Pixar’s latest animated offering Coco is a pleasant enough diversion, offering colorful visual delights that are as imaginative as they are gorgeous.

I love that Gilroy challenges audiences. I can’t wait to see what he’s got up his sleeve as a writer and director next. But, even with Washington’s magnificence, I’m having a hard time thinking Roman J. Israel, Esq. is anything close to a piece of essential cinema.

Last Flag Flying moved me to tears while in the same breath it had me laughing out loud, everything building to a stunningly personal denouement that left me speechless.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri knocked me sideways, McDonagh’s latest a mesmerizing piece of satirical social commentary that packs a mean wallop.

While disjointed and more than a little structurally incoherent, gosh darn it all if Justice League doesn’t end up proving to be a heck of a lot more fun than it has any right to be.

BPM (Beats Per Minute) wrecked me something fierce, Campillo’s latest a piece of historical fiction that’s just as relevant today as it ever was a quarter-century ago.

Daddy’s Home 2 is a lump of seasonal coal delivered into the multiplex with all the pomp and circumstance of a slap to the face, this holiday-themed comedy a laughless slog better left unwatched.

Lady Bird never hits a false note, each beat of the story building one upon the next to produce a melodious coming of age symphony that’s absolutely sensational.

Even if some of the plot points feel a little underdeveloped, and even though a few of the characters never spring to life the same way here as they do in the novel, the director still does Christie proud, his version of Murder on the Orient Express a gorgeously widescreen old school mystery I’d happily watch again right this second.