Mickey 17 may not end up being the year’s best film, but it will undoubtedly become one of its most essential.

The Paddington movies are a cathartic jolt of kindness that the world could use more of right now.

Heart Eyes is the best romcom-slasher hybrid that I’ve ever seen.

. Even at a blink-and-it’s-over 83 minutes, it pains me to say it but Love Hurts is an agonizingly unappealing disaster.

There’s nothing robotic about Companion.

After another look, I’m starting to feel like we’re all going to look back on Joker: Folie à Deux and realize that collectively we got this one wrong.

Night of the Comet: Forty years later, the end of the world remains as satirically prescient as ever. Bitchin’, isn’t it?

Like the promising early days of the internet, Y2K’s only lasting legacy will likely be one smothered in disappointment and missed opportunity.

Queer is an ejaculatory descent into the unfinished humanistic unknown that’s probably unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I have a feeling Burroughs, if he were still around to see the finished film, wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.