But it is the eloquent emotional dynamism of del Toro’s handling of the material that carries the day, The Shape of Water not just a love letter to classic monster movies of old, but also an important addition to the dialogue concerning social responsibility, gender dynamics and the human condition we all need to be having right this very second.

Thanks to Storaro, it all certainly looks terrific, and with an acting trio as wonderful as Winslet, Temple and Belushi, the majority of the performances certainly aren’t anything to scoff at. But Wonder Wheel is disagreeably monotonous no matter how strong these various elements might prove to be, Allen’s latest an unremarkable trifle I could honestly care less about.

By channeling his inner Tommy Wiseau, James Franco manages to craft an intentional comedic sensation out of an unintentionally hilarious failure, The Disaster Artist rising to a level of genuine greatness that’s astonishing.

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.