Where’s My Roy Cohn? is a worthy documentary, though it’s hard not to want more.

The vast majority of the people watching The Brink have their minds made up about Bannon and will not be swayed by his flamboyant rhetoric. At the same time, it’s difficult to pinpoint what exactly Klayman accomplishes with her film beyond a mere political horror show one can safely view from behind proverbial Plexiglas.

Bittersweet, touching and always funny, The Farewell is lived-in from top to toe.

As an oddity of the serial killer genre, some of Berlinger’s choices ring more as engagingly strange than unsuccessful.

Through his exquisite vision, Mascaro tells a curious tale of spiritual commitment, marital strife, and the blurred separation of church and state, leading to an ultimately surprising, powerful conclusion.

It may end up playing as a silly lark, but along with dismantling ideas of masculinity, Daniel Scheinert has also created a singularly entertaining crime comedy built on utter idiocy.

[A] thoroughly engrossing documentary.

The prison drama is a well-worn sub-genre, ripe with predictive beats and expected narrative turns. Those behind this picture are determined to subvert those expectations, and the attempt–though not fully realized–is much appreciated.

Never truly scary or side-splitting hilarious (aside from one of the single greatest visual jokes I’ve seen in a long while, involving a kindergarten class picture), Little Monsters can often feel toothless in its bite, ending up being a watchable, if watered-down zombie comedy.

The pace picks up quite a bit in the film’s third act, working hard to wrap everything up. It’s extremely rushed and convenient, but by then Blinded By The Light will have either won or lost its viewers.

There’s no subversion of machismo then — just reinforcement.

Peirone reverses the usual trend of providing answers so her audience can open its eyes, inundating us with more and more questions thanks to a full sensory overload of sight and sound instead. Time becomes malleable, danger but a brief interlude forgotten as quickly as it was born. She removes the pathways from one scene to another so we can find ourselves in the same bottomless rabbit hole as her characters.

As we hear the actual recordings of the astronauts communicating with the designated capsule communicator (aka CAPCOM), it gives Apollo 11 an underlying, powerful thread of humanity.

Somewhere in the middle of After The Wedding it becomes clear as day: Michelle Williams is one of a kind. Not that we didn’t know this already. Still, it’s nice to be reminded.

While Adam seems almost like a rite of passage before we get more complex trans dramas in mainstream filmmaking, one can’t help but feel frustrated by its missed opportunities.

There are some solid supporting performances in small dramatic doses (Koechner, Hochlin, and Walger) and comedic ones too (Jeong, Venskus, and Tituss Burgess do well in mostly thankless roles), but the topline trio is where Then Came You is at its best.

Velvet Buzzsaw may not be visionary, but it’s a ton of fun.

Pesce is meticulously constructing the perfect murder only to systematically dismantle it for devilish fun. Maybe it’s a spoiler to call Piercing a comedy, but that’s exactly what it is.

There is nary a moment of death that isn’t drawn out for laughs, or a moment of comedy drawn out for sorrow. Among the ice and the wind, Cold Pursuit paints an unsuspecting, desolate place, where death doesn’t care about you, so you might as well laugh.

Soni is shot like an entirely third-person experience, but is scripted like a workplace drama, begging for us to know Soni and Kalpana inside and out. By tracking them instead of giving them space to take up the frame while the camera sits, it always seems like these two characters are too far out of reach, and in a movie of this type, that is a death knell.

Just like Issa López did in Mexico with Tigers Are Not Afraid, Brazilians Gabriel Bitar, André Catoto, and Gustavo Steinberg have crafted Tito and the Birds as a powerful metaphor utilizing reality’s horrors to drive home a point too many have resigned themselves into ignoring.

The Standoff at Sparrow Creek isn’t about finding hope in a hopeless situation through a broken man willing to be the hero rather than villain. No, it wants to show the monstrousness of complicity and the helplessness of a conflict too far-gone to solve.

Hart and Cranston seem committed and work their magic to sometimes allow the movie to spring to life.

If nothing else, Perfect Strangers is a film about how limited we are in the way in which we use technology. Rather than using it as a tool to advance our ways of storytelling and means of unique self-expression, we’re allowing its pettiest aspects to tell us who we are, becoming strangers to ourselves.

Students of the genre will know what’s coming and if you’re craving a few thrills, you can do far worse.

Ignorance to technology is a running theme throughout both to earn easy laughs due to the ageist nature of the joke and intrigue as far as which man — if any — is in control. That probably won’t be enough to get some audiences on board what is a pretty straightforward genre film, but it’s enough to provide its own spin. Between that and the sheer joy of seeing these actors comment on their careers through these characters, a good time should be had.

One can respect what Knight is trying at, while never fully buying into it. Despite the talent and the brazen originality, Serenity‘s reach exceeds its grasp.

The Kid Who Would Be King’s arrhythmic pacing proves to be a liability, particularly in the homestretch when Cornish establishes three separate endings and decides to power through all of them