By the end, the movie’s harshest argument isn’t only that the government lies—it’s that ecosystems are built to manage the damage of those lies, from intelligence agencies to newsrooms to corporate interests that fear the truth like it’s an extinction event.

Marty Supreme isn’t a moral fable about discipline and sportsmanship; it’s a portrait of ambition as a living, breathing necessity—something Marty must manifest into existence, from his lips to God’s ears. Throughout the madness, Safdie finds an unexpectedly human pulse within the chaos, transforming it into an ecstatic, white-knuckle rollercoaster ride.

A Poet is modest but engrossing and a successful attempt by Soto to transcend the stereotypes imposed upon him and his cinema as a Colombian artist.

Call it “naïve-core,” perhaps, as the film so thoroughly loses touch with reality by avoiding conflict of any kind. His empty platitudes like “humans help humans” are rendered useless and risible inside a work that seems to lack even a basic understanding of humanity in 2008, 2025, or any time at all.

Another romantic comedy in a long list of contemporaries which, despite scant traces of effort, fails in making its title character anything more than second fiddle to the couple who should rightfully take his place.

With a film like Anniversary, any ideas formed from the jump best take occupancy at the door. This is not meant to establish an unexpectedly entertaining journey or incredible third-act twist, but rather something far more frustrating.

The film’s anger is muted but unmistakable. “Thoughts & Prayers” is about a nation that would rather teach children how to hide, how to bleed, how to die — than pass even the most modest gun reforms. It’s about an America that keeps choosing adaptation over prevention, ritual over change, and performative sorrow over meaningful protection.

Will it win over people who didn’t get on board for the first film? Probably not. Will the film’s darkness appeal to those wanting more of the same? It won’t be everyone’s cup of tea but that’s not the movie’s fault. Breathtaking and bold, Wicked: For Good is an epic and emotional event that will delight and enchant fans.

There’s more to recommend than not here, thanks to Nathan’s keen visual eye and Jupe’s complex interpretation of a figure often flattened into a neat function.

There’s no time like the present for a viewing of The White House Effect, and there is no wrong audience, no one immune to the presence of climate change. For those who already know, take it in. For those on the outskirts, you might wonder if it’s needed. It is.

By providing a voice to the voiceless, The Alabama Solution invites audiences into what they successfully argue is nothing less than a new frontier in the ongoing civil rights movement. Institutions may need more time to change, but any viewer of this film should only need two hours to be galvanized into action.

If the people on screen only feel like characters, then no amount of creepy creature design or surprising twist can make a venture such as Perkins’ here register as anything other than an antiseptic experience.

The film ultimately feels like little more than hired hand work from Wright. What he lacks in compositional vision, he tries to make up for in clever casting (Colman Domingo, William H. Macy, and Lee Pace all deliver their best), as well as some simple gags. But like the people in Ben Richards’ fictional dystopia discover, amusing ourselves to death can only go so far. “The Running Man” settles for being good when, if the topline talent had leaned into their fortes, it could have been truly great.

It’s bleak and uncompromising, but it’s a hell of an experience.

The Plague is a movie-movie, rather than a genuinely searching or affecting film about that most awkward age when fitting in with a group can seem like the most important thing in the world.

When Arco comes to its inevitable “E.T.” Inspired conclusion, the wondrous score by Arnaud Toulon may have you this close to shedding a tear. And you’ll wonder if this future is truly only an animated dream.

A curious, half-successful mutation in the “Predator” bloodline, ‘Badlands’ wants to transcend the franchise’s primal instincts. Instead, it proves that sometimes survival means knowing what not to evolve. Or at least, pushing the envelope with greater execution and story conviction.

Love+War doesn’t canonize Addario. It throws the audience into her contradiction: the duty to record history versus the duty to be present at home. It doesn’t answer whether those responsibilities can coexist, and that’s the point.

There’s a noble search for meaning in the grass, sea and mountains, but it couldn’t hurt to have characters vocalize their feelings even just once. There is a story here, though Pálmason only really alludes to it.

Like so many straight-to-streaming releases, there are sparks of life here, but it all feels like a yawning afterthought that any strengths won’t so much be overlooked due to the flaws, but forgotten altogether because there’s simply not enough here to latch onto, good or bad.

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?

There are scares, surprises, and it feels different, but also like a natural companion piece to the first movie.

Is This Thing On? isn’t perfect. It stumbles where it should soar. But it’s alive with feeling, and that counts for something.

Ultimately, Tron: Ares is all voltage and no current—an aesthetic overload that confuses stimulation for meaning.

Despite the frustrations of its labyrinthine rhythms, Landmarks is a worthy companion to Martel’s Zama in its prodding at the contradictions of a country whose denial is so grave it will bend its language and its laws before acknowledging truths that shed light on the horrors of its past that painfully echo in the present.

To see Daniel Day-Lewis reemerge under his son’s daring direction is more than a comeback; it’s a cinematic conflagration, a collision of legacy and reinvention that feels historic.

With nothing but artful austerity to offer as a tether back to reality, The Ice Tower shatters.

By the end, Are We Good? transcends its conventional biographical trappings to land somewhere soulful. Dragging us through the wreckage of grief and out the other side, it suggests that Maron’s legacy isn’t merely acerbic stand-up or podcast milestones, but the more complex work of becoming human in public.