Rebuilding Paradise reminds us that even after a razing, life will return and grow from under the ashes of destruction.

Tel Aviv on Fire is a summer gem unlike any other you will see this year–an invitation to laugh at a world in decline.

Sidney functions as a loving memorial to the pioneering Black movie star who passed earlier this year, but it never suffices as more than a tepid first draft of his life. And it is never as groundbreaking as Poitier’s best work.

Bloated at nearly 140 minutes with Cooper clearly miscast in the lead, it struggles to maintain urgency. Dreary and overly saturated with a CGI patina, this new take on Nightmare Alley adds more gore and f-bombs to the source material but ultimately remains emotionally inert and unclear exactly what it wants to say about these characters and the world they inhabit.

The film is very, very funny, consistently.

For all the dicks of varying turgidity on proud display, it’s the intimations of true insecurities that leave these characters most nakedly exposed.

With well-staged action, good character work, and believable progressions from the previous installment, The Quake is the sequel that fans of “The Wave” deserve.

Sisters never carries any feeling that De Palma is showing off or flexing his cinematic chops because he can, or is above the material. The film is utterly transfixing because it plays its schlock straight, and paired with Hermann’s hair-raising throwback score, the effect is giddy.

Wuthering Heights is a model of how to bring a classic novel kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century.

The film's own spin toward a liberal audience means it chokes into ineffectuality when it tries to take a less ironic and more active stance on society's biggest current white whale, because the persuasive sermon it preaches, it preaches exclusively to the choir.

This isn’t an overly sentimental story; those expecting the emotional swells of other British fare like “Pride” and “Kinky Boots” should adjust their expectations. The Lady in the Van is a more buttoned-up narrative, but it’s no less engaging thanks to Smith, Jennings, and Bennett’s script.

Beavis and Butt-Head Do the Universe maintains and respects the legacy of the classic MTV show. It hits all the same beats, delivers what people will be looking for, and smoothly weaves in social and cultural references from the 90s and today without feeling ham-fisted or forced. It’s hard to say whether this feature will win them any new fans because, as enjoyable as it is, it’s not their finest hour (and 40 minutes).

The combination of Thompson’s sharp delivery and Kaling’s commercially friendly script make the film’s charms hard to resist.

This whoopie cushion of a film raises the concept of the lowest common denominator up to the highest highs of esoteric tastes and in doing so, gets closer to the essence of artistry than all of its self-important, straight-faced forebears.

Whether you’re a fan of her music or not — and for as many die-hard fans as there are, there’s plenty of dissenters — it’s fascinating to watch a singer come into her own, establishing her still-forming identity in a rapidly shifting industry. Hopefully, Cutler will stick around, watch the development and, see what more can emerge in the future.

[Kreutzer] might have served Gentle Monster better by narrowing her focus to a pure character study. But one hardly has to squint to find those elements in the film. They’re present every time Kreutzer trains the camera on Seydoux and lets her demonstrate why she’s among cinema’s finest working actresses.

1922 is a ghastly slow burner, not the kind where nothing happens until the last ten minutes, but rather the kind that layers minor incident upon minor incident until they tally up to something major.

To run the fool’s errand of divorcing the film from a political context and examine it merely qualitatively, Joe Mantello’s starry-eyed stab at the material is thrilling, an exciting cobbling together of consummate performers delivering acid dipped quips and making the Greenwich Village apartment the film is set in a both dramatically and cinematically elastic playground.

This debut marks a bright future for Vives and is an excellent entry in the romantic comedy format that doesn’t lose sight of who its heroine is the moment she falls for someone.

The disposability of the people who stand in the way of the mercenaries feels at odds with the film’s core ideas about the value of life. Perhaps this is a fitting encapsulation of “The Old Guard” itself. Situated at the crossroads of two different styles and ideologies, the film takes the less-trodden path – though not without a few detours into conventionality.

The odd rhythm of very fast and slick followed by very slow and arty is difficult to settle into, and the film ultimately frustrates, willfully obscuring the apparatus of what appears at first to be a promising film noir framework.

Gellar and Goldfine manage the tone expertly, inserting little jolts of humor to keep things from getting too reverent.

Norwegian filmmaker Emilie Blichfeldt’s horror dramedy is largely entertaining on its own terms, even for viewers unwilling to dig deeper. Its modernist meta-textual caustic sting? You can take it or leave it. But it will richly reward those in tune with Blichfeldt’s gleeful bastardization of fairytale tropes.

Faults is a strangely funny, often eerie accomplishment, and it’s a testament to why people like us tend to call first features like this “promising.”

Berardini’s film follows a narrative trajectory impressive in any documentary, let alone one by a rookie filmmaker. The debut effort is commendable, both for its handling of a complex issue, as well as for its engagement factor.

In finding humor, pathos, and beauty in such a complicated subject matter, Ohs and company deliver a sunbaked ghost story that should stand the test of time.

Stanley ratchets up the off-kilter humor while playing down the deep melancholy present in the short story’s original text. This observation could be seen as a knock on the director’s approach, but for audiences going in with zero expectations beyond a good time, the interlaced humor feels like nothing more than playing to Cage’s unique strengths.

By keeping the humor rooted in the performances and only letting sentimentality creep in when necessary, Nelson and Schwartz have crafted a film that feels refreshing, unique, and emotional.

The cinematic trickery on display – lurid dissolves, off-kilter juxtapositions, and bizarre dance numbers bouncing around Chloe’s brittle mindscape – compensates for the skin-deep thematics, and keep the rhythm of the film popping.

This isn’t the kind of genre piece that everyone will warm to. Some might find the subject matter too bleak; others might wish it were pulpier. But on the whole, Berlin Syndrome is incredibly effective, while offering a perspective that these kinds of films usually lack. It gets to know the innocent, while rendering the evil banal.

What keeps the film mostly on track is its proudly confrontational nature, quick-witted dialogue, and performances to match. But it’s a dark, sobering film too—the corruption, dishonesty and immoral law enforcement practices employed to screw over expendable brown and black people is depressingly distressing and it’s here where “The Day Shall Come” has trouble sealing the deal on its uncomfortable remit of awkward laughs and somber realities.

As an perceptive story about desireability, our collective value as people or romantic partners, what we’re worth, what we’re willing to compromise for happiness and love and how the courtship market makes us treat one another as casual, often throw-away commodities, it’s an insightful, if imperfect, piece worthy of your affections.

At its best, a welcome addition to the increasing number of contemporary Native American stories seen in the films such as “Songs My Brother Told Me,” “Wild Indian” and FX’s “Reservation Dogs.” At worst, it’s a disjointed narrative that sadly overstays its welcome.

The Phoenician Scheme, for all its involved branches, never really comes together deeply or meaningfully. Still, it remains charming and entertaining nonetheless.

Trier’s sensibility for the dynamics of family, for the depiction of nebulous memory, and for the detail of life (the film’s full of beautiful, complex scenes), means that I’m already eager to take a second look and see what else there is to unpack.

Cocote is an entirely different beast—a challenging watch that swings from the avant-garde to an ethnographic model of filmmaking.

The true drama in the admissions scandal is not the ringleader or the celebrities and hedge-fund magnates who hired him but what this Hunger Games scenario means for all the children whose parents cannot afford his services.

Above all, Tigerland pays respects to that awe-inspiring creature at its core.

The film does possess ample charms and insights, though admittedly, they do take quite a long time to coalesce.

Directors Kramer, Miller and Newberger prefer embellishment, allowing personal stories about Downey to fuel animated re-enactments that trivialize rather than penetrate.

Perhaps the biggest achievement of The Threesome is how it manages to remain real, grounded and tender but still succeeds in finding opportune moments of comedy in an undoubtedly absurd situation.

Ultimately, the biggest disappointment with “Relay” isn’t the big twist, you see that coming a mile away. The issue is the execution of everything thereafter is almost comical.

Gods Of Mexico is a film less interested in breaking down its conceptual framework — or even pushing forward a fully realized thesis — than it is about creating a structured cinematic experience.

With its politically charged themes of oppression and the genocide of Native Americans, and the play on how history has been presented in the past, Mohawk is a fascinating and engaging tale of bloody revenge.

The devastatingly bleak story of Handling the Undead is a wrenching but beautiful exploration of grief and human connection in the face of something horrific.

Tipping’s bold and meditative drama with its reflective moods and streetwise grime has delivered one of the best feature-length debuts of 2016 and one of the best films of the year, period.

In Chow’s hands, the lens becomes an elastic guidance tool for comic energy: fixate on a single image, pull back the band, let go, and snap, his story and characters launch forward in a blur of madcap amusement.

The latest from the prolific helmer is not so much slight as is it light, charming and funny by equal turns, with a pretty terrific performance by Huppert who seems to be having a lot of fun with the part(s).

In noir, nobody is certified as who they claim to be. Boyle magnifies that aspect with a lean and gripping thriller about isolation, strangers, and the consequences of fame that satisfies despite some minor plot bumps.

It’s a heartfelt and undoubtedly well-meaning film, attempting a character study of a woman of an age and lifestyle that makes her an unusual and therefore unusually worthy subject. But Angelique’s overriding characteristic is that she is incapable of fundamental change which makes her at best a frustrating protagonist for this drama.

A moving movie that tries too hard to please and thus never truly satisfies.

Although there is much to admire on a technical and craft level, the absence of storytelling innovation gives Old Henry the sleepiness of a familiar lullaby or nursery rhyme.

While the entire cast is superb, it’s the rich performances from Watson and Mescal who elevate the material beyond that aforementioned air of familiarity.

Censor is an impressive, visually-stunning, deeply disturbing debut from Bailey-Bond and a showcase for Algar, who gives a truly spectacular performance.

Coppola's screenplay neatly restructures Franco's source material into a deceptively tight narrative, and mostly proves to be raw, authentic and often very funny.

While Lion isn’t the kind of drama that demands risky storytelling, it is one that has within it a whole world of emotional topography that is disappointingly scrolled over instead of mapped out.

What makes Amour Fou a fascinating, if at times frustratingly idle experience, is that it seems to be saying so much with its upfront style, injections of black humor, and focus on stifled feminine disposition, yet still feels disappointingly unresponsive when mulling it over in your head.

Where Akhavan succeeds is whenever she has the kids doing things teenagers would be doing.

Fletcher’s inventive reimagining of several musical numbers, in particular, blends striking visuals and affecting storytelling.

It's a deeply humane and moving look at a complex issue that at the very least demands that a conversation begins not about short term fixes, but long term solutions.

As a filmic examination of an extraordinary mind, it doesn't breathe much life into the frame.

Even if The Little Hours never becomes a knee-slapper, it’s consistently entertaining…kind of like a laid-back, stretched-out Monty Python sketch.

Though the delightful ensemble allows this slight comedy to bob along, it’s Henry who steers this ship into gentle waters. He imbues Charles’ substantial reawakening with great tenderness.

The movie’s practical and special effects are a rogues’ gallery of gougings, stabbings, shavings, and scalpings; those who like to have their stomachs turned will find much to cheer about. But is it actually scary – suspenseful, tense, trafficking in more than the cheap shock of a jump scare or vivid effect? Not really, no.

Even with these minor complaints, it’s hard to deny that It is anything but a triumph. The craftsmanship is impeccable, the performances incredibly strong..., and the fidelity to the source material, in spirit more than specificity, is admirable and appreciated. Had the story given even more time to breathe, it would have been one of the greatest Stephen King adaptations ever. As it stands, it’s simply a very good one.

Digging For Fire is low-lit and pitched in a minor key, a quiet meditation on compromise, individuality, the loss of identity within a marriage, and the aftermath of disorientation that comes with having children and losing touch with your former life.

Clumsy and erratic, though possessed of an undeniable bounding and puppy-like energy, How to Build a Girl is a star vehicle for Feldstein that, while it often does not do its star justice, also knows when to just stay out of her way.

The fact Pusić is able to pull off such complicated visual effects with her actors in scene after scene while keeping her chosen tone is extraordinary for a young director (not to mention the confines of a relatively independent film budget). This sort of world building would absolutely falter in the wrong hands.

As much as Charli is the star of this documentary, her fans are, too, and Alone Together manifests as both a wild ride and a soothing balm—as long as you don’t think too hard about the labor ethics at the center of it.

Slightly disappointing denouement aside, The Vigil is an effective, stripped-down exercise in pure terror, and a strong argument as any for a new wave of Jewish Horror.

From a procedural perspective, the film is an insightful look into the life of a Secretary Of Defense, but as an exploration into how the war in Iraq was allowed to happen, it’s much, much less satisfying

I Am Greta may be a bit uneven, a little unsatisfying, and low on Climate Change context but it will stir the spirit and absolutely inspire your deep admiration for this devoted and steadfast teenager, and her commitment to real change and political accountability.

Silveira sets herself up for a balance between realism and aesthetics that she can’t quite navigate.

Similar to the cringeworthy performance art that wraps itself around the core of the film, This Is Not Berlin is emotionally hollow, more than a bit confused, and regrettably forgettable.

Bana is one of the producers of The Dry, and it’s not hard to see why he wanted to act the role, which is uniquely suited to his specific talents – his potent mixture of brusque physicality and barely bottled emotion. Connolly is a patient enough director to let us take in the pain this man holds in his face and the quiet power in his eyes.

From the outset, What Our Fathers Did doesn’t have much narrative thrust. The film makes it clear that it is more interested in the process than any end goal. But the process of what exactly is a question that gnaws unanswered for the first third of the documentary.

Blockers is the kind of movie that Hollywood typically gets wrong. They make it too crude or too wild or too inconsiderate. Thankfully, Blockers is an unexpected triumph, even if it’s not quite as great as it could’ve been.

La Grazia embodies much of the Sorrentino appeal, even if it registers in more of a minor key for the Italian auteur. The film is playful when it wants to be and pensive when it needs to be.

Green Book is an on-the-nose social commentary that is told with such craftsmanship, earnestness, and comedic expertise that you’re still excited to go along for the ride.

Unfortunately, Cailley’s conventional cinematic aesthetic is also often akin to a contemporary streaming movie (the first thirty minutes or seem like a television pilot) and while the visual effects are solid, there are few images that will stick with you hours after you’ve left the theater. What saves “The Animal Kingdom” is the genuine horror over this happening to anyone (Cailley gets that right, at least) and Kircher’s fantastic performance.

An unprecedented take on the holiday film, but not an entirely successful one.

The Mole Agent is a perfect film. From a technical and emotional viewpoint equally, The Mole Agent possesses no flaws. Yes, as with every documentary, manipulation is openly displayed and validity can always be questioned, but The Mole Agent dissuades any inkling of pessimism or negativity through its unabashed sincerity.

This is a sweeping, lived-in romance that is as resonant as it is precise.

Alps has proven Lanthimos to be one of the most fascinating filmmakers anywhere right now.

While we still recommend it to fans of the band, be warned that it might leave you wanting an encore.

Unfocused and unpolished, “Le Concours” might’ve been fared better if one of the prospective students picked up the camera instead.

Boy Erased has problems depicting the fear, intimidation and psychological trauma such programs can inflict on even the most willing of participants. But that’s likely because, at its core, the film isn’t really about the gay conversion experience.

An interesting if somewhat incomplete horror thriller with decent performances, “The Changeover” is nevertheless hampered by a script that doesn’t seem to know how to connect all its narrative dots.

The Matchmaker is at heart an unexpectedly complex film about love, but also an examination of Israel in flux, a country with one foot in the past and another in the future – a weight that may never fully vacate Israeli shoulders.

With the themes of this play not exactly subtle or delicate, particularly at the climax, it all becomes a bit grating -- inescapable in its heavy-handedness.

Although the majority of Beirut proves to be quite the task to watch, it’s still rather refreshing to witness Hamm continue to come into his own as a genuine A-list talent.

Featuring two exceptional lead performances from these two boys, first rate beauty-in-ugliness photography and an unusually extraordinary command of tone, Carbone’s picture skillfully articulates the inexpressible.

It’s still evidently the work of a very talented filmmaker and is certainly never bad, but it also never lives up to its potential. Barnard has a long career ahead of her, but Dark River seems destined to be remembered, years now, as a minor work in her filmography.

It's fascinating, warm and immensely watchable stuff, and fans of both Jackson and pop music in general will surely eat the film up.

An absorbing office saga and diverting dark comedy, Zero Motivation is a surprisingly insightful coming-of-age tale, utilizing the milieu of the military to look at desire, loneliness, identity, fitting in and many aspects of everyday complex female life.

By combining petty drama, deadpan humor, and the terror of human emotions, the filmmakers effortlessly straddle a liminal space between comedy and horror, never quite tipping their hand too far into either genre.

Malcolm Washington, Denzel’s youngest son, has his own secret weapons to assist him in his feature directorial debut. The first is a scintillatingly stellar performance from Danielle Deadwyler. The second is Washington’s impressive artistic vision which proves that a love of cinema truly does run in the family.

Multinational Alma (Sara Luna Zorić, excellent) is at the edge of womanhood, gazing into a fractured world that reflects — what else? — a fractured self. Displacement gives rise to the unhomely, the uncanny. Ena Sendijarević’s playful, delightful Take Me Somewhere Nice frames and articulates this spatial and psychological confusion, offering emotional distance against sharp material proximity.