Alex Lee Moyer’s documentary on the rise of incels doesn’t quite unlock what makes them so angry and dissatisfied.
Karen Bernstein’s doc about the gender-fluid journey of Brian Belovitch is a deep well of empathy.
Billie Piper makes waves with a visually stunning, but dramatically inert directorial debut.
With a quietly assured lead and a keen sense of rhythm, Jessie Barr’s debut feature announces the writer/director as a talent to watch.
Disney+’s adaptation of the Jerry Spinelli novel is tooth-achingly twee.
Lynn Chen’s debut is an achingly honest tale of lost time and potential.
India’s “first spaceship movie” is a languid, but occasionally thoughtful sci-fi dramedy about the bureaucracy of death.
Mary Mazzio’s inspirational sports doc is as empowering as it is occasionally muddled.
Black cinema (and American cinema as a whole) hasn’t been the same since the release of Spike Lee’s revolutionary New York drama.
Vin Diesel nicely keys into more stoic shootouts, but the movie around him can’t weld together its medley of genre inspirations.
The Erwin Brothers’ Christian romance aims for crossover appeal, but can’t quite rock its way into the free world.
Liz Garbus’ Sundance drama offers a gut-wrenching, if muddled, look at a true crime disappearance.
Brian De Palma’s bizarro, big-budget blastoff is rocky, but it remains an effectively fun entry in the director’s filmography.
Kelly Reichardt’s latest is a kindhearted storybook of a film that gracefully balances the sights, sounds, and textures of pre-Gold Rush Oregon.
Peter Berg and Mark Wahlberg’s latest exercise in macho posturing is both aesthetically and thematically ugly.
Ireland’s good-natured paranormal rom-com is uneven in spots but makes up for it with charm & wit.
Spike Lee’s third film is a caustic, exuberant exploration of the politics of race in the ’80s, from colorism to the effectiveness of activism.
Spike Lee’s 1986 debut is a bold, if shaggy, milestone for the history of Black cinema.