This film is about ownership of one’s actions. It’s about accepting that which you cannot run from. No matter how dark that reality appears, however, The Ranger is also very funny.

Littlest Reich is almost passionately gory. It’s essentially a series of murders, strung together by the most simplistic method imaginable: a cut.

We the Animals is most effective when it breaks free from conventional storytelling and relies on image, sound, emotion, and mood.

While these individual images are indeed powerful, the surrounding film lacks thematic depth and narrative substance, rendering it inert and rather forgettable.

While Sól’s trajectory is the plot’s main thrust, she’s really a conduit to a vérité depiction of life’s myriad complexities.

Gutierrez does well to share just enough information so that each subsequent revelation can reframe everything before it.

With The Meg, Turtletaub flounders about, failing to wring out a basic amount of tension in most scenes, leaving us to swim around in circles with only spare, Statham-infused signs of life.

At its height, Summer of ’84 sings like a sandy page-turner you end up finishing in the fall, with the wind swirling and mischief night just around the corner.

For all the times I applauded the film based on its sociological achievements, I found it deeply unsatisfying artistically.

The whole therefore hinges upon Fishback’s performance and she assuredly carries it upon her shoulders.

In Dyrholm, Nicchiarelli found the ideal partner to bring to life such an iconic figure. The Danish actress channels Christa’s larger than life presence, her sardonic charm, and most surprising of all: her singing voice.

The foundation for a terrific, informative and bone-chilling documentary about where we currently are is here, but the problem is that we’re still very much in the middle of this story.

Outrage Coda is not a great film, nor an essential one, but it accomplishes what it sets out to with gallows humor and a deeply cine-literate style.

This film leans hard into its irreverence, knowingly sacrificing mystery and twists for foolproof laughs.

Unlike several nonfiction works that try to create defining portraits of the figures they chronicle, the filmmakers behind McQueen know that their subject is ultimately larger than life, so they bask in the creations he left behind and invite us to join if we’re willing to lose ourselves in them.

Tyrnauer captures this figure with empathy, humor, and as much fascination as we too possess watching. At the end of the day Bowers’ list of clientele is far less captivating than the fact each member loved and trusted him as an equal.

What should be tender and whimsical feels repetitive and off-putting.

Add a surprisingly talkie ending that tries to walk back the no-holds-barred bloodshed for the revelation of a secret I honestly didn’t care about anymore and I found myself fatigued rather than excited.

Judiciously gritty in its specifics, Araby’s scope is ecumenical.

Set It Up, from its title on down, is a fresh mixture of a reliable formula.

No matter how hokey or neatly cyclical things get, Johnson excels.

The Night Eats the World gazes upon what’s left of society through a lens of pragmatism. It acknowledges that humanity is barely beating back its own extinction, that survivors are the minority and therefore minutes from oblivion if they cannot adapt.

A tour de force of documentary filmmaking, Minding the Gap is a lively, often beautifully shot film about a pit of hopelessness–from dead-end jobs to drunken arguments to bad decisions. This is modern day John Cassavetes with tattoos and punk music.

McQuarrie has proven himself such a keen purveyor of large-scale cinema that not only solidifies Fallout as a benchmark for the franchise, but a bona fide manifesto for breathtaking, high-stakes action–a mission that the genre as a whole would do well to accept.

Fast and furious in its information and interviews, this documentary is engaging from minute one, rarely letting the viewer off the hook.

The reason to see Siberia is, quite simply, the presence of Keanu Reeves.

You’ll find yourselves laughing and hating yourself for doing so because Sigurðsson doesn’t play scenes for comedy despite very obviously writing for it. This is a testament to his direction and the actors’ heightened states of borderline farce played with complete sincerity.

The First Purge becomes a call to arms so to speak (sometimes to its detriment) — a reminder that we must stand up and for each other at the voting booths and in our communities now so we won’t need the civil war of Election Year.