Kapadia’s tight focus and compelling viewpoint make “Diego Maradona” a must-see for soccer fans, and certainly a biographical doc of interest to wider audiences.

Onoda – 10,000 Nights in the Jungle, which runs two hours and 45 minutes, is an achievement: a moving and multifaceted film about one man’s quixotic attempt at leading a meaningful life.

The biggest lesson to take away from I, Daniel Blake is how a movie doesn’t have to be psychologically complex or cinematically dazzling to dig beyond its surface. It’s rudimentary in terms of technique, but how the film generates its power is through the themes of humanity and kindness at its center.

A cinematic, cultural and personal triumph, The Dark Knight Rises is emotionally inspiring, aesthetically significant and critically important for America itself – as a mirror of both sober reflection and resilient hope.

The Lost City Of Z won’t be for all viewers, but its delicate devotion to itself is something sure to inspire admiration and obsessives.

Even when this film is a bit too neat, it’s still totally irresistible.

While Mirrors No.3 does not put a foot wrong, it does not display the narrative and formal intricacy we have come to expect from the director either. After the film elegantly sets its mechanisms in motion, we are left to watch the cogs turn without a hitch, but also without much surprise.

And to say that directors Joe and Anthony Russo fulfilled the promise set by last year’s blockbuster, and the 22-film MCU story arc, is a gross understatement. The directing duo has really outdone themselves with this one. It’s just that outdoing themselves comes with some consequences.

While Donbass is far from perfect, hiding too much of its story and message in at-times dull and layered absurdity, it nevertheless presents a harrowing picture of how war and nationalism corrupt and degrade places nowhere near the battlefield.

Everyone involved might not get the exact arrangement they imagined, but the outcome is still magical in its own way.

It’s easily the most suspenseful American film of the year, a thriller that feels like lightning across a quiet night sky; sudden, terrifying, and excitingly singular.

The People’s Joker is deeply weird and often feels like the first draft of someone’s first attempt at using genre as a type of autofiction. But it’s also heartfelt, fascinating, and a really compelling introduction to an original cinematic voice.

There’s no question as to the compelling way in which McCollum goes about his journey, less a tent-style preacher barking commands at a receptive crowd but rather a kind individual with nothing more than the belief that his life has a larger purpose. The bigger questions remain unanswered, but just as the film’s title carries a question mark, was that ever the point?

Hooligan Sparrow is a vital reminder of the importance of artistic and journalistic freedom, and that telling certain stories can be an inherently perilous proposition — especially when those stories reveal something that the government would rather keep under wraps.

The picture is a triumph: it's arguably Garland’s tightest and most fascinating screenplay to date, brought to life with meticulous filmmaking and sensational performances. It's the first great film of 2015.

In systematic and cinematically dazzling fashion, Loznitsa’s nihilistic riff will drag you to a circle of hell that makes Dante’s “Inferno” look like a love sonnet, and you’ll walk out of the film feeling woozy, defeated and utterly destroyed, in that order.

Saloum is tense and, when it kicks into high gear, scary as hell.

The actions and events are naked to our eyes, not couched in reasons and justifications, not softened by explanations, by words.

A movie about manhood, brotherhood and the unexpected bonds of fraternity, explored in all their brutality and twisted humor, The Sisters Brothers presents the cruel hostilities of the world, the innocence lost in the madness and the possibilities of a humanity still to be found scattered through the debris of American carnage.

With its short runtime and heady mix of styles, scenes, and ruminations, it’s still a fascinating refraction of one of the most interesting filmmakers working today.

Yes, the film is a heartfelt homage to Lorenz Hart, but also to the strength necessary to say goodbye to the world as you knew it, so even the occasional bitterness Hart speaks with has a balmy quality to it.

More than a sardonic subversion of the tropes we fall for time after time, Schrader’s thoughtful romantic study digs into mundane neuroses and existential fears with wisdom, and empathy, making sure to keep you guessing long after Alma and Tom have stopped gazing into each other’s eyes.

The Eight Mountains is a sentimental ode to those singular friendships we make in our lives, the kind that can’t be severed by any amount of distance, physical or temporal. Even when there’s so much left unsaid, it’s the comfort they find in each other that resonates most.

Dickey and Studi are magnetic on-screen, oscillating between the easy chemistry of old friends, and the awkwardness of strangers.

Assayas has often shown great wit in his screenplays (most recently in “Clouds of Sils Maria”), but there is a rhythm to his writing here that is surprisingly good.

Its off-the-cuff nature makes for a film that is not flawless – the music is a bit daft, and some of the acting a little too “large” for the intimate setting – but is, from beginning to end, delightful.

Once it ends, you may be panting from exhaustion while still appreciating that Endless Poetry is greater than the sum of its parts as it feels naturally necessary and appropriately organic to the series.