If in his previous films about the regime Larraín often opted for subtlety, in El Conde elusiveness is a foreign notion. It is thrilling to watch the director repeatedly hit the nail in the head without much desire—or care—to engage with subtext.

When Arco comes to its inevitable “E.T.” Inspired conclusion, the wondrous score by Arnaud Toulon may have you this close to shedding a tear. And you’ll wonder if this future is truly only an animated dream.

A dark, but spirited fable about the pitilessness of the West, the meaning of home on the range and the worthwhile qualities of wicked, seemingly irredeemable men, “Slow West” is a terrific little parable, and a strong debut by John Maclean worth treasuring.

There’s something widely relatable about the way Barry tries to find somewhere to fit in, and preferably in a place where he can be himself and not somebody else’s symbol.

Steve James’ film not only convinces you to believe that a compassionate spy can exist but also to have compassion for a man who committed a traitorous act. And even though the editorial choices are leading in their execution, it’s no secret that A Compassionate Spy is a moving, thoughtful documentary.

Admirable, ambitious and impressive, but ultimately aloof, Midsommar has its delights for sure, but it lacks the emotional depth to match the sharp insights it has into the evils of the ambivalent, wishy-washy relationship (run as fast as you can).

Ambitious, impressive, and genuine, with a great sense of vast scale and awe, as its title suggests, Society Of Snow is not only a three-dimensional cinematic feat of wonder, terror, and emotion-stirring courage but a deeply felt portrait of togetherness, brotherhood, and survival, poignantly commemorating the painful memory of indescribable loss and tragedy.

Unsentimentally romantic, there’s enough grace in Summertime to keep you enraptured.

Lawrence is the undeniable propulsive force of “Die, My Love,” a performer whose rare ability to swing from the effortless charm of the classic movie star straight into the dark abyss that houses the odd and the grotesque lends itself perfectly to a role as tangled as Grace.

Is This Thing On? isn’t perfect. It stumbles where it should soar. But it’s alive with feeling, and that counts for something.

With nary a poor performance to be found and a tone that engages as much as it might cause one to shift uncomfortably in their seat, Bull is an engrossing experience. It’s not an instant genre classic but never strives to be, and in hitting such a simple goal, it, like Bull himself, somehow succeeds.

Make no mistake; there is no disputing this is clearly one of Marvel’s better efforts. And, yes, attempting to break from the expected shackles of a lineage of other origin movies is difficult, but you still feel the formula straining at the core of Doctor Strange.

Monroe does a lot to sustain what tension there is during the more perfunctory moments, delivering a seemingly effortless performance as a dejected young woman who approaches both her confusing new circumstances and the mystery that occupies her thoughts with calm and pragmatic patience, as well as curiosity.

Ultimately, The Suicide Squad is a tale of beautiful losers discovering their humanity in a brief, inspired moment of convergence, finding hard-fought salvation in each other and the notion that all of us are always worthy of dignity.

The brisk pacing of Fantasy Life is a credit to this editorial restraint, yet it also leads to one of the production’s few stumbles: its refusal to offer a satisfying, narratively cohesive ending. Even so, the film stands well on its own.

Infidelity has long been one of Hong’s central subjects, but The Day After might just be his greatest film about the ails of mixing business with pleasure.

Buffeted by both an incredible cast and crew, I Love Boosters is an unexpected celebration of friendship, community, and solidarity.

The film’s well-written, beautifully performed (not least from Huppert, who’s typically stunning as her icy, grief-stricken matriarch, and the moving Servillo, of “Il Divo” and “Gomorrah” fame), and nicely made, if a good 15 minutes overlong.

Time Is Illmatic is comprehensive, even wisely holistic, but still feels as though something is missing; it’s as if in trying to cover the history, the music, the ecosystem, the upbringing and the man itself, each cancels out the other out, leaving only a surface exploration.

Competently directed, and delivered with the expected emotional beats, Still Alice achieves its modest goals, but one wishes it had a grander vision.

While far from a poorly-made effort, Late Night with the Devil tries to take on too much and only slightly hovers above average in this regard.

McKenzie may frame the journey with some bemused curiosity, but the movie lands somewhere much angrier than that. Fair enough. A system this shady doesn’t deserve awe. It barely deserves the dignity of confusion.

Wildly bizarre and imaginatively alluring, if not occasionally slight, the animated movie, My Entire High School Sinking Into the Sea, is an engaging surrealist take on the disaster movie.

Rosefeldt’s visual panache and Blanchett’s astonishing versatility bring cinematic verve to something that could’ve easily come off as too dryly conceptual.

As the story progresses it becomes less and less interesting and worst of all – gasp – cliché.

Donald Cried is a film of small moments (that is almost marred by an explosive one) and it seems intent to linger in wistfulness, in the sort of hushed sadness that never becomes a fever pitch, but is all the better for it.

The thread connecting the finest shorts — Panahi, Poitras, and Joe — is adaptation, the willingness to alter form to match the challenge at hand. Those able to refit their already-developed technique to a new set of standards don’t just get the best results. In their undaunted, humble determination to continue, they embody the present zeitgeist with more fidelity than a thousand post-mortems.

Eileen leaves one wondering whether there was supposed to be an additional 20 minutes to the movie somewhere that someone accidentally deleted.

What is grief if not a non-linear, mood-spanning, incongruous mess? In this, The Shrouds feels like one of the greatest encapsulations of loss and one we might look at more and more fondly as time goes by.

The Kill Team doesn't saint Winfield at all, instead, smartly casting responsible, impartial questions as to what his options could have been.

A movie that forgoes solid storytelling for an atmosphere that keeps you captivated, director Jamie M. Dagg has made a film that plays with genres from neo-noir to thriller to even horror.

This is a profile of unfathomable courage that deserves to be seen, in part to honor those who supported the film’s supply of footage and cannot be listed in the credits for fear of repercussion. It is a testament to not giving up and the strength of a people united—not just by a song, but by a deep belief in a just future.

The Invisible Man is inarguably well done, and this is one of Elisabeth Moss’s best performances, but this is the kind of subject matter you can’t short-shrift. This is life-altering, traumatizing stuff, but in privileging horror shocks over emotional reality, this film unmasks itself. It’s not as interested in abuse victims as it is cheap thrills.

Matt Reeves’ The Batman should tell audiences that other superhero movies are possible, and yet more, they can be had outside the formulaic tentpoles filling theaters today.

The simplicity of the film is commendable, but it’s only in the last act where things finally come together and any kind of visceral thrills arrive far too late. Even Mikkelson’s on-screen talents can’t save an admirable yet stagnant film in dire need of a heartbeat.

Every time the picture opens a fascinating door, you're held back from going through by a naff filmmaking choice or a rote story move.

Ponsoldt, Paul and Winstead make a remarkably effective team for this film's points and purposes, and Smashed burns long after it goes down smoothly.

Elegantly constructed, wittily executed, delightfully ruthless, and scary as hell.

Tyrel boasts some fine performances and some compelling ideas, but ultimately, it plays like a version of Jordan Peele‘s “Get Out” where nothing happens.

Geoghegan’s Brooklyn 45 is largely able to rise above its shortcomings and deliver a unique, chilling story about the horrors of war and unsettling depths of humanity.

Schechter’s ideas remain strong through all of the confusion, and Long’s performance stands out due to its subtlety.

The filmmaker’s tart and scabrously funny (both literally and figuratively) sophomore feature is a pointed portrait of a toxic relationship and a razor-sharp evisceration of those warped by a victim mentality.

Tariq’s Mogul Mowgli is enrapturing, revelatory, and at all times, a nightmarish accounting of the bonds that make us, but can easily break us as well.

Delightfully twisted, Thirst Street takes the ideas of desire, romantic longing and desperation — desperation as the world’s worst cologne — and bathes it in a sheen of frosty colors, genuine vulnerability and sardonic unkindness.

Talking head interviews from his victims, business and works partners, and friends mesh together with archival photos, videos, and audio recordings of Weinstein for a compulsively watchable, yet not definitive, look at the man whose predatory behavior spearheaded the #MeToo movement.

The Imitation Game is entertaining and well-crafted, but one still can’t help but wish the drama had a bit more bite and nerve throughout.

London Road, on stage and celluloid, is an experiment likely to fall flat outside of the most devoted of cinephiles (and theatergoers), but an exciting one nonetheless, even if only for its boldness.

The Raid 2 brings the noise, but length, repetition and too much space also make it a slightly reduced echo of its predecessor.

Shang-Chi might get bogged down in the weight of water carrying -plot, legend, plenty of backstories, MCU connectivity, and the obligations of climatic superhero action that gets unwieldy, but in the end, it’s a winning film that’s likable and that quality goes a long way.

This movie will fill your heart up. Casarosa is an artist with a true perspective, fearless in his creative impulses and limitless in his compassion, and Luca is a pure expression of these sensibilities.

It’s a classic “Predator” film in many ways, subverting the paradigm slightly by featuring a new context: a Native American female warrior at its center, Naru (a persuasive Amber Midthunder, full of conviction). But as fresh as Prey does feel in this new warpaint on the surface, the film does feature a lot of inherent, built-in limitations.

I Am Breathing is not a documentary intended to induce sobbing. It is, instead, a film about dying that is stunningly alive, wildly optimistic, and always insightful and entertaining.

Lenny Cooke isn't a documentary, it's an autopsy, detailing exactly why Cooke vanished off the map and why he struggled to get back into the game, a focus that goes micro where other sports docs go macro.

Chaganty and co-writer Sev Ohanian deliver wonders on both the technical and narrative ends of Search, but editors Will Merrick and Nick Johnson do an astounding job as well.

Everything on the menu of The Menu looks good enough, but once its moldy tirade against the one percent has been fully dished out, it’s plain to see there’s not a whole lot of meat on the bone here.

Seeking Mavis Beacon is one of the most interesting and thoughtful docs you’ll likely see all year. It also feels a bit scattershot and unfocused at times. However, the experience of watching Jones and Ross grow and change as artists and people throughout the investigation is worth the price of admission alone.

By the waning minutes, when the film’s glimmering neorealism energy returns, cleansing the abrupt conclusion with a spellbound spirituality, Wladyka has assuredly provided a distinct vision that pulses to potent degrees.

With a minimalist production, an enormous burden is placed on the actors to engage audiences, and all three performers come through.

It’s a lovely film that resonates all the more so in a summer of louder, more cluttered movies, and knowing that Disney had the confidence to allow Lowery’s vision to flourish is the icing on the cake.

Uneven though it is, and downright shaggy at times, Prevenge is valuable in that it plots so unexpected an expectant-mother story — one in which pregnancy is actually ultimately minimized in terms of its impact on the story.

Larraín’s Ema will grate some. Even so, it’s one of the most ambitious and visually stunning films of the year.

Benyamina displays an empathetic and insightful view of young women, and the challenges of growing up, even if the screenplay doesn’t always follow through. But what Divines absolutely gets right is the deep longing and hunger young people have to better their circumstances, and the desperate lengths they’ll go to reach those goals.

He led a fascinating, complicated, often contradictory life, and Rock Hudson: All That Heaven Allowed does it justice.

Love+War doesn’t canonize Addario. It throws the audience into her contradiction: the duty to record history versus the duty to be present at home. It doesn’t answer whether those responsibilities can coexist, and that’s the point.

Spider-Man: No Way Home is maximalist, chock full of familiar characters and callbacks, and sometimes all that greatest-hits reminiscing is diverting and and entertaining. But it’s also not very necessary, making for a very regressive, fan-service-y ‘Spider-Man’ legacy-sequel that’s overly nostalgic for its heydays.

A film that takes so much care to spend time on a different perspective—on the woman juggling ambition and love without sacrifice—feels vital. At the same time, during the restrained and contemplative journey that precedes liftoff, “Proxima” often feels like it is waiting for a more devastating threat – you can do all the preparation in the world, and it still won’t prevent the fallout of the big leap when it happens.

Even if the film isn’t entirely to my taste, it’s a provocative and powerfully made piece of work.

Freeland endures as an introspective, succinct mood piece enriched by Fairchild’s phenomenal lead performance and the artistic vision of two compassionate filmmakers in tune with the essence of their craft.

It’s a profoundly vague piece of filmmaking that hides an undeniable magnetism beneath its bare-boned narrative.

Honey Bunch is a work of art, but it won’t go down easily for everyone, and it’s sure to be divisive. Definitely watch it with a friend or loved one — whether you’re picking apart the plot holes or reveling in the reveal, you’ll need to debrief afterward.

The two veteran actors share a lukewarm chemistry but settle into a competent balance between the diametrically opposed nature of their characters. Alas, as sharp as the duo might be, they cannot fight the moroseness that sets into the film’s latter half.

Wonderstruck lives in the glory of its filmmaking — its photography, its costuming, its set design, its brilliantly variegated Carter Burwell score.

Theo Who Lived is a cross-pollination of performance art and self-purging, a cleansing act that allows Curtis to face the demons that still torment him today from within the safety of a film production.

Along with screenwriters Robert Schenkkan and Andrew Knight, Gibson, whose lack of directorial subtlety but skill with action both reach an apex here, is not content to tell the true story of Desmond Doss and his unshakeable, courage-giving faith. He wants to convince us that his faith was, in fact, the truth.

[A] fascinating depiction of another kind of wolf of Wall Street, one whose endless hunger is only matched by his vile soullessness. [Unrated Version]

Even for those who do know Ailes’ history of profound power abuse and sexual harassment, Divide & Conquer is engrossing.

“Everybody’s Everything” is a loving tribute for fans as well as those unfamiliar. And for the latter, the doc truly creates a sense of humanity, awe, and undeniable raw talent that it makes it easy to why his music connected with so many people in such a quick amount time.

Holofcener knows human pathos, the melancholic, absurdist tragedy of it all, the laughter, the tears, the dark biting irony. She understands human behavior and her sharp, well-observed ‘Land Of Steady Habits’ is as lovely and near amazing as anything she’s made thus far.

22 Jump Street might not be quite as good as "21 Jump Street," but it's remarkably close, to the point where subsequent viewings could see it elevated above its predecessor.

As the film nears its conclusion, “Exit 8” becomes as emotionally enriching to feel through as it is enigmatically engrossing to play through. These minimalistic trappings help construct a shared space in which the redundancy of the setup can give way to meaningful reflection.

We expect nothing less than conversational pyrotechnics from two such outsize personalities, and there are many confrontational moments. But what emerges more strongly is a sense of mutual admiration – sometimes even envy – and a fascinating snapshot of a period in time when movies could really matter, as experienced by two men whose movies were among those that mattered most.

The movie feels like a cinematic palate cleanser the closer it comes to its inevitable ending.

We Are What We Are is just a great yarn, well-acted, elegantly shot and put together cleverly so that even its more visceral delights feel well-earned.

Gemini is deliriously entertaining, an intriguing gem and as Katz graduates to the next level, his best film to date.

Brad’s Status rarely affords its titular character an opportunity to have a real conversation with anyone else his own age, so the movie becomes a monologue from someone you quickly realize you don’t really want to get to know anyway.

While its story is thin, its emotional undercurrent has a strong pull with poignantly topical notions of empathy, grief, and mercy.

The downside is that Lagos is a more interesting character in this film than Lady herself, who Nwosu outlines with far less finesse. Such a glaring imbalance is symptomatic of the script’s overall flimsiness, which stands in contrast to this debut’s heartfelt performances and staggering visuals.

As an experience, “A Quiet Place Part II” is still riveting and intense and should check all the boxes for most audiences, especially in the “I just wanna be gripped and entertained” post-pandemic age. For those looking for a little more depth and soul and a movie to fully coalesce in the end? Well, you might have to wait for the next chapter for some true thematic and emotional closure, but still, it’ll be hard to argue this won’t be an escapist thrill for most audiences in theaters, at least.

There’s plenty to like, and this starter kit for detective fiction ought to serve as more of a net positive for kids than another soulless reboot of existing IP. But it’s a shame to settle for merely good when something great was very clearly a plausible outcome.

A curious, half-successful mutation in the “Predator” bloodline, ‘Badlands’ wants to transcend the franchise’s primal instincts. Instead, it proves that sometimes survival means knowing what not to evolve. Or at least, pushing the envelope with greater execution and story conviction.

For the most part, the breadth of its examination of the subject is welcome, and by the end, it ends up feeling like as definitive a film on comedy and the Holocaust as you could ever want.

While Dragon 3 suffers from the absence of a strong plot, poignant stakes, and narrative thrust, it’s still a story that most audiences will find something to connect with. It’s a fitting end for the Hiccup and Toothless’ story and How to Train Your Dragon 3 is mostly fantastical escapism that packs an emotional wallop.

With a conclusion that arrives as an open-ended gut punch, you're not just left lingering with unanswered questions, but the sensation that James Marsh has delivered something truly special.

As always, Lelio has a way with his actors. Nothing will ever feel forced. Even the most melodramatic stakes will feel grounded. And yet, despite a pointless framing device the film simply does not need, it’s missing some of the visual magic of his earlier films.

This is the cinematic equivalent of eating a macaron, a bourgeois treat best enjoyed for its prettiness rather than its substance. But much like a good macaron, a well-done period romance – interesting, well-paced, relatively pro-woman – is a deceptively hard thing to make. This is one exquisite petit four.

This is a controlled and impressive debut from Le Bon that hints at talent to come and offers a warm, if not always unique, approach to the growing pains of young love.

Beyond a commendable amount of love and effort, there’s nothing substantial to take away from The Disappearance of My Mother.

No doubt Rogowski shines brightly in this role—he’s known for his physical acting and portraying tacit protagonists has become his speciality lately (“Luzifer” or “Great Freedom”)—but seeing the way Louvart films him causes ripples of delight, most probably saving the film from a decisive failure on a conceptual level.