It doesn’t always work as a coherent whole, but The Amusement Park is still a fascinating experiment from a director at the height of his creative skills.

Enough coincidence and happenstance exists in this film to fill a dozen studio love stories, but that doesn’t mean any of it is unearned. There’s no safety net here, making Tsuji and Ukiyo’s epic tale of unrequited love, absence, and yearning the ultimate leap of faith.

Moreh’s approach creates a surprisingly comprehensive, if (by design) one-sided, American-centric view of the peace process. Interviews and archival materials have a means of immersing us in the backroom discussion.

The Dry reveals itself as an engaging thriller in the vein of fellow Australian production Top of the Lake with duplicitous figures sharing a contentious enough history to confuse facts with emotions thanks to having a familiar face heading up the investigation.

The visuals ooze creepiness, even if the payoff doesn’t arrive until the very end.

By attempting to capture the universal instead of focusing on the specific, the film feels like a collection of ideas put forth in an amorphous collage.

For those curious and willing, this is a beautiful reminder of what it’s like to be properly throttled by an unexpected cinematic jolt.

Even if the impact Bad Tales creates ultimately feels cheap, there’s no denying the force and expert construction of it.

The title De forbandede år [Into the Darkness] isn’t therefore solely about Hitler’s shadow absorbing Denmark into its empire. It’s about the insidiousness of white supremacy consuming those who believed themselves immune days earlier.

The Oak Room is playing games with us as well.

By spending time with both sides, Five Years North (titled after the period of time many Guatemalans stay in the US en route to making money for a planned return) is able to foreground its big takeaway: privilege.

The attempt to humanize Cruella neuters what made her so entertaining.

Verma and Moroles stick together even when things get too crazy to believe—each ready to take a bullet for the other if necessary. Their comedic timing is only outdone by their authentic, heartfelt terror about the unknown. Never let your fear of what others might think outweigh the fear of letting it dictate who you become.

Slathered in nostalgia for past moments in the franchise yet still introducing entirely new backstories, this humdrum antepenultimate adventure leaves one convinced those steering the series don’t have a firm grasp on where it’s heading.

In a rare moment of open self-criticism, Gorbachev ponders that he was perhaps “too soft” on those traitorous countrymen who rallied to unseat him; that he ought to have had them “sent away.” It’s the lone sobering, tantalizing, self-aware peek into the savage realpolitik lurking beneath his noble words.

This is Imaishi’s world. Every cut, gesture, and line of dialogue here is punctuated by maximum comic book-style exclamation points. Every spectacular action feat is escalated several different times over the top, crossing from coolness through self-parody and back to coolness in a way that’s bound to make the attention-deficient among us stand up and cheer.

Though not a film as big or bombastic as North Korea’s political gestures, nor one to ruminate on larger questions about the political state of East Asia’s former Third World and the Western observer’s role to bear, White’s picture pokes its head above the masses of drably shot, dryly informational documentaries currently dominating streaming services with both its clear and concise journalism and its deft command of narrative and genre.

Action sequences are choreographed and edited with a degree of tight conceptual and spatial coherency that puts nearly any Marvel movie to shame, whether close-quarters scuffles or epic woman-on-kaiju confrontations.

The Holocaust is one of the most exhaustively documented events in history, yet it can seemingly never be documented enough. This is not only due to the relentless persistence of antisemites and fascist sympathizers in trying to sow doubt as to its veracity, but because many more seemingly benign parties have managed to distance themselves from fascism’s warning to the West, and the world.

Playing With Sharks could have easily been another documentary heaping praise onto an individual, but it works so well because it allows its subject to engage with her greatest regrets as much as her greatest achievements.

What few flaws In the Heights has are easy to overlook when being handed a musical as passionately and tactfully mounted as this one. It’s a playful tribute to the community of immigrants it lovingly represents, performed with effusive charisma by its talented cast, likely to win over any viewer wishing to partake in all the joy it has to offer.

Only by the climax, which features a couple of outrageous images and ridiculous twists, does Seance seem to really be taking any pleasure in being a genre movie.

Real heroes are always one misstep away from being the cautionary tale they hope to prevent others from becoming. That’s why Hanif’s story is worth telling. That he can flirt with relapse, hit emotional brick walls that would defeat the best of us, and still look beyond today to realize the value of his life and that of those battling alongside him regardless of age, potential, or opportunity is why he’s an inspiration.

It takes great maturity and confidence to make a film about the emergence of a young woman’s sexuality that also dares to ask complex, provocative questions while understanding there are no simple answers. Suzanne Lindon is such a filmmaker, and her brisk, entertaining debut Spring Blossom is such a film.

Here is the rare kind of often sweet college comedy with good-natured laughs that captures a side of the process rarely seen in frat comedies: the divide between those in the service industry and those that have the luxury to party eight days a week.

In a Hollywood where sequels are mandated to go bigger and expand the I.P. to chase the dollar signs of a cinematic universe, on paper, it is refreshing that Krasinski decided to stay relatively small-scale with the sequel. Yet, in carrying over the narrow scope, the narrative hang-ups of the first outing are only expounded upon here with a rinse-and-repeat blueprint to the stakes that feels all-too-repetitive. Considering the resources at Krasinski’s disposal to do something genuinely exciting, it’s disappointing to see the lessons that went unlearned as the same tricks get duplicated.

Those Who Wish Me Dead is a violent, enjoyable action film that doesn’t aspire to preach. Instead, the film foregrounds Angelina Jolie reclaiming her title as a preeminent action star, moving at such an energetic speed that by the time you start to think about the sheer insanity of the plot, the credits are already rolling.

Enfant Terrible feels like one missed opportunity after another.