With all this evocative material available it’s unfortunate that Kent lavishes so much of the overgenerous runtime on repetitive and redundant plotting.

So much does not connect here and so much is designed to discomfit that there is unexpected resonance when Alverson lays aside the scabrousness and puts down oddball drollery to remind us that inside every lonely young man, there’s a shivering kid waiting to be picked up and brought in from the snow.

Maya is full of the kind of tiny, keenly observed moments that make Løve such a special filmmaker.

Perry combines a knock-out cast with an incisive script for a wild-eyed musical-drama with poignant themes.

Green Book is an on-the-nose social commentary that is told with such craftsmanship, earnestness, and comedic expertise that you’re still excited to go along for the ride.

One of the film’s successes is its ability to subvert expectations.

A stunning, often flooring masterwork about desperation, writer/director Tim Sutton’s, “Donnybrook” is a brutal elegy for those living on the forgotten fringes of America.

Every time Dolan generates a head of steam, he’s betrayed by his script, by the self-conscious formality of the dialogue, or the clunkiness of the structure.

It’s an uneven film, but a deeply passionate one that also features an A-list actress at the top of her game.

Does this film say anything liberals and conservatives didn’t already know? Probably not. It does offer a candid, civil, and up-close look at a man championing hard-right (some might say racist) ideals, which is more than viewers get from watching CNN-panel screaming matches and Fox News hagiographies.

Every character must negotiate their own boundaries while trying to hold on to what, and whom, they love, and the detailed portrait of that struggle saves the movie from its second half mistakes.

Hill’s basically remaking Larry Clark’s seminal 1995 film “Kids,” a picture inherently more authentic because it was a snapshot taken in that moment. And if you prefer the rose-colored lens of nostalgia, that’s been done too, in Jonathan Levine’s 2008 effort “The Wackness.”

Fogelman clearly gets a thrill in constructing a tapestry full of one random tragedy after another (seriously, almost nothing good seems to happen to these people long term). And he also appears to love manipulating the audience’s emotions with these subsequent tragedies.

Meant to appear as some kind of tribute to the victims and families of the Kursk, Vinterberg’s poorly strategized film barely justifies its existence.

As usual, Strickland’s latest is delirious, deeply delicious in sumptuous form and sly humor. It’s an oddball film, even for the unusual filmmaker.

Despite the melodramatic ending, you leave the theater wanting to root for the film and its characters.

Greta is one of those thrillers where you see almost every twist coming, but the actors are so into it that you still get sucked in.

It aims for simplicity, for a celebration of his unrivaled talents, and often fails to explore the complexity of the very man at its center.

High Life feels longer than it is, and is occasionally so squirrely that it becomes off-putting. But in spite of the aforementioned traceable connections, it’s a true original — sometimes strange, sometimes scary, sometimes kinky.

While its story is thin, its emotional undercurrent has a strong pull with poignantly topical notions of empathy, grief, and mercy.

Jenkins captures the humor, verve, and considerable complexity of the prose.

Ultimately, the chilly Sunset recreates a version of 1913 Budapest that crackles with life but lacks spirit and emotional connection. Nemes shows viewers the smoke and then the fire but provides no reason for them to care about the world as it burns.

Halloween is a love letter to the original picture and entertaining on its own terms. Thrilling, atmospheric, and brutally violent, Green delivers exactly what fans want from the series and then some.

Widows is definitely a good film and one that often has greatness in its grasp. But it often feels like, at some point in the process, McQueen needed to decide if he was making wallpaper or art.

An angry, provocative conversation starter designed to shake viewers loose of their political indifference and inspire them to take up the charge, the rousing picture deserves to sit at the table recognized as one of Moore’s best work.

By working in such a deliberately muted key, the emotional payoffs we’re conditioned to require from a story like this never quite arrive, and Van Groeningen never finds a workable substitute for them.

Demange, who earned glowing reviews for his debut “’71,” tries to guide all these plotlines and characters with a steady hand, but it often feels too unwieldy. There are simply too many storylines and threads competing with each other. The result is a movie that it feels like snippets of a life instead of a portrait of one.

For fans of Ashby, or even just lovers of good cinema, Hal serves as a wonderful examination of a masterful director who had a lasting influence on generations of cinephiles. Had Scott dug a bit deeper, though, she might have stumbled across something as profound as the filmmaker she supposes to glorify.