By showing mainstream audiences what the everyday lives of these young women looks like, and by showing the metaphorical and political significance of reversing the racist tropes that dominate popular culture, the film makes a substantial contribution to the ongoing discussion of North American history generally, and more importantly, who gets to tell their own stories.

Sadly, even with the contributions of four screenwriters and the still underrated talents of Byrne...it simply doesn’t work.

It is Clooney, of course, that anchors and crowns this dramedy milimetrically envisioned to tug at the hearts of cinephiles (and, for the sake of addressing the elephant in the Netflix room, awards voters).

Bidegain certainly scores points for ambition with his first film, and in scenes or snippets...you can see what he was aiming for. Unfortunately, by the time it’s done, Les Cowboys feels like a missed opportunity.

While occasionally dipping into adulation, especially when Fine gently probes Wilson to speak about some aspect of his life, the film is an excellent primer for deeper dives into Wilson’s life and a lighthearted hang with a musical legend.

The young couple exists in a bubble of love that has an air of reality sucked right out of it.

Herzi’s directing skills have showcased her talented cast. Her slick aesthetic has given the tale a needed polish. But will the rest of it stay with you? For someone, somewhere, in a similar situation, if they can find a way to see it, it no doubt will.

Thankfully, Drucker has enough charisma to hold your attention in even the most mundane moments.

As a primer for deeper dives, including Wadleigh’s film, it’s mainly successful, contextualizing the events and providing some never-before-seen footage. Yet for those already versed in what transpired on Yasgur’s farm, Goodman’s film is really just playing the hits.

Neither an exciting thriller nor a satisfactory (“elevated”) horror metaphor for one of society’s ills, FRESH is certified meh.

For all its entrancing imagery, Zi is ultimately contrived in how the few concrete details of the narrative come together. The result is more experiential than thematically substantial.

Though vastly different, Spoor is a fascinating counterpoint to Darren Aronofsky’s “mother!,” as both feature a feminine inflected natural sphere attempting to defend itself from the depredations of a boorish patriarchy. But where Aronosky’s allegory flattens its Mother Earth figure into an eternal victim, “Spoor” plays a more subversive game, suggesting that the repressed will rise and that victims will not always remain that way.

It’s an odd film and a fascinating one—narratively simplistic, artistically complex—at times ravishing and then puzzling, much like the enigmatic films of Carax and the idiosyncratic music of Sparks.

Chappaquiddick hardly lands with the power of an exposé, and doesn’t bite hard enough to spur a reconsideration of the Kennedys. The film revives a chapter in Kennedy history, but what it means nearly forty years later is never quite clear.

The trio (Hoffman/Keener/Walken) give top shelf performances as we've always come to expect from them in A Late Quartet. But it's just too bad that they're in service of Yaron Zilberman's film, which takes the unique focus of a string quartet in Manhattan, and puts it in the middle of a standard and unsatisfying soap opera, that spins off into one subplot too many.

An interesting, but ultimately light and frothy, Parisian rom-com that flies by at a breezy 73 minutes, A Faithful Man does alright for itself despite a few baked in flaws.

Wigon’s sleek, seductive drama — as contained and actor-driven as a stage play, though shot so expressively that it could only be cinema — breaks down this pairing just to build it back up from scratch, testing the viability of a connection rooted in guarded performance as it crawls on all fours toward a more open, authentic intimacy.

It’s a heartwarming story of a father and son bonding, one which highlights that nothing is more powerful than family.

A contemplative look into one man’s life, Homme Less has resonance beyond just Mark Reay.

But what’s especially dispiriting, this time around, is that the film promises more. It opens with a remarkable pre-title sequence of Davidson on the highway, driving with a stern face, and listening to the radio; we’re joining him in the middle of something, and we’re not sure what. And then he closes his eyes and steps on the gas, a move of suicidal recklessness that nearly gets him (and several other drivers) killed, after which he stammers, to no one in particular, several consecutive “I’m sorry’s.” It’s not clear why this opening exists, in the context of ‘Staten Island,’ because it’s not comedic, and it’s not feel-good.

As an experiment in format, “America Murder” is intriguing. Instead of bringing people in to give fresh commentary, we have only the artifacts left behind by a seemingly ordinary family in a seemingly ordinary suburb. But as a documentary, it makes for an incomplete picture, like trying to piece together the story of an ancient disaster based only on archaeological fragments.

Some of the drama is a bit wooden, but it’s an animated movie that brings real issues into a surreal world. Plus, it’s mainly an adventure.

Kubi is an outrageously exhilarating update of the samurai epic, dialing up the blood and guts and sprinkling in the sick humor to match.

Park proves to be a director with style and wit to spare, staging revelatory sequences that walk the narrow line between comedy and provocation.

The supporting cast, fine craft, and the appealingly idiosyncratic approach to history, legacy, and storytelling summon as much energy as they can and fling it Tesla’s way. Whatever he’s made of in Almereyda’s film, it’s a perfect insulator and generates no sparks.

It’s a sign of how quickly it feels like the world is being torn apart around us that even a ripped-from-the-headlines documentary, such as Karim Amer and Jehane Noujaim’s The Great Hack, can feel almost dated.

Touching and brimming with the energy, enthusiasm and tides of teenage love and life, 'Perks' could very well be the next classic of the genre.

Magee’s script doesn’t always give them enough material to play with, but Corrin runs with it and, most impressively, with a freedom that totally clicks with de Clermont-Tonnerre’s sensibilities. And yet, when the credits roll it feels like something is missing and, well, you somehow wish they’d pushed it even more.