It leans a bit heavy into big swing emotional moments and has a few shouting matches too many, but Asgari gives an absolutely tremendous performance that hits like a wrecking ball and may make even the most stone-hearted tear up.

Shrouded in an elegiac reverie, The Midnight Sky is a frequently beautiful movie, from the mechanical ballet of the bird-like Aether to the brief glimpses of K-23, where Jupiter looms in a purplish night sky. But its inability to make a strong connection between the separated stories, and a tone that slips sometimes from poetic quietude to sentimentality, keep the movie from taking a long and honest look at the devastation its reticent mood only suggests.

Education ends “Small Axe” on unsuspectingly grand terms. Yet the compact 63-minute coming-of-age film never loses its soft devoted touch. And McQueen, already an incredible filmmaker, shows another facet to his immense range.

Despite hanging back at times too much for its own good, Mayor remains a fascinating portrait of what city politics look like under extreme conditions.

For those yearning for the dimly lit, stale smelling room, crammed in that weird corner of the mall, where blurps and bloops rang in your ears and faces were filled with a phosphorescent CRT glow, “Insert Coin” will tickle the wistful longing for that unique and exciting atmosphere. And for those who couldn’t experience it for themselves, this scrappy documentary earnestly tries to convey the giddy and anarchic spirit of the golden age of video games.

Though blessed with a strong lead performance by Pettersen, “Disco” is quick to knock the empty spectacle that undoubtedly accounts for significant portions of contemporary Christianity without entertaining the notion that, for some, faith does hold real value in their lives. It’s not particularly challenging to make a punching bag out of any organized religion, but it takes a far more clever piece of filmmaking to acknowledge its shortcomings and benefits while still maintaining a critical tone. Unfortunately, Disco isn’t that picture.

In its new form, The Godfather Coda is still not a masterpiece. But it’s a fine film and worthy conclusion, and its alterations – the repositioning of several scenes, the cutting of others, and a new opening closing –genuinely improve the final product.

In Ryan Murphy’s film adaptation for Netflix, the show’s flaws seem accentuated, with its spectacle too mismanaged to distract that The Prom’s brand of sincerity isn’t necessarily tailored for the screen, or at least not in this form.

Alex Wheatle combines the relevant themes that guide the prior “Small Axe” installments: music as an escape from one’s environment, police brutality, and a character adrift from his community — yet the writing struggles to connect the major plot points for big picture interpretations of Alex’s cultural self-education.

In fairness Superintelligence could skirt by on surface-level examination of its themes if it was funny. Comedy, more than any genre, lives or dies on the delivery of its central promise: If a comedy makes viewers laugh, then it’s a successful comedy. This is not a successful comedy.

It’s the same primitive family-friendly fare that made the original a box-office sensation.

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.

Clear-eyed and clinical without being detached from the human cost, this is a riveting drama of catastrophic amorality told with a cold fury.

What 69: The Saga of Danny Hernandez accidentally confirms is that life would be so much better for all of us if everyone chose to collectively ignore its central subject.

For those willing to spend ninety-plus minutes with Herzog as he riffs on the wonders of space, “Fireball” is a heartfelt tribute to scientific exploration.

If you’re looking for a fun slasher film that offers new twists on old tropes, you’ll come to Freaky for the phenomenal performances by Vaughn and Newton, and stay for the surprisingly sweet story of a girl being empowered and her family healing from grief.

The filmmakers’ inability or unwillingness to actually engage with the discourse it builds Echo Boomers around leaves the film feeling both artificial and hysterical.

As it stands, Gibson and Goggins carry the show and the Nelms stick to their stern tone without wavering. Whatever other marks the film misses, at least it has conviction.

Hillbilly Elegy has nothing to say about the circumstances that caused these addictions and resentments, and it certainly has noting useful to say about “economic anxiety.” There’s nothing remotely thoughtful or even provocative about it, which is a shame – at least that would’ve made it memorable.

There is some pleasure in spotting the winks and legends and shout-outs, but as with any biopic, of any figure, you can’t just bank on familiarity— you have to give the unfamiliar viewer (and, considering the platform it’s on, there will be many) reasons to care. By the end of Mank, even I wasn’t sure any of this mattered all that much.

Its message is timeless. Its performances? Flawless. And if The Killing of Two Lovers can be described as anything more than a must-see film, it can best be defined as a cautionary tale dedicated to the fragility of the family structure in the United States, a showcase of a radically talented filmmaker and a dedication to the painful reality of love.

If Us Kids had shed its extra weight and fine-tuned its focus, the nonfiction feature might have bloomed into a decade-defining documentary.

As a “release it during an election year” film and response to the world’s current political crisis, clearly cobbled together at the last minute, it’s perhaps a fitting goodbye to a flawed character who has resurfaced suddenly to say, in the fleeting final minutes of the film, maybe we can change.

Lombroso delivers close, often uncomfortable intimacy. He catches his subjects in the heat of the alt-right’s coming-out period in 2016 and 2017, when the mainstream press was just starting to turn over some rocks and write about what oozed out.

Featuring a breakout performance from an enrapturing Wong-Loi-Sing, and a beguiling turn from Siriboe, Really Love is a timeless black romance. Kristi Williams is an assured new voice already nestling herself inside audiences’ hearts.

Ultimately, Love & Monsters is a film about picking yourself up, taking your destiny into your own hands, and not being afraid of living, even though you’re likely to make some mistakes along the way. And it’s a damn fun adventure to boot.

This is a stunning piece of work and a triumphant fanfare for the arrival of a remarkable new talent.

It’s hard not to fall a little in love with Alex and Maggie as they let down their guard and open up about their college experiences. It’s also hard not to wonder if these characters – especially Maggie – are genuinely deserving of the ending the film has to offer.