The ride is as shaky as the dwarfs’ rickety mine cars.

Bong Joon Ho is like an avant garde chef who’s opened a pop up kitchen in some strange part of the city you don’t know very well. You don’t know what to expect, but when you try the food, it’s a brilliant combination of disparate ingredients you never would have thought to put together

The dialogue is witty, snitty, and sharp—the kind of thing Soderbergh can craft in his sleep.

Last Breath’s confining tendrils creep into nearly every scene, pulling you deeper into its suffocating grip.

As a filmmaker, octogenarian Sir Ridley Scott has opted toward the bombastic: spectacle-laced CGI effect showcases, attempting epic sweep with a fulcrum of bombardment.

Sean Baker’s pronounced humanism is one of his strongest superpowers as a director. Whether they are trans sex workers (Tangerine), young children living in a motel (The Florida Project), or con artists new to town (Red Rocket), his generosity with his characters always shines.

Instead of an organic sense of nostalgia, Here lands more like a sappy greeting card: visually appealing but hollow.

Conclave is a brilliant example of slow-burn, understated storytelling that works.

The title refers to a singular fluid, but there are actually a great many other substances at play.

Twisters is a bigger mess than the towns it depicts after a direct hit.

Inside Out 2 is a schizophrenic jumble with everyone spread way too thin.

Tuesday manages to poke and prod at the fragile tendrils of a topic laden with countless taboos and cultural beliefs.