Not only is Bobby Sands: 66 Days allows us to put together a great double feature with “Hunger,” it’s also an incredibly important and profoundly inspiring historical documentary that will become more and more relevant as we prepare to once again face the kinds of oppression that Sands fought against.

Chu’s performance is astonishing.

Handsomely mounted, this is a period drama in which both unspoken demands and stated appetites drive the emotions that simmer below the surface from the first frame. And though this doesn’t transcend what you might expect from the genre, few movies are delivered with this much craft and care.

Fans of Birbiglia should be easily entertained, and with a little luck, it will only earn this particular loveable neurotic a few more of those.

It may be too gentle to leave a deep impression, but its sweetness is also well-earned and nice to savor.

Though Sadoff’s chilling documentary sometimes resembles less a film than a briefing (albeit one narrated by Peter Coyote), the warning here is dire; simplicity may be the best tactic to get the message across.

Tamblyn’s at no loss of interesting things to say and show on screen, and Paint it Black has some real gems among the jumble, especially Shawkat, who ably shoulders the task at hand, and gives a raw and sensitive performance of a woman dealing with the loss of a lover far too young.

The result is a drama full of intriguing ideas, and one unexpectedly memorable performance, that is often more obvious than it wants to be.

Despite the affecting drama and performances, Run and Jump just never feels more that perfunctory in this regards.

Andrew Gaynord’s All My Friends Hate Me is an incredibly funny look at social anxiety and a send-up to those risks, mixed with a shot of cringe and a dose of horror.

The movie lives and dies, however, on Ingrid herself and, remarkably, Plaza finds a way for you to root for her even when she crosses line after line after line.

Its interweaving of powerful performances and spiritual complexity, eventually melded with local folklore, is nothing short of beautiful.

It is a moving healing journey, but one that feels almost too smooth, a best-case scenario with few bumps in the road and, more significantly, very few surprises.

Bolstered by tone-perfect performances from all three of the leads, and a script that hides larger themes within the body of the narrative like vegetables in mashed potatoes, Wild Men hits with the force and precision of an arrow fired from Martin’s homemade bow. And while the tone of the film toys with the absurd, what it has to say about masculinity, regret, and what it means to belong is anything but.

Ash Mayfair’s debut film is an astonishing achievement for a first feature, one not every film-goer will be able to stomach, but a work every caring cinephile should see.

The Survivor is occasionally infected by the aridness of the handsome, well-made historical film — it feels old-fashioned, in both the complimentary and pejorative senses. But some of that is purposeful and even a little subversive.

In Euthanizer, director Teemu Nikki has successfully created a cinematic metaphor for contemporary world politics, one that is full of unexpected plot developments and a surprisingly thoughtful take on personal morality.

Alvarez’s visual flair and handle on tone can only mask his paper-thin characters and motivations for so long.

Sorkin’s swordsman-like pen continually keeps the picture engaging; his knack for one-liners and absurd dialogue detail remains finely attuned.

What makes Joe Berlinger’s riveting new true crime doc Whitey: The United States vs. James J. Bulger such an eye-opener is that it isn’t just about a bad guy who did bad things, but the layers of corruption and moral ambiguity that stacked up on both side of the law.

Though the ambition is commendable and the genuine depth of study should be applauded, Stan Pleskun is a character we'd ultimately scratch off our list after meeting him in Zachary Levy's Strongman.

This is one of the most joyous and exhilarating movies you will see this year and because there is so much passion flowing out from the music, screenplay, and acting, you totally forgive the film when it strays into the predictable and even a little bit of corniness.

While the documentary may not offer a startling new thesis, it still lands in its own subdued way. What lingers is not simply the ugliness of the rhetoric, but the banality of the scam.

Abel Ferrara’s Pasolini is a frustrating film, despite vast stretches of compelling storytelling.

Yes, God, Yes is too comfortable with itself, too certain in its moral message, while leading Alice through a narrative that is never less than sure. It’s sex comedy as gospel, preaching a placid Sunday afternoon sermon to a congregation of the converted.

The movie has its flaws, but they’re tough to remember in the face of the fun it provides for two hours.

With its sensational production designs, lavish costumes and Grant providing one of his best performances in years (if not one of his best performances ever), Florence Foster Jenkins is appealing if ultimately slight.

Credit Swanberg who served as both director and editor for making a film that feels loose without ever being ponderous or phony.

The film is a boilerplate biopic, but with stunning cinematography and a couple of fierce performances, The Theory of Everything is nothing if not an accomplished and emotional work of cinema.

Perhaps most impressive is how, despite the nostalgia inherent in this kind of endeavor, "Sleeping Giant" never sentimentalizes its story, and never compromises on the essentially bleak idea that you can be transformed from a carefree child shading your eyes from the glare of a huge, wide future to a scarred and haunted young adult in a single moment.

A hyper-realistic urban tragedy Dogman is ferocious and in its own way, much more frightening than “Gomorrah.”

The chemistry between Patel and Hardy is often divine, and the latter delivers such a layered and charismatic performance you’re with it till the end.

Brewer, of course, is the glue that holds the puzzle together. If we didn’t care for her surreal plight, then the film would just not work, but the actress builds a thoroughly believable character in Alice.

It’s a crowd pleaser of a film, whose powerful musical moments can overshadow any smaller issues within the film.

On the whole, there is an old-fashioned grandness to Blitz, charged by a cumulative sense of civic toughness and rebellious spirit that always spreads itself over a people, a city, or a country when they are collectively faced with unspeakable tragedies they have to endure.

It aims for simplicity, for a celebration of his unrivaled talents, and often fails to explore the complexity of the very man at its center.

As Frankie, Mastroianni carries the film, and what could be considered an emotionless expression she wears nonstop carries far more than one realizes as the events unfold and whatever exists in Frankie’s life starts to unravel.

The award-winning filmmaker is a one-woman crew on the project, and Klayman’s tenacious fly on the wall, verité approach illuminates the cynical limitations of Bannon’s cruel human worldview through day-to-day contradictions, far more than an interview-style documentary where such a figure is given a platform to talk in circles ever possibly could.

Shazam! is carried aloft by an exuberant performance by Zachary Levi as the title character, all muscles and wide-eyed naïveté.

There is something not quite right about this one Almodóvar film, a dramedy that emulates all that makes a story Almodovarian but bypasses its essence entirely.

Uplifting in a tiny, understated and very authentic way, Sworn Virgin shows us gently how its possible to be living in exile in the world you know best, and how it's possible to come home to a place you've never been before.

As it is, the enormity of these feelings is trapped, lingering unexplored with nowhere to go, and the frustration felt as a viewer eventually gives way to disengagement.

What really sells both the fashionable remove and generational paralysis is the pairing of Elliott and McNulty, as they effortlessly establish a passive-aggressive relationship from the get-go that thrives in a constant state of reliably unreliable codependence.

The picture is often graphic and pulls no punches in its disturbing violence, but its unflinching nature gives it a memorable sear that won't soon be forgotten.

A layered and hilarious look at the dynamics of family, relationships, and need.

There are moments of beauty and charm, but also ones that felt rather broad, like an extract from a live-action Disney movie or something. It is fitfully interesting, but nearly broke our twee detectors.

There’s probably just enough elevation by Pearce and Jarvis’ performances to overpower the novice inputs of Williams and Miller. Inside is mostly passable as a film about men and prisons that thinks – wait for it – inside the box.

The best news is that the songs, by Galvin, Gordon, Lieberman, Platt, and Mark Sonnenblick (“Spirited,” “Lyle Lyle Crocodile”) were written beforehand. Those compositions contribute to the one-time-only musical performance that practically saves the movie. The songs and staging of the show are simply hilarious.

This is a hearty, four-course meal for film fans, which, once again, demonstrates that the study of a film can be just as invigorating an experience as the actual film itself.

The Walk is broadly written with two clunky first acts that are saved, arguably superseded entirely, by its nerve-wracking, majestic and spectacular finish.

Aesthetically detached, clinical, and with murderousness always happening in broad daylight, Veni Vidi Vici might arguably be more clever than laugh-out-loud funny or insightful. Still, some of the facetious formalism goes a long way.

Dior And I succeeds in bringing this exclusive world down to earth, knitting the viewer with its needles and threads and making a highly relatable story, no matter where you come from or how you feel about fashion.

Sundown doesn’t subvert what we’ve come to expect from Franco’s work, but it is still a distinctively cerebral rumination.

Legislation has passed to fix Japan’s “aging problem,” and temper hate crimes against the elderly: anyone over the age of seventy-five can apply for government-funded assisted suicide. From this bleak premise, Chie Hayakawa’s beautifully humanist Plan 75 takes flight.

Mangold has crafted the definitive portrait of this era and the poetic, aspiring, rebellious kid who refused to be pigeonholed, held down and defined.

Maidentrip ends up being not necessarily about the amazing feat that Dekker accomplished, it’s about finding one’s true self, and enjoying the ride along the way.

It’s not acknowledged enough how difficult it is to make a period piece that doesn’t feel staged or performative. Nichols genuinely captures the spirit of this particular era and keeps your attention even if you never gave a second thought to those packs of bike riders passing you on the highway.

While Felix von Groeningen's film, which centers around a couple whose child is diagnosed with cancer, could easily have strayed into maudlin territory, the deft, non-chronological structure and the constantly surprising, beautiful performances -- both acting and the musical -- elevate it well clear of any Movie of the Week associations.

Art Bastard is a respectful and affectionate look into the life of a true outsider in the art world.

A portrait of an eccentric town that almost feels like a social experiment, just as much as it’s a murder mystery, Last Stop Larrimah is a shaggy, fascinating tale that marries Duplass Brothers-style absurdity (they act as producers here) with the ever-popular true-crime genre to pretty enthralling results.

Sisu communicates the basics without glossing over the record, and best of all without taking up time better spent liquifying bad guys.

Resurrection is emotionally searing, wildly unhinged and maybe even a little batshit crazy. However, as anchored by its two fiercely committed and convincing lead performances (Rebecca Hall and Tim Roth), a menacingly disquieting tone, and a frightening ambiguity about a disintegrating mental state, Resurrection is a deeply distressing and compelling drama that will shock and shake you to your core.

It’s a charming, modest glimpse into a rarefied world that, lit with so much humble affection for its characters, manages to make it seem not so rarefied after all.

Perry combines a knock-out cast with an incisive script for a wild-eyed musical-drama with poignant themes.

At its heart, Raiders! is an underdog story, and as with any underdog story, it becomes even more compelling as the stakes are continually raised against our heroes.

The Nice Guys, which the screenwriter also directed, is the best of Black’s films. It is eccentrically, sometimes broadly funny, with top-notch performances from Crowe and Gosling and a pitch-perfect sense of timing to help smooth over some of the script’s fault lines and blind spots.

The book is so counter to our contemporary narrative demands that liberties would need to be taken for a movie version, and for the most part Osborne takes the right liberties, ending up with an extremely beautiful, very charming, thematically rich take that’s sure to be one of the better animated movies this year.

While it makes its point half-way into its running time and you start getting the anxious jitters of a film that overstays its welcome, A Ciambra serves the fundamental cinematic purpose of transporting you to another world.

This is one of those films where the less you know going in, the better. It’s fair to say that some genre elements start to bubble up and then pretty much burst to the surface by the film’s end, all while remaining a romance at heart.

Despite a fantastic performance by Fares (and a stellar score from Alexandre Desplat), “Eagles” doesn’t have the emotional gut punch you’d expect. But you believe that everything Saleh depicts can or will occur, and that’s an achievement in and of itself.

It’s a film where every detail of the craft is worth taking in even when the story starts to lose steam a bit towards the end.

Beautifully shot, touchingly performed and delivered with a thrillingly atmospheric sense of place, Heartstone lets us meditate on these themes during that long last summer, when childhood seems like it’s going to extend, agonizingly, forever, only for it to be snapped abruptly away like a shout on the wind.

The Oslo Diaries is at its most gripping – and its most devastating – in its coverage of how close to peace the two sides came but have still yet to reach.

Rather misjudged dips into the realm of fantasy likewise fail to lift up proceedings, but Rodeo is at its best when it stays down to earth, close to the pavement.

Regrettably, any sympathy the film has mustered is diminished by at least three, maybe four, additional endings that are frustratingly superfluous. These never-ending epilogues add nothing to what has come before it and, in many ways, curtail any emotional heights the film has garnered to this point.

In substance, it might be Vigalondo’s most ambitious film to date. And while there’s a sense at times of his uncertainty in fully committing to the ideas on the page, in the moments when the conceptual component of “Colossal” is fully embraced, the results are truly chilling.

Mckenzie is a good match as an actor, countering Davis’s big emotions with a quieter turn and more introverted but no less affecting. She isn’t afraid of the difficult contradictions of the character, and by the film’s end, we’re struck by how much everyday horror this young woman shoulders and sucks up.

Even at its most unwieldy, Audiard’s cinematic skill and Zoe Saldana‘s at times dazzling performance make it hard to ignore.

“Sword of Truth” is full of seemingly effortless charms and quirks, but Shelton keeps it from overloading into full-on twee. This is a small film in every way: one that sometimes lacks precision, but its casual feel really works within its world and among its characters.

If the results are more than a little preachy, it’s only because Patel cares so passionately about the issues he spotlights and the cinematic language of violence he uses to discuss them.

This film reveals not just how integral casting directors are to the creative process of filmmaking, but really how important they have been in shaping the history of American cinema.

A heavy film about the indignities victims of domestic violence have to experience to be safe, Herself still possesses much grace and doesn’t dare to wallow in its misery. It’s also a poignant film about what it takes to be at peace and how it is everyone’s duty to make sure their voices don’t go unheard.

Ant-Man & The Wasp somehow manages to organize laughs, action, theme, small MCU connections and even fairly touching ideas about family, responsibility and what it means to be a hero all housed inside of an undersized blockbuster.

As ever, Moretti creates a rich and incredibly detailed world, one where every character has a life that stretches far beyond their on-screen scenes.

At its best, John Lewis: Good Trouble is a portrait in courage that pairs the past with the present.

Paddleton is so busy not doing much, it blindsides you with its honestly-earned emotions.

The Winter Soldier is probably in the upper tier of Marvel pictures in terms of quality, but ultimately proves too muddled and frantic to match the heights of "The Avengers."

Lovely to look at, charmingly played throughout, and with a sense of fun that is more playful than subversive, The Brand New Testament is a bouncy treat: not so much heresy as whimsy, with a smooth matte finish and a mischievous grin.

By the time Jarecki is done with Elvis, the lanky, and projects-raised, rockabilly kid just one generation removed from sharecroppers has been cast as everything from an opportunist and grasping capitalist to addled addict to just plain sucker. If he ever was the King, the movie suggests, it’s long past time to retire the crown.

For a movie about the inequities inherent in both parent/surrogate relationships and expecting father/expecting mother relationships, the stakes hover surprisingly low in the plot stratosphere.

It’s an interesting hybrid of the relationship movie, mumbly indie and dark murder film, and the combination works here, for the most part.

This is a film that should, at the very least, make one appreciate the all-encompassing breadth of cinema, and, at most, provoke deeper thought of transcendental existence in correlation with nature and The Idea of Man.

Post Tenebras Lux is certainly unique, but Reygadas is often intensely more interested in provoking his audience than actually fleshing out his heady ideas.

Somewhere You Feel Free certainly captures the spirit of the time, the sadness, the warm-heartedness, and the creative openness, but one could easily argue it doesn’t really add that much substantive value, beyond some of the making-of stories and what’s already there in the poignant grooves of the music.

Mortensen is playing with iconography here, so it’s less about that destination than the journey — and he finds the right, delicate, evocative note to conclude on and holds it exactly as long as he should. “The Dead Don’t Hurt” isn’t your typical revenge Western, but audiences willing to stick with it will find a picture rendered with grace, patience, and artistry.

Meet the Patels is a fascinating window into the cultural practice of arranged marriages through a contemporary lens and anyone who’s been through the trials and tribulations of dating (or parenting those who are) can relate.

Hirsh Bordo’s first film isn’t ambitious in its style or structure, but it is entirely effective at communicating its encouraging message to the audience.