While The Fate of the Furious is an unquestionably enjoyable outing, it’s beginning to feel a lot like fatigue on a long-enduring franchise.

If anything, this comes off as a bit of an imitation of Thai master Apichatpong Weerasethakul, yet without the presence of the supernatural that situates his films in something formally and culturally specific.

Director Pete Travis lends the evening setting a welcomingly mysterious glow amongst its shadows, visually complementing Neate’s plotting to bring us into the action on the ground floor.

A jumbled, hodgepodge of ideas and images that spoil the initially intriguing premise.

Beat by beat, The Ticket offers one predictable, obvious revelation after another right down to its conclusion.

Although the film is ultimately a celebration of Bell’s numerous achievements, which are inseparable from her sex considering the time and place, it’s nonetheless regrettable that her love life should serve as the narrative thread, especially since this thread is formed through an absence of relationships.

Marczak himself, who also plays cinematographer, is wary to delineate the line between narrative and nonfiction, and part of the film’s joy is forgoing one’s grasp on this altering perspective, rather simply getting wrapped up in the immaculately-shot allure of its location.

Its style is audacious, its plot minimalist, and its future full of potential.

There are no surprises, for better or worse.

Gifted proves cutely endearing and effectively poignant if not especially memorable in any “everyone needs to see it” way.

Shinkai’s film opens up from cute stranger-in-a-strange-body antics and expands into a philosophical and metaphysical parable about fate.

Salt and Fire may feel like a joke of sorts, it’s one attuned enough to a genuinely idiosyncratic sensibility to still register enough as a genuine search for something new.

The Boss Baby is a run-of-the-mill offering from DreamWorks who have prioritized frantic action and one-liners over the rich complexity of its competition.

Cézanne et moi alternates between frustrating and engaging, but there is no doubt that its soberness in the face of luxury and genius, and its fidelity, despite some slight shallowness, linger on.

If there’s one thing to take from watching Tony engage with his own past, it’s the gleeful delight he shows when talking about rejection. He wore every instance that viewers didn’t like what he made as a badge of honor.

This iteration of Ghost in the Shell remixes elements from the various comics, films, and TV series that have come before, but offers nothing new or interesting in doing so.

The Death of Louis XIV may be Serra’s clearest film in terms of formal patterns and his most mysterious in actual meaning. It depends on who you ask; to this writer, that’s a good thing.

Folk Hero & Funny Guy rises above cliché thanks to a sure-handed, thought-out script, and memorable performances.

There’s much to interest the Lynch fan here, but it also might be an unparalleled assessment of the artistic learning of a great American filmmaker.

The film itself seems to have blossomed organically while unfortunately never quite finding its motivation.

Shepard’s screenplay only feels a few drafts away from something that might have worked.

It helps that the chemistry between Lister-Jones and Pally works, but one does wonder if another pass at the script would have elevated the film for one to care more about what’s at stake.

Oscillating between personal documentary and a scattered historical record, Karl Marx City leaves dramatic tension and narrative threads by the wayside in favor of casting wide thematic webs.

Because of this lack of dramatic momentum, the elements of Bokeh that do work best — the occasionally enrapturing cinematography, the dreamlike score, and the interesting-but-overused experiential editing — all wear thin halfway through.

Despite a layer of derivative blandness with the formation of its characters and cribbing from sci-fi greats, there’s something downright invigorating about a film without loftier ambitions than providing slasher-in-space pulp.

There’s something powerful to be read into every action, line, and image. Subtle yet striking, this is a film that is filled with the power of exquisitely executed storytelling.

The not-so-subtle message of Deidra & Laney Rob a Train is one of self-confidence and self-actualization, and every single “good” character progresses fairly steadily towards their own version of this ideal, a decision that renders the eventual outcomes somewhat tedious in their predictability.

Don’t think this story is one steeped in heavy drama from start to finish without room to breathe. Roberts’ script — written from an original idea by Robyn Joy Leff — is also very funny.