Bobbi’s failures, goodbyes, successes and reconciliations are beguiling, often heartbreaking to witness, but ultimately, it’s the artist’s thrilling dedication to her craft that offers the most sublime state of grace.

The Boy Downstairs straddles a patchy line between comedy and drama with mixed results, but when all is said and done, the auspicious film acts like a mature consideration of the scariness of vulnerability and laying your heart on the line.

This is a gorgeously realized popcorn movie of the most satisfying, comforting, restorative kind: full as its heart is, it has a lot on its mind, yet you’d also quite like to curl up on its belly and doze in the sun.

Handsome is modest and mild-mannered, the type of comedy that likes to keep things content and mostly carefree.

Armed with commanding performances, striking cinematography and exceptionally well-calibrated direction, The Wall is a haunting, engrossing death march, one that’s not entirely original but also not easy to shake.

Far from being a perfect film and wearing its shortcomings with confidence, Flames is a film very worthy of curiosity.

While the film never reaches the kind of emotional peaks of James’ best work like “Hoop Dreams” or “The Interrupters,” Abacus: Small Enough To Jail is no less compelling. And it serves a very important reminder, particularly at a time when more than ever, it seems banks are putting profit in front of people.

The film is very, very funny, consistently.

This is an exquisitely shot suburban tale of trauma, stretching the “show-don’t-tell” golden rule of filmmaking to the furthest reaches.

Ritchie’s ‘King Arthur’ is a pleasing big budget spectacle, oddly aligned to the filmmaker’s thematic interests and startlingly compatible with his signature razzle-dazzle style. In fact, the soggiest moments in the movie are the ones that adhere the closest to that ambitious multi-film strategy, lessening the fun, and emptying its impact.

Somehow, Scott manages to balance it all: meditations on being made in god’s own image, the fan service of “Alien Origins: Xenomorphs,” and feminist agency. Balance doesn’t necessarily mean execution though. There’s friction with all these ideas fighting for airtime.

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.

These are strong performances, committed to the truth of the scenario however grim that might be but Young’s talents extend beyond that. Having also written the script, he clearly designed this film to allow him to show off some impressive, expressive visual storytelling.

The filmmakers squander a boundlessly fascinating figure in service of yet another paint-by-numbers info-doc with all the dramatic heft of a book report.

The characters in The Lovers and the problems they face and struggle with feel entirely authentic, as does the magnetic chemistry between the leads.

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.

Ultimately, this rueful picture of Heath Ledger is a loving celebration of a passionate spirit and a tribute fittingly seen through the eyes of the artist himself.

Excepting a strangely off-key final scene, A Gray State is a compelling, highly dramatic piece of documentary filmmaking.

Bafflingly witless, The Clapper is an oblivious non-starter with myriad deficiencies. Artless and clueless at every turn, writer/director Dito Montiel’s inane movie is a one-note half-gag somehow stretched into a painful 90-minute movie.

Flower is hilarious one moment, tender the next and takes some surprising turns. And it certainly doesn’t hurt to have a dynamic lead who steadily navigates the twists with an emotional authenticity that keeps the movie on its bumpy track.

One Week And A Day is at times a genuinely funny diversion amongst the Critic’s Week selection. However, a sentimental streak and a series of precocious narrative turns diminish the impact of the film.

Brydon and Coogan are the same gifted improvisers they’ve always been, shooting the breeze until it sweeps them into some absurd playacted scenario.

A humanist narrative about family, faith, and grief, ‘Acreage’ is an intimate film with few outsized dramatic moments, but as anchored by Amy Ryan’s mannered yet commanding performance—her finest in years—this lovely little story sensitively absorbs.

The broad-spectrum approach of LA 92 resists easy answers while still holding a strong editorial viewpoint about the overlapping institutional defects that led to the riots.

The Circle is a movie that has all the appearances of working – a solid director, great cast and impressive pedigree – but constantly throws errors. It’s a frustrating viewing experience with little surprise or delight to be found.

How many times have you read that it’s really hard to duplicate the success of the first film in a sequel? Probably more than you can remember. Well, here’s a newsflash: Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 2 pulls that feat off with only a little strain and a belly of genuine emotion.

It goes without saying that Cranston has a lot to carry on his shoulders and he does an admirable job. It’s hard not to laugh every so often at one of Wakefield’s snide remarks and that’s effectively because of how Cranston sells it. But even this accomplished actor can’t make you feel any sympathy for a character whose actions defy convention in the most unimaginative ways.

Its multiple charms are so sly, the performances so perfectly unflashy, you’ll likely be surprised at how affecting it becomes in its final stages.

It’s straightforward when it should be subversive and only owns up to its silliness when it’s too late.

What’s interesting is watching the way that Lin has to maneuver in and out of the limitations that the franchise has established, while attempting to push it into new territory.

This newest Sandler vehicle is inspired and warm-hearted where his other recent movies are lazy and soulless. Does that make it a winning success? Hell no, but it’s good to see Sandler put his heart into his work again.

Gifted means well, but it’s nonetheless a formulaic movie, missing the wit and charm needed to make this kind of picture add up to something truly special.

Perhaps the array of characters read better on the page, but it all feels slight in execution, particularly when half of the running time is spent on Tommy’s past and what unfolded between himself and Shelley. Combine all that with a particularly lackluster sense of urgency and pacing, and you have film that offers few reasons for investment.

The Fate of the Furious is almost impossible not to like. It achieves exactly what it sets out to do, successfully lighting up the brain’s pleasure centers at each opportunity with a variety of tools in its arsenal.

The Ticket exists better as a parable than as a true-to-life drama.

Arnow sheds any trappings of fiction, presenting herself, her filmmaking, her relationships and her sex life in an at times shockingly frank manner. It’s refreshing to see a filmmaker embrace this honesty with such gusto (which, like life, is often painful or awkward to experience).

Perhaps the best that can be said of Salt and Fire is that its flaws are wholly Herzog’s. Those flaws are deep. But so is the man responsible for them.

This is, ultimately, a slow-burning story that requires commitment and focus from the viewers, but rewards them with characters that are properly constructed and reactions that are comprehensible once we learn more about each person, their relationships to one another and to the community.

Chastain is as good as ever, but it’s a shame that such a gripping, tender, and vulnerable performance is lost in a period drama as flat as this one.

Gay’s picture proves once again that one can construct a comedy out of such material, as long as one respects the subject matter and refrains from being gimmicky in order to feel edgy and cool.

By the Time It Gets Dark jumps at first into an examination of Thailand’s repressed history of political violence and dictatorial control. But that initial pencil sketch of a thesis is soon shuffled away in favor of several other less-interesting story threads which add up to much less than the sum of their parts.

Visually dazzling, but dispassionate and hollow, the film often looks impressive, with some incredible action sequences to boot, but otherwise keeps the viewer at a considerable distance.

Folk Hero & Funny Guy is an amiable road movie powered by great music. But it’s much more than just that, with deeply felt, lived in emotions capturing the ups and downs of longterm friendships, the nervous spark of a new attraction, and the power of making amends.

The Art Life is more concerned with the art rather than the life of Lynch, and this is the only true weakness of the doc. While informative to a certain degree, there’s always a sense that something is missing here. That there’s more to Lynch than the film cares to explore.

All This Panic doesn’t offer any revolutionary approaches to this type of intimate documentary, and the subject matter might be too broad for some, but it makes up for its lack of originality with heart and genuine emotion.

Considering how much screen time they share together, Lister-Jones and Pally need to have fantastic chemistry to keep the audience rooting for Anna and Ben and, luckily, they have more than enough.

It isn’t just one of the best debut films of the year, but one of the year’s best films, period.

It’s a remarkable picture of inbound focus and outbound ambitions.

Never quite fun enough for kids or teens, but also unlikely to appeal to loyal fans, Power Rangers feels like a film that’s not quite finished morphing into its true form.

It is a hard film to recommend, and only more dedicated and patient audiences may find themselves satisfied overall.

Movies today are too long and overstuffed; Life is lean, mean, and terrifying. It doesn’t have much to say beyond “hold up, maybe we shouldn’t poke around uncharted terrain so much,” but with actors this committed, set pieces this exciting, and direction this confident, it doesn’t really matter.

Betting on Zero takes a matter-of-fact approach to its material, but it makes a convincing and sometimes emotional argument against Herbalife.

The film doesn’t feel like a fiction. Instead, it plays like one of those great stories you hear late night over beers, and marvel, thinking, “That’s so wild it can’t be true… But I hope it its.”

Even though the plot loops in police corruption, murder, revenge, and blackmail, it’s pace never manages more than a sleepwalk shamble.

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

When even momentary flourishes of action this good remind us how poorly filmed and choreographed most modern action films are, it is hard not to recommend Atomic Blonde on that basis alone.

The toughest thing about watching ‘Giants’ is the fear of inevitable, the fear that all of this could easily come crashing down, with Youssef displaying a thorough lack of respect for a government he’s long lost faith in, via a program that will certainly violate the country’s censorship laws.

If The Disaster Artist does anything, it will likely inspire folks to seek out The Room. Not only would that make Tommy very happy, but it will make them want to watch Franco’s Tommy and further appreciate what a brilliant job he did in recreating the experience for its fans.

Had we been able to witness character growth, perhaps this story would have been more successful at creating emotional connections and gripping sequences. The almost automatic nature with which family secrets are revealed, however, result in a quickly forgettable and emotionally empty experience.

Rat Film doesn’t really make an impassioned political statement. Instead, Anthony assembles striking, allusive pictures and sounds into a one-of-a-kind experience, meant to provoke thought.

A film that, while not especially pronounced in its structure or technical achievements, is nonetheless timely and devastating.

The concept of the car chase suffered in limbo for too long with inexperienced directors too often cutting corners instead of respecting why films like “The French Connection,” “Bullitt” and “Ronin” are still held in high regard today. Like all great students, Wright tips his hat to the teachers and refuses to phone in the camerawork on his stunts.

Those impatient with Malick’s cyclical fixations will easily find themselves worn out by Song To Song especially in the enervating third act that essentially repeats the entire movie and its theme exhaustingly.

Anchored by a quartet of equally strong and understated performances by Hemingway, Stanfield, Wisdom, and Dillon, Live Cargo proves itself to be a singularly artful film of great emotional heft.

When Reinhardt’s fingers aren’t dancing across guitar strings, it has all the vitality of an educational film shown by a substitute teacher. It comes alive in those fleeting moments, but they are too infrequent to keep audiences engaged.

Sanga’s roundabout storytelling and sensitive exploration of contemporary issues around sexual identity and consent makes First Girl I Loved a sophisticated and complex teenage coming of age story. It’s Gelula’s performance that brings the emotional weight necessary to drive the story forward.

In a way it’s a shame that film builds backwards, because while it adds layers of tricksy narrative intrigue, that trajectory somewhat simplifies the thematic texture as the movie wears on.

It certainly succeeds in being a joyous, humane look at the role that school, education, and, most importantly, teachers have in the lives of such malleable minds.

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.

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.

Ultimately Beauty And The Beast feels like a cynical rehash seemingly created just to make a fiscal year sound promising to shareholders. This is a product that’s more manufactured than inspired.

In his first narrative feature in 10 years, Blitz doesn’t find the comfortable balance between self-conscious weirdness and overpowering emotional resonance seen throughout his other, better works. It’s not an outright disaster, but it’s not the shining success it should’ve been.

It also cannot be overstated what an asset [John C.] Reilly is. The moment he shows up, the movie feels enlivened and energized; his mere presence adds a tremendous amount of oddball charm and humor.

Throughout the documentary, infectious joy leaps off the screen with the same energy the color-guard teams display.

Movies with this serious a message about race are rarely fun to watch, but Peele has a perfect handle on tone, knowing just when to lean toward menacing, eerie or sharply funny and when to tip things in another direction.

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.

Somehow one of the effects of our current state of topsy-turviness has been to bring us closer into alignment with Kaurismäki’s skewed vision; if his movies are all, in their way, like pictures hanging crooked on a wall, with The Other Side of Hope we don’t have to tilt our heads anymore: the whole house has moved around us.

There is an energy to The Party, and a kind of rejuvenating bouncy glee that we haven’t seen from Potter in a long time. And after “Ginger and Rosa,” a film that felt better directed than it was written, being undermined by some very stilted dialogue, the fact the Potter also wrote the screenplay here comes as another pleasant surprise.

This is a film that glories in juxtaposition, as exchanges of bestial ferocity hiss back and forth in an excruciatingly elegant destination restaurant, and as poisonously feral barbs are traded across a table laden with elaborately effete hors d’oeuvres.

A movie with the bleakest vision of Wolverine yet, but also hands down the best treatment the character has received on the big screen in the fifteen plus years Jackman has inhabited the role.

whether because of its personal nature, its occasional ferocity, its unusually dark undercurrents, its audacious defiance of expectation and explanation or Kim Min-hee’s essential performance, On The Beach At Night Alone feels like it will be exceptional even for longtime diehard Hong fans.

The superb Vega’s steady, liquid, fathomless gaze is so direct that we come to understand that behind it, behind the barricade of defenses she’s built up against an unfriendly world, she is no enigma at all: she is completely known to herself.

Predictable and overdone, it’s yet another unremarkable studio comedy that wobbles on its before getting knocked out.

Other than the enjoyably silly banter between Damon and Pascal, there are few moments that endear you to anyone on screen. The movie’s tone veers from bombastic to goofy with speed but little grace.

Lovesong is carried by the actors’ chemistry and body language.

Both Brent and Gervais give this “one last push” all the love, commitment, determination and fool-hearted dedication they can muster, and it’s good that at least one can come out on top even while the other clings to the bottom.

Pulseless, perfunctory and persistently watering down its kookier instincts, Fifty Shades Darker pales in comparison to the first. You might as well call it Fifty Shades Duller.

For all its flaws, or rather for all the magnitude of its one massive flaw, it is more sincere than arch, and more earnest, certainly in its desire to get its makers onto the radar, than glib.

13 Minutes is an elegant, expensive-looking, respectful history lesson that finds just enough interesting texture in terms of the religious, social, moral, and personal circumstances that led to the creation of this rogue ideologue, to save it from becoming dry.

A Cure For Wellness is an exercise in watching a film continually stifle itself at its most compelling moments.

John Wick: Chapter 2 doesn’t mess with a good thing, expanding the setting as sequels are obligated to do, while firmly sticking to the foundations of what makes the action series such pure popcorn pleasure.

Lord knows the superhero genre could use some fun poked at it and we were psyched to see the film, but while there’s some fun to be had, it can’t help but feel like a missed opportunity.

It’s maybe Franco’s best-crafted film to date, and also maybe his dullest.

This is a saccharine science fiction romance that doesn’t actually concern itself with science fiction or romance; instead, it’s the equivalent of astronaut ice cream, lacking in substance and crumbling to bits at the slightest pressure.

The film might not have quite learned how to communicate visually rather than verbally, but the words are enticing ones and Sean Price Williams‘ serene, airy cinematography is fluid and varied enough that it never feels stagebound.

Directed by Timo Tjahjanto and Kimo Stamboel aka The Mo Brothers, with a script by the former, what they lack in original or even compelling drama in Headshot, they make up for with the film’s multiple action scenes.

Entertaining though it is in parts, it can’t really be said to mark any particular growth for McDonagh as a filmmaker, being both less angry and more cynical that the brooding "Calvary" and consequently less memorable and relevant too.

At no point in Patti Cake$ is there ever a hint that Macdonald is unable to legitimately rap. She’s simply a revelation.