More time could have been spent developing the bond between the men, but ultimately this is quite gripping: a weepie bromance. You don’t see one of those every day.

Quietly epic and sad but never sentimental.

Geostorm is a watery blend of Armageddon and 24, with enough action to entertain on a basic level. It’ll probably be most appealing to scientists looking for a good laugh.

In a world of portentous blockbusters getting ever darker, it’s a joy to see one throwing on the disco lights.

Despite the looming threats on display, Kosinski never imbues his movie with a real sense of danger until it’s too late to take the threat seriously. For all of the movie’s flare, Only the Brave lacks dynamism.

Marshall isn’t as flashy as it ought to be.

Macdonald, playing an outsider with wisdom, is by far the most sympathetic character; the movie has plenty to say about the parenting traditions of the wealthy, not much of it favorable.

The movie sometimes strains for visual impact: A German medical facility is designed like a Kubrickian nightmare. But by film’s end, Robin and Diana’s devotion to each other wins you over — as does Serkis’s devotion to his story.

It’s a film class, yes, but the most invigorating one you’ll take.

It all really happened but surely with a lot more passion than writer-director Angela Robinson’s script would have it.

Brawl then becomes a nightmare in scenes of skull-splattering violence that are truly sickening (and wonderful). Don’t look for a deeper meaning. Just soak up the grindhouse.

Indie wunderkind Sean Baker continues his celebration of communities on the margins, in a movie that vibrates with compassion and energy.

Mostly, it's hackneyed horror devices uneasily mixed with softball dramatics of atonement, to increasingly plodding effect. Somebody get a defibrillator in here, stat.

Actor turned director John Carroll Lynch gets out of the way of his star and lets him cast his spell one final time.

Arrival director Denis Villeneuve pulls off the dare of the decade, hatching a thoughtful, expansive sequel to a sci-fi classic.

The film’s best scenes are a series of hilarious father-son encounters where the son wants to be loved and the dad just doesn’t get it.

It’s a fun setup with a rousing finale that broadly compensates for a baggy middle section (at two hours, the film seems a little too long).

There’s plenty of action—and laughs here and there—but when a repeated cameo from Elton John is the best thing in a movie like this, you know you’re in trouble.

It’s a weird and unusually honest film.

A film about the importance of cultural history and truth (two things deeply under siege these days), Wiseman’s epic Ex Libris might make you cry with happiness; it’s the good fight being fought. Movies aren’t usually a public benefit, much less an essential one. Here’s the exception.

Director George Clooney raids a leftover script by the Coen brothers that lacks the snap of their more vicious crime comedies.

A sweet, deeply personal portrayal of female adolescence that's more attuned to the bonds between best girlfriends than casual flings with boys, writer-director Greta Gerwig’s beautiful Lady Bird flutters with the attractively loose rhythms of youth.

Co-writers, co-directors and brothers Alex and Andrew J. Smith—who outdo The Revenant for sincerity, depth and gorgeousness—mount their tale with enough confidence to cut away from the action.

This one’s a crucible of sweaty pre-natal panic, weird knocks at the door, mind games and ultimately, a roaring, miniature apocalypse set inside a single claustrophobic living room. If that already sounds like your home, it's time to go and give it a try.

Even though our clown-busting heroes predate the sweet kids on Stranger Things, they feel more generic. No performance here captures the adolescent longing that this story—essentially a coming-of-age tale—requires; only Sophia Lillis, playing the “Molly Ringwald” in an all-boys club of self-described losers, comes close to developing a distinct psychology.

Home Again is too superficial to maintain tension as a character-driven drama, and not funny enough to overcome an aimless plot and confused tone.

Bell’s film ends up stuck between being a standard audience-pleaser and something more subversive. For a movie about marriage, you wish it would commit one way or the other.

The Shape of Water is a movie of too many ideas, including love. For that reason alone, it drinks like a bottomless glass of velvety wine.