “disappointingly serviceable” and “embarrassingly pointless.”

Café Society is a quintessential later-period Woody Allen film. That is to say, it’s utterly mediocre.

Despite an ending that is far too obvious and tidy, Agnus Dei is a moving drama about the struggle to keep one’s faith in the most difficult of situations.

Libatique isn’t messing around and his involvement is proof that the movie shouldn’t be dismissed. The cinematography got my attention and Pelé’s artistry (re-enacted or not) earned my emotional investment.

Tickled too often gets in its own way.

Even if the film is somewhat less impressionistic than director Terence Davies’ previous work, many compositions and gestures beyond just the easy-to-praise 70mm vistas feel destined to replay forever and ever in the mind.

By keeping characterization and plotting to a minimum, García has crafted a film in which he invites his audience to bring their own interpretations to the pensive story.

This thing is dense, wild, hilarious, timelessly prescient, and a feast for eyes and ears. I’m not sure ten viewings would be enough to even start recognizing each detail of set, characters, or plot.

By far the best Part Two in the universe (not necessarily hard to achieve) it also rests at the franchise’s peak alongside Iron Man, Avengers, and its predecessor to show the viability of cinematic serials.

Johnston and company are aware that introducing a hero means more than showing off his suit and gadgets or building up the universe he will eventually encapsulate. Before any of that, we must care about who he/she is.

For all its overindulgence in depravity, Belladonna stands as both an important forebear to a now-beloved genre and a confused, albeit earnest tribute to those who dare defy authority in order to elevate themselves.

Osmond knows how to present the citizens in a no-nonsense fashion that balances their day-to-day struggles and the parallel triumphs of their beloved horse.

There’s a lot that I like about what Rønde has done here to create a mood piece that chills your bones as it crescendos into abstraction.

Despite Reiner saying this isn’t a film about addiction, it ultimately proves to be just that. And that’s okay because the events Charlie goes through are what make the film captivating and resonate.

Clear-eyed, tightly wound, and cinematically and psychologically immersive, it’s a furious ride of a movie that actually has something to say.

Thanks to strong performances, deft writing, and clear, snappy direction and editing, this newest volume of the Marvel Cinematic Universe manages to be at once a thoroughly entertaining standalone story while also serving and benefiting from stories that came before.

Offers enough fine material and organizes them with enough intelligence to create a many-pieced psychological portraiture of one of the most intriguing filmmakers who’s ever lived.