For a movie that follows a character’s perspective while remaining aware of his shortcomings, The Father marks a modest and involved debut from Zeller.

Mortensen is clearly attuned to the emotional toll of maintaining such a relationship—loving someone even if they don’t show any love back—but once this idea is firmly laid out early on, the repetitive narrative doesn’t expand to reveal more layers of complexity.

The tell-all exposé on why exactly The Last Thing He Wanted is a failure on almost every level is likely many years away, but it’s been some time since such a promising concoction of talented ingredients has resulted in something so impossibly dull, gratingly lethargic, and utterly incoherent.

The tired narrative double crosses and verbose exposition ultimately distract from the film’s artistic desire to complicate the female gaze within action cinema.

Garner is effective, the camera rarely losing focus of her. This is an actress whose animated features tell an engaging story without needing much help.

The script, from Andy Siara, never loses momentum.

Whether it’s because of the script or David Bruckner’s so-so direction, its attempts at eschatological dread don’t quite stick.

Frankly, this is content that makes one feel a bit better about the future. All the poems may not connect, all of the performances may not stick, and the ending may play a bit more maudlin than intended, but the energy on display and the goodness therein should be enough to melt the coldest of hearts.

Providing levity and comfort to ideas of mortality, Kirsten Johnson has illuminated the sweet embrace of death.

There isn’t much here to really latch onto, save for some preciously executed technical choices.

The finishing of the narrative puzzle isn’t as graceful as the mindful setting of its pieces, but this is a rare director who has something compelling to convey with each choice he makes behind the camera.

While both central performances give Blast Beat an inescapable urgency, the film can’t overcome its decision to embrace tired genre tropes that ultimately mark the screenplay.

Beast Beast has no real drive to it, and it becomes especially apparent once something actually “happens.”

Colangelo is a strong director of actors, but Borenstein’s script lets her down a bit.

For the first half of the picture, Bettany’s soft, contemplative performance investigates Frank’s self-hatred with such beauty that the re-introduction of the rest of the family feels like a detriment, despite the talent of the cast.

Downhill brings its characters to the brink of somewhere exciting but never commits to a full descent.

Promising Young Woman is always entertaining and it will linger for a long, long time.

Where Decker’s film excels is in the innovative perspective brought to each moment and the talented ensemble that gets to grab ahold of the material. Elisabeth Moss and Michael Stuhlbarg are having so much scenery-chewing fun they practically end up swallowing the single location.

More abstract than her previous films–and therefore, I imagine, off-putting to many–the steady, surreal, and sweet flashes of brilliance in this one-of-a-kind story are enough to sustain interest during some of the more tedious passages.

Bad Hair has some nice directorial details. It also has lots that lack sufficient motivation, and Philip J. Bartell’s editing often borders on the hyperactive. As far as nutty ideas go, this one could have used some conditioning.

Ultimately, Cooke and company do a satisfactory job of telling an incredible story.

Crip Camp is both an inspiring historical document of a grass-roots movement but also an urgent call to action for those on the sidelines of ongoing political and societal battles.

This collection of lost souls and inquiry into their perspective on life results in a tale of profound authenticity and devastating heartbreak.

Hittman has provided an essential, specific look at just one person’s struggle to have control over her own body. By doing so with such a delicate, considered perspective, she’s giving a voice to millions of women going through the same experience. And it’s time to listen.

Accompanied by Mica Levi’s score–which mixes fairytale-esque harps to introduce the story and Southern-fried beats and synths as the craziness progresses–Bravo elevates the material and provides a unified, eccentric vision.

As darkly comic as it is foreboding–and boasting an outrageously rich and nuanced central performance from the great Icelandic actor Ingvar Sigurdsson, who plays the larger than life Ingimunder, a man more than capable of living up to the scale of his own name–A White, White Day takes the tropes of a psychological thriller but presents them with a virtuosic and austere visual flare.

While Avnet’s film is effective melodrama, it’s hardly a completely honest depiction of what happened.

There are no sides when it comes to appreciating soldiers like William Pitsenbarger—only awe. Rather than epitomize a great military man, he exemplifies what it is to be a great human being. That’s why his story can change the priorities of a man like Huffman and why those he barely knew can dedicate their lives to his honor.