Reitman is often at his best when he can join forces with an exceptional actor, and Theron once again helps with the heavy lifting.

Morris is at the stage of his career where everything he makes is both polished and interesting. But, in recent years, he’s oscillated between sweeping institutional exposés and zoomed-in portraits of characters. If anything, Separated again demonstrates that he’s at his best with the latter, as the documentary’s interests stretch far beyond its grasp.

What’s strikingly revolutionary in Pleasure is how Thyberg’s gaze provides Bella’s story much-needed context by embracing the mundane aspects of this particular world.

Time Out Of Mind is a film of tremendous patience and pace, as it wants you to inhabit every minute, day, hour and year of homelessness. But it's through that considered approach that the reveal of George's deep self-hatred and low self-esteem carries an extraordinary power; time has worn his sense of self to the point of despair that's deeply moving.

Few would argue that Oldman isn’t one of the finest actors of his generation, but this is a tour de force portrayal that will define his body of work for decades to come.

The script is well-structured, refined, and satisfying, and the direction is sure-handed. Not to mention, it's refreshing to have lesser-seen romances and different kinds of friendships on screen. Emotional and entertaining, I’ll See You In My Dreams is a sweet and sensitive tale.

Kore-eda's trademark humility and humanism is here, and we do get glimpses, even stretches, that suggest the piercingly bittersweet vitality of his best work. But "Our Little Sister" feels like "Kore-eda lite."

Feig's commitment to the genre, and some truly wonderful set pieces, make Spy as lovable as its main character.

He’s not quite deconstructing the gangster picture, but he succeeds in draining all its allure.

Eisenberg does an enormous amount with what he has, proving to be sinister and vulnerable virtually within the same breath, and expertly putting across the torment he’s going through.

Without overly romanticizing it or suggesting that, ultimately, it is anything more than a business built around the talents of some very singular men, Sunada's film becomes a love letter of a most unusual kind, because it is addressed to a place that is unremarkable in every way except for the spirit that flowed through it.

While talking-heady and occasionally self-aggrandizing, Leap Of Faith, still inspires deep respect for Friedkin as the bright and brilliant artist he is. Flaws and all, the filmmaker is a person who commands your attention whether he is sitting in front of, or behind, the camera.

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.

Send Help is pure Raimi: a survival thriller that disguises itself as corporate satire before mutating into something far nastier and more fun. It’s ridiculous by design, walking a razor’s edge between menace and mockery, and it thrives in that instability.

The parts of the movie that are going to resonate the most have the pacing they need to bring up one’s own memories of listening to a grandparent’s advice, of doing something you shouldn’t have to impress someone, or working up the nerve to talk to someone you liked. Perhaps these resurfaced memories are an unintended souvenir of visiting Branagh’s “Belfast,” but it’s one that may stick with moviegoers for quite some time after the credits roll.

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

The picture's conspiratorial late-night tone and fleshy after hours luridness was practically built for watching at night, when our parents think we've gone off to bed (think '80s films directed by folks like Adrian Lyne).

The Batterered Bastards of Baseball is an entertaining celebration of the independent spirit and the love of the game.

Yes, you’ll likely leave the theater blown away by Casal and Diggs’ considerable talent, but its Estrada’s vision that will haunt you.

Aside from the striking scenes occurring on the battlefronts, everything else in this picture is subpar. “A Private War” works off a disjointed script and tells a dull story, populated with forgettable characters. Pike throws herself into Marie, and the intensity of her commitment is palpable, but the flashy performance feels soulless.

The Wolfpack is a film about access, and though we are admitted into the world of the eponymous Wolfpack, not understanding how we got there robs the film of compelling commentary.

“Until the Wheels Fall Off” may not, no pun intended, reinvent the wheel of sports documentaries. But it’s a compelling dive into skateboarding culture from 1980 onwards and helps to illustrate just how important Hawk was to legitimize the sport.

Focused on fetishizing rather than intimately depicting, director Chad Hartigan has produced a warm-hearted yarn that treats its two African-American leading men like props in his white-washed game of chess.

The Plagiarists is a fantastic idea that is irredeemably marred by poor execution. There is a genuine sensation of effort on screen and a select few of the ideas the film touches upon are outright brilliant, but the product still falls remarkably flat.

It’s the rare film that can hit a nerve as well as an artery.

A truly moving and edifying film, Rich Hill is the type of media object that could and should be put in a time capsule for future generations.

Marcello brilliantly captures the circular nature of the perpetual expanse between the working class and the elite in the dense characterization of his subjects and the dialogue surrounding the rejection of Martin’s early writing.

Striking and consistently engaging, the Russos deftly craft compelling blockbuster entertainment out of a a moral and emotional conflict, and that’s more impressive than any overblown display of loud and vulgar power.