The Wall is a dark descent into a psychological battlefield where the line between victory and annihilation is precariously thin, the final images a haunting hunting ground of intimidation and butchery I’ll not soon forget.

I don’t think either Guardians of the Galaxy films are particularly great, but they are a heck of a lot of fun, Vol. 2 so overflowing in passionate imagination taking my eyes off of it for even a single second proved to be impossible. Gunn’s vision continues to be the most inspired of any director currently working inside of Marvel’s universe, and like a dancing Baby Groot I’m pretty sure at this point I’d jive right along to any beat he chooses to lay down next.

A Dark Song is a beguiling terror that saves its best reveals right up until the end, the lines between good and evil, right and wrong, Heaven and Hell, hypnotically blurring until they practically no longer exist.

I wish I felt differently about Below Her Mouth. It pains me to extol so many of its virtues yet in the same breadth state I don’t think it’s all that worthwhile as cinematic entertainment.

Scherfig allows the unspoken to speak volumes, the reaction of a pair of random moviegoers showcasing the vitality of the cinematic image in a fashion that is pure, distinct and imperative. Catrin finds herself, discovers who she is, and in this discovery tells us something about ourselves, our dreams and what we can accomplish in this world as long as we have the courage and the fortitude to put ourselves out there to potentially fail.

Co-writing the screenplay with Pascale Ferran, with co-production by none other than the good folks over at Studio Ghibli, Dudok de Wit’s assured storytelling and direction allows this film to achieve a mesmerizing elegance that’s astonishing. The Red Turtle drifts in and out of time and space, offering up a number of ideas, concepts and metaphors that held me blissfully spellbound first frame to last.

Born in China fits into the Disneynature canon nicely, and while I personally wasn’t blown away by the film that doesn’t mean I still don’t hope parents take their little ones out to see it.

Wheatley builds things to what might just be the most satisfying final moment I’ve had the pleasure to witness so far this year, Free Fire a crackerjack maelstrom of creative madness that’s a full-throttle merry-go-round of machinegun excitement.

The Lost City of Z is a rapturous achievement worthy of discovery, its enigmatic brilliance of a sublime majesty unique in and of itself.