Maybe it was because I’d been read the book as a kindergartner by my mother. Maybe it was because it was one of the first pieces of literature I set out to read on my own. Whatever the reason, Ballard’s visually sumptuous take spun me round in such deliriously entranced circles I almost didn’t know how to react, [The Black Stallion] a poetic realization of everything I myself had imagined yet also at the same time so much more.

It’s quite possible The Man from U.N.C.L.E. is the single most underrated – and underappreciated – major studio tentpole that was released to theaters this past summer. It’s fantastic stuff, holding up beautifully on repeat viewing, just getting better and better each time I watch it.

Mr. Holmes holds up beautifully on repeat viewing. Additionally, it cements in my mind that both McKellan and Linney give two of 2015’s best performances, and even if Oscar (probably) won’t recognize them as such that doesn’t make what they accomplish here any less extraordinary.

[The Hallow] builds to a nicely nuanced conclusion, one that overflows with emotion and sacrifice, propelling things into the realm of a dark fairy tale the likes of which Brothers Grim would have been proud to have called their own.

While the elements in The 33 that do not work frustrate, the stuff revolving around those who truly deserve to be labeled as heroes thankfully never does. Their story has weight, it has meaning, and with everything pulsating to the delicate, emotionally pure refrains of late composer James Horner’s (Southpaw, Titanic) final score the miners’ collective triumph ends up being a rousing celebration of all that’s good and decent in this world I could not help but be moved by.

Freddie Joe Steinmark’s story is an incredible one. Thing is, while Pizzo’s heart is in the right place, he just can’t seem to get inside this particularly story in the same way he did with both Hoosiers and Rudy. He lets the melodrama driving the narrative overwhelm things, losing sight of the complexity of his characters in the process. My All American means well, and as a film it isn’t without merit; sadly there just isn’t enough of it for this inspirational sports story to emerge victorious.

McCarthy makes this investigation personal, universal, its intimate vivisection of this complex, destructively abhorrent tale impossible to turn away from. But the real glory is how the filmmaker shapes things into a chronicle of inspiration and hope, Spotlight giving center stage to unsung warriors for truth who understood telling the story right, without embellishment, without melodramatic editorial excess, was the greatest victory of them all.

[The screenwriters] understand Laney on a deeply personal, exhaustively intimate level, thus the place they leave her story at might not be heartwarming but it sure as heck ends up feeling real. I Smile Back might not rewrite the addiction or mental illness melodrama rule book but that doesn’t make it less affecting, Silverman’s spectacular performance alone making the price of a ticket well worth spending.

Inside Out is a masterpiece. It’s one of the 2015’s best films. It’s one of Pixar’s best films. What else is there that I need to say?