It’s a charming, brightly animated love letter to Hollywood’s heyday and a celebration of the moviegoing experience.

A memorable coming-of-age story, at times beautifully realized and occasionally a little undercooked.

A big, sprawling romantic comedy with large emotions and messy characters and shoutouts to your favorite love stories. The enthusiasm comes across, and it’s infectious even when the movie doesn’t quite work. Which is most of the time.

Toy Story 5' is an easy movie to like. It’s just too redundant to completely respect.

Some cheap, stupid comedies are funny enough to get away with it, and Stop! That! Train! isn’t one of them.

It’s a movie that’s constantly telling you stakes and what the characters want but rarely letting you invest in a shared sense of wonder. Instead, you have a film that announces the connection between reality and imagination without letting the images speak for themselves.

[Michael Sarnoski's] latest isn’t deep enough or captivating enough to make the same impact as his previous movies, but it’s a mature work that makes a valid point, and Hugh Jackman gives an excellent lead performance.

The Furious hits like a sledgehammer — frequently with a sledgehammer — and it leaves a refreshing aftertaste.

It’s so bombastic and enjoyable that it’s easy to forgive that the story doesn’t work. I won’t forget that the story doesn’t work, but it has my forgiveness.

A funny and frightening, heartwarming and heartbreaking, confrontational masterwork that explores our shared experience of the present, and reveals what a morbid mistake it is to expect the frivolity of the past to heal our current pains.

In a genre where differences between most stories come down to small details, the film is a reminder that even seemingly worn-out formulas can work when they’re well executed—and that a seasoned pilot at the helm can make the journey especially enjoyable.

Critics aren’t in on the joke, we are the joke. A bad review for Scary Movie is like giving it five stars.

Travis Knight’s Masters of the Universe is so blah, and so embarrassed of itself, that it could very well be the final nail in the coffin for 1980s nostalgia.

If this movie was nothing but a sightseeing tour of disquieting office buildings Parsons probably could have gotten away with it. But the more 'Backrooms' tries to have a point, the more pointless it feels.

The Breadwinner' has more stale corny bits than a Kellogg’s factory dumpster.

Maras’ sturdy, competent direction isn’t enough to turn 'Pressure' into anything more than a nifty historical anecdote that can’t sustain a feature-length motion picture.

The focused way Wollner writes and directs this ensures that the drama, much like the one memorable early shot, is restrained, never once feeling exploitative of this grief.

A major work played in a minor key, cinematographer-turned-director Marine Atlan’s magnificent, melancholic and moving feature directorial debut La Gradiva is one of those true discoveries that you only get a few times in life.

There’s easily another version of this story that could have been the movie of the week on Netflix, but Mysius and her team are too talented, too adroitly adept at merging the universal emotions of their characters with the cultural specificity of this story, to deliver anything less than compelling.

Zombie projects can be smart, but this project seems too unsure of its own identity to fully commit to the zany ideas Yeon has in store. It would have been better to stick to being brainless.

This is a film of details and detours, digressive above all, cast with non-professionals native to the region. It plays as an ethnographic travelogue, using a potboiler hook for lightly applied narrative structure.

Thea Sharrock’s film effectively skewers institutionalized misogyny and sexist comedy movie tropes, but the message was clearer and more powerful in the original short, which was allowed to be disturbing without also having to be funny.

Even when it does start to eventually run out of steam, Monroe never slows down, making even the quiet moments feel like they could explode at any second. It’s a truly exciting, unpredictable performance that keeps you locked in.

A film about fathers and daughters, men and monsters, mountains of food and clogged toilets, Quentin Dupieux’s farcical pseudo body horror “Full Phil” is the type of movie you’ll either find yourself eating up every minute of or rejecting entirely.

With the help of some sterling actors that include Adriana Paz and Anna Diaz, he takes a small story, tells it without much embellishment and lets the results speak to the state of a fractured and hardhearted world.

It plays as an oral, musical history, rich in period research and detail, laying out its narrative and thematic concerns early and never really moving beyond them.

It’s rife with ingenious and technical marvels and sequences that rank among cinema’s best while also telling a very classical story about honoring those who’ve come before us, making space for the stories of those we may never meet, and acting as a celebration of those who never gave up on their love even when it was punishable by death.

That Marre shoots his bumbling middle-manager with an extraordinarily familiar shorthand of handheld cameras and rapid zooms only sharpens the film’s ironic bite. This is “The Office: Genocide.”