Angelina Jolie’s First They Killed My Father isn’t for the faint of heart. While lightness and love do enter the picture, mostly this adaptation of Ung’s best-selling 2000 memoir is an emotionally exhausting journey that strands the viewer in something akin to a constant state of shock.

Darren Aronofsky’s latest mind-bending, psychologically dense feature Mother! is an indescribable piece of lurid pulp fiction that has to be seen to be believed.

I’m ready to head back to Derry for the next chapter of this story right this second. The death lights are calling; floating into the theatre to give It a look an experience most won’t soon forget.

Bell is also unafraid to speak brutal, stark truths when the moment calls for them, finding humor in tragedy and pathos in merriment in ways that are continually inspiring. If I Do…Until I Don’t isn’t completely successful, that doesn’t mean it still isn’t without merit, and in the end becomes the type of small-scale independent comedy I could easily see myself warming up to more and more as time goes by.

The profound beauty of what happens during this last modern dance ballet encapsulates everything Müller and Preljocaj have been building towards flawlessly, ultimately making Polina the type of unexpected marvel that keeps me heading back to the theatre time and time again. I love this movie. More importantly, I cannot wait to see it again.

But Rapace is excellent as Alice, the original Lisbeth Salander bringing the same sort of energy, emotion and gravitas to Unlocked that she brought to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

“I hope that [Patti Cake$] can change somebody’s mind about what actors, what movie stars, can look and feel like. Changes their mind about what a popular movie can be. I get really excited if it can change some minds like that.”
– Geremy Jasper

Leap! showcases loads of potential, and no question its female-driven story of accomplishment and resilience has plenty of value. But neither of those elements is enough to overcome all of the missteps, the resulting film a substandard dance of aggravation that I’m still moderately upset about.

While I don’t think people should rush out and give The Only Living Boy in New York an immediate look, I certainly wouldn’t begrudge anyone from doing so if the opportunity to snag a cheap second-run matinee ticket might arise, Thomas’s story having just enough in the way of merit to warrant a cursory glance.