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.

Transition works as both a personal accounting of Bryon’s journey and a fascinating exploration of how gender is treated within conservative societies. That the film can account for both, drawing out the parallels, schisms, and nuances that exist within a society that strongly believes in a gender binary, is something of a minor miracle.

To make it in show business, Carol Doda needed to show her business. These are almost exact words from the mouth of the woman herself, another example of her wit, appeal, and the type of trailblazer the world sadly lost before she got her proper due.

The frustration of watching Drew’s journey unfold makes for a unique viewing experience, and whatever it is he seeks in life, I hope he one day finds it.

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.

The Greatest Hits is way worse than just a sophomore slump, more accurately, a long-the-works opus that should have just stayed in the vaults.

Though the structure of the vignettes can grow repetitive as the film moves along to a scene nearly identical to the one that came before, Terrestrial Verses never falters in challenging traditional notions while simultaneously providing a glimmer of hope.

Yes, the film is about a game show in the late-’90s that went to cruel levels in the name of entertainment, but The Contestant truly showcases the power of human resilience.

It’s all largely an ugly, vulgar, vacuous time that’s disposable and never as amusing as it clearly thinks it is.

There is a kernel of an idea in Cano and Craig’s screenplay that’s worth exploring. The movie feels like it could or should be great, but it took a wrong turn somewhere on that dark road.

The Idea of You is an example of the romance novel adaptation done right, an outstanding balance of chemistry and joke density that never talks down to its audience.

As undercooked as ‘Jacqueline’ can be, the movie oddly comes to life at the end with its themes of pointlessness and God laughing at your plans finally coming full circle.

As outlandish as Timestalker is, Lowe’s film holds its idea together well with style, wit, resourceful imagination, great lovelorn music, the sincerity behind heartbreak and deep yearning, and hilarious, sharp laughs to boot.

Desert Road is an admirably ambitious movie, but it just never lands and is too sparse and spare to work.

Civil War enflames our discomfort by bringing the conflict to our own backyard.

The Fall Guy is a wonderful movie about love and collaboration mashed up with an aggressively fine summer thriller.

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.

Copa 71 may be just another documentary, but in telling the story of the 1971 Women’s World Cup, it is absolutely a success.

The heroine of the film may not be in distress, but oh boy, is this movie in desperate need of saving.

For kids, the film is watchable because Black still finds ways to boost the movie with genuine charisma through his vocal talents alone (so much so you wonder why he isn’t working more in live action) and, for adults, something is reassuring in the glorious exasperation that accompanies everyone of Hoffman’s line readings. Still, it all feels a little too by the book.

Akin’s film draws connections to suggest that maybe through these crossings, we begin to understand each other.

It’s feel-good at its best, and in this day and age, is anything more even necessary?

First Time Female Director is a tremendous disappointment because Peretti is such a gifted performer; it’s understandable to go in pulling for her (this viewer certainly did), but those layers of goodwill just peel away as scene after scene simply does not work. Too much of what she’s assembled is just half-hearted cringe comedy—much of it without the comedy half of the equation.

With Another End, Messina unites one of the most gifted actors of the last two decades with one of the most gifted of the last two years to venture into one of the most fertile territories of any creative practice, the questioning of life and death, body and soul, presence and absence. It is almost unbelievable to see it result in an apathetic exercise of low-fi sci-fi that drags its way toward an eye-rollingly predictable twist.

There’s great craft, impressive creature design, a lugubrious, eventually-soaring score by Max Richter, an excellent Paul Dano nailing the childlike tenor of his inquisitive creature, and low-key Adam Sandler sitting in the pocket, enjoying the chill ease of never overdoing it.

Immense, remarkably captivating, imposing, and right on the edge of overblown, filmmaker Denis Villeneuve’s “Dune: Part Two” is a spectacular blockbuster epic in the grandest sense of the tradition.

It’s a bit difficult to find your footing in the first half-hour of “Concrete Valley,” and it’s arguable that in addition to starting too shapeless, the film ends too shaped. But niggles about calibration aside, the on-the-nose ending is a gut punch.

Briones and Mara are perfect dance partners in this waltz between reality and possibility, stark opposites and doomed lovers united by a hope they know to be foolish.

In this deliberately stunted teasing of information, Mielants builds a muted drama that cleverly harnesses horror tropes to paint a picture of what happens within the convent’s walls.

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.

Not only is Madame Web a mess of a movie it doesn’t even qualify as a “it’s so bad it’s good” moment of escapist entertainment. It suffers from a much worse fate: it’s utterly forgettable.

While Out of Darkness is by no means bad, it’s far from the iconic status Cumming presumably hoped to achieve.

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.

Argylle proves hollow from the inside out.

For decades, cryonics were believed to be the key to immortality, with mind transfer pioneers such as Ray Kurzweil eventually leading the charge in a different direction, but as ChatGPT becomes as commonplace as a text message and the path to computer-based divinity continues to shorten at a shocking rate, films such as this become even more vital.

Sujo may not be a movie with which everyone will connect or find a wealth of relatable aspects, but the quality on display is enough to warrant a view.

Dìdi is the definition of a crowd pleaser. This is a movie that will fill your heart with joy, love, and nostalgia (even if you grew up before Paramore or the early days of Facebook). And for Sean Wang, it’s a film that proves he’s capable of crafting a beautiful, funny, and at times, heartbreaking drama.

While bereft of the lurid pleasures that have propelled Saltburn to its ubiquitous social media popularity, Brief History Of A Family is nevertheless a smart and engaging debut feature, and preferable since it has something of value to communicate to audiences.

It’s a compelling, lovely little journey about friends reconnecting and rediscovering each other in a portrait that’s tender, humorous, considerate, and more than deserving of your attention and care.

This is far more than just a film.

Content to tell just one story despite a far more interesting one just under the surface, Maing and Story’s honesty and remove from the filmmaking process has produced an unvarnished, raw document that offers up a slice of history: warts and all.

On the one hand, director Silje Evensmo Jacobsen should be commended for adhering to the verité sensibilities of the project, as “Wilderness” never comes across as curated or guided. Yet this does keep the doc from probing into the more interesting questions and considerations that sit just under the surface here, such as the fundamental “why” of all of this.

It turns out this endeavor is a manic mix of two different movies in one and the second barely redeems it enough to make you stick around for the end credits.

Ito’s presence propels the film; her passion, vulnerability, and resilient strength are the film’s most compelling components, as they should be, and it’s hoped that the closure she’s pursued finally found its way to her.

This is far from the sort of cinematic experience one revisits time and time again, and it’s clear that’s not the intention; one viewing is all it takes to leave a lasting impression, like the simple memory of a young girl dancing with her dad.

Porcelain War tries its best to turn attention toward a trio of artists as they attempt to find some equilibrium between the art they love and the battle at hand.

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.

Lacorazza Samudio has pulled off a splendid feature directorial debut. Inspired by events in her own life and a sparse 90 minutes, the screenplay is layered but tight. The emotional beats are purposeful and not forced. There is a nuance and authenticity to the entire endeavor that is genuinely refreshing.

The film captures the what of Kneecap but also the why, which makes all the difference.

El Moudir, at long last, demands a reckoning, that will uncover old wounds, but also provide closure.

Until the final shot, the Zellner Brothers leave unclear whether all of their oddball observations are building to a grand statement about humanity or a punchline. Sasquatch Sunset can accommodate readings of both.

Hammel has talent and something to say that’s worth paying attention to. There’s a spark of something there, eventually. It’s a little messy, but it’s definitely there. It also just might take a while before you want to hear it.

If Suncoast ultimately lacks major insights, it is hard to argue that it at least combats its slenderness with a poignant sense of empathy and compassion for draining emotional hardships.

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.

The Outrun begins and ends with Ronan. There are very few moments in the movie where she isn’t on screen, and to say she’s up for the challenge is an understatement. It’s a very strong performance and, somewhat impressively, not as showy as you might expect given the material.

It’s a sublime little travelogue, deceptively simple, engaging, and thoughtful.

As the pieces of Ghostlight continue to unfold, it becomes increasingly clear what a smart and moving narrative O’Sullivan has put together.

Serves as little more than an exercise in striking photography mixed with a series of vignettes that’s as slice of life as one’s likely to find.

Make no mistake, Exhibiting Forgiveness can be painful but rewardingly so; it’s complex, unresolved ending all the more honest and true.

The third act often feels more like a cinematic exercise than a filmmaker who has something to say.

Ultimately, Between The Temples is achingly, evenly deceptively sweet and from the heart. It’s a dexterously comic but moving examination of a life interrupted, seemingly demolished, and a life of unfulfilled dreams, clashing, colliding, and perhaps finding a tender togetherness that suggests second chances and no term limits on coming of age

Ultimately, not only has Park crafted an often hilarious and entertaining coming-of-age movie, but a surprise tearjerker.

As the film progresses, the decoding moves beyond just camera positioning and movement. Soderbergh understands that the real value in following a strict set of rules is breaking them to startling effect.

While Eisenberg is excellent on screen, especially during a dinner scene when he unloads his concerns over David to his fellow tourists, it’s Culkin who, rightfully, steals the film.

The rabble-rousing enthusiasm of the enterprise carries it throughout, allowing the raucous vibes to paper over some thin characterization. The script, which is often content to remain skin-deep, just does not pack the same muscle as the directorial verve.

The American Society of Magical Negroes is a gracious work that both shows and critiques the very nature of humility.

Margolin’s directorial debut is often super entertaining with just enough style and patience to avoid the trappings of a broad, studio endeavor. It also has a ton to say about senior autonomy, aging, ageism (two very different things), and the bonds between family members, young and old.

[Boden and Fleck] re-emerge carrying some of the hallmarks of comic book cinema as well: an overemphasis on in-jokes, a sprawling web of larger-than-life yet flimsy characters, and a belief that a kick-ass fight scene at the end can overwrite many of the wrongs that came before.

As Love Me unfolds, it becomes an exercise to explore how very human emotions affect evolving artificial intelligence beings. Although referring to it as an exercise sounds unfairly cold. The movie is certainly not that. Both Stewart and Yeun bring passion to their characters. . . But something feels off.

Where others could have made a less sophisticated pastiche, Schoenbrun has filtered the familiar through their nonconforming lens to beget a bona fide original.

Flawed but still engaging, “The Kitchen,” at least, has good intentions about togetherness and brotherhood and is a promising debut for Kaluuya and Tavares.

While “Frida” does show signs of promise, especially when it leans into the distinctive, and Kahlo’s penchant for magical realism, it’s never as vibrant as her. One wishes the doc could similarly unshackle itself, match the artist’s radiant spirit, and push itself into the next innovative frontier.

Revenge is often described as a dish best served cold, but with the way Mayhem! draws audiences into its compelling story, this film is white hot, and reminds audiences why revenge is on the menu in the first place.

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.

Good Grief arguably doesn’t quite get there in the end, but there is a promising sense of possibility for what the future could hold for Levy as a filmmaker next.

Leave The World Behind isn’t as perfect as its best-written moments —the ones that are somehow expertly frightening, funny, stressful, and cleverly observational, all at the same time—and the movie even f*cks up its Chekov’s gun tease. But as a wicked, playful, tension-filled, and alarming treatise on humanity, its deep flaws, and how fragile, questionable, scattered, and thus vulnerable we are to attack?

James Wan has delivered. Don’t be fooled by the diminished fanfare because his good work should not go unappreciated.

“Rebel Moon” is nearly unwatchable and one of the most stunning misfires of this scale in quite some time.

[Clooney's] out-of-current-fashion movies can feel quaint in some ways, but more power to the filmmaker who can make whatever the hell they want and do it well and do so on their own terms.

It’s hard not to smile as Chicken Run: Dawn of the Nugget wraps things up, even if said smile comes unexpectedly; admittedly, this is the sort of surprising delight that serves to both remind an audience why the original remains such a gem while acting as a worthy successor.

Knock Helgeland’s unpersuasive plot, his broad writing platitudes, and some of the more ridiculous twists of the genre all you want, but the filmmaker at least seems to know, understand, and capture the milieu and people of these communities. Sure, that’s not enough to save Finestkind, but there is something there.

The movie has its issues. . . The wrestling though? The action in the ring? Durkin’s direction of those classic matches? It often looks more “real” than the WWE or professional wrestling you see on television today.

It is a delightful experience to embrace Wonka with the wide-eyed wonder it deserves.

When given the space to explore the knottiness of being a gay man in a world taking but tentative steps toward recognizing the community’s full humanity, Luke Evans provides the complex representation that audiences are craving.

The effort deserves a nod, but the execution stumbles, falls, and, whether intentional or not, can’t be saved.

It’s weird to want to rein in the sensibilities of any comedian, especially when their proclivities lean towards the farcical and ridiculous; there is a palpable joy that emanates from their collective weirdness. Sadly, little of it translates into a laugh beyond a guffaw and most of it is empty.

While Liebmann steals the show here, what Wagner realizes with his film is every bit as impressive. The writer-director’s script and steady hand behind the camera breathe life into a bracing, heartbreaking, and ultimately reaffirming picture.

Napoleon is one of the handful of movies this year that benefits from being seen on a big screen. It’s an epic crowd-pleaser with a stellar cast who deliver top-notch performances and Scott’s best work since “The Martian.”

It’s a film that not only works as a self-reflective biography and community portrait but also as a testament to the living nature of literature, where a work is able to be interpreted and reinterpreted by the generations to come.

It’s a solid, aspirant crowd-pleaser that may not reinvent the wheel, but it proudly boasts a good enough set of them and confidently stays on the tracks.

It’s a powerful, infuriating document of a family’s resilience in the face of massive communal pressure and to the notion that these types of small, necessary shifts can add up.

Perhaps it’s the fact that the first 45 minutes of “When Evil Lurks” is so great, but the dopamine rush does fade quite a bit in the second half of the film.

While other directors make grand gestures about societal inequities, dating themselves with their stories and form, Jude is happy to launch a Molotov cocktail at everything that came before him. He is one of the freest filmmakers working right now—unencumbered by rules, politesse, or good taste. Contemporary malaise has rarely been captured on screen with such thrilling vividness as in Do Not Expect Too Much From The End Of The World.

Maybe Evolution, more a scratchpad of half-developed doodles than a feature, will be an expiation of sorts for both Mundruczó and Weber, and better, subtler ideas will prevail in future.

This is as middle-of-the-road as it gets, something no one will remember minutes after it wraps and, for this reason, will likely prompt very few to express anything overwhelmingly negative or the opposite.

“You Have to See It to Believe It” is a well-worn movie cliché, but trust that it applies to this utterly bananas corporeal bath of cinema in all its glorious sound and vision. As the film ratchets up to its batshit, gnarly, and beautifully mutilated conclusion, man, prepare yourself for how transgressive and hypnagogic it gets.

As an intriguing and complex portrait of humanism vs. idealism (to be civil about it), there’s also a fine line between faith and madness, and to their credit, The Mission filmmakers leave it up to the audience to decide where they stand; perhaps the sign of sharp filmmakers hoping to leave their viewer hashing it out for hours afterward (something that doc certainly engenders).

Make no mistake, most audiences will find ‘Believer’ revolting, but that’s also the point. It’s fascinating in the way it swings for the fences, is full of conviction, and is overflowing with stimulating ideas about acceptance, denial, community, and more, many of them engaging, many of them handled with no sense of taste (to which Green would probably argue is what Friedkin’s film did; good taste be cast out!).