Core and Wimmer don’t just make a bad movie, they make one so terrible it’s flabbergasting just how ghastly it actually is. Rarely have I ever wanted to walk out of a film before it was over. [Point Break (2015)] was one of those instances where I wished I could have done just that. You’ve been warned.

I cannot help but wish The Revenant was more than the sum of its undeniably glorious parts…Iñárritu’s latest is still justifiably marvelous on so many levels dismissing it out of hand just wouldn’t be right. As a feat of filmmaking chutzpah, it’s one of 2015’s most intriguing offerings, the Academy Award-winning director proving once again he’s one of the gutsiest, more imaginative and absurdly confident auteur’s working in Hollywood today.

[The Big Short] breaks down all that happened and took place but does so in ways that are easy to understand and simple to digest, bringing together a ragtag group of eccentrics who end up making off like bandits, even if they don’t exactly feel too good about doing so afterwards.

Problem is, little of it is clear. Worse, most of it gets drowned in so much guts and gore, not to mention irredeemably abuse and sexism, listening to it is close to impossible. The Hateful Eight has lots to love, but just as much to abhor, making it something an elegant enigma that’s as frustrating as it is impressive.

The Danish Girl understands sex and gender are not the same thing, and that the former isn’t a binary construct that only allows for two norms. The options are endless, and the fact the film not only embraces this, but celebrates it, makes it as important a piece of a cinematic entertainment as any to be released this year.

But Pell’s script, inspired in no small way by her own relationship with her own sister, is so smart, so genuine, as crazy as things might get the human saga at the center remains pure and realistically heartfelt no matter what. With Poehler and Fey working at such a high level, and with the laughs being as constant, and as massive, as they prove to be, Sisters is just a joy to behold, watching it a rambunctious riot I almost didn’t want to see come to an end.

What is learned, who is who and what is what, all of it matters, not just so much in regards to the greater picture as far as the new trilogy is concerned but also as it pertains to the narrative here. The filmmakers maintain remarkable focus, a singularity of purpose, doing yeoman’s work fleshing out Rey and Finn while also giving Solo an astonishing arc no fan of the series will ever be able to forget.

Haynes takes these themes and ideas and makes them sing, never losing focus as to who this story belongs to. Carol is a timeless, brilliantly realized drama that ranks up with there with the finest features the director has ever had a hand in crafting, the smile of recognition and understanding that closes things out an unforgettable celebratory stunner that shook me right to my very core.

As Moby Dick stories go, Melville’s book still stands head and shoulders above all the rest, John Huston’s 1956 adaptation with Gregory Peck a fine version of the story as well. In attempting to ground things in historical fidelity, Howard’s In the Heart of the Sea loses the human intimacy that makes this epic what it is, the resulting movie nothing more than an empty voyage to nowhere that sinks far more often than it swims.