How to Make a Killing latest is dead on arrival.

While there’s plenty about the director’s latest I could nitpick, the honesty that fuels Jimpa is striking, as are the electrifying performances from Colman and Mason-Hyde. I was moved.

Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights” is like some crazed, hyperactive, colorfully masochistic music video interpretation, complete with pulse-pounding technopop interludes courtesy of chart-topping superstar Charli XCX.

Wild, weird, and overflowing in rich ideas, The Bone Temple is a deliciously nasty soliloquy of birth, death, and resurrection that begins like some tragically austere Puccini operetta only to climax with death metal majesty like it’s the most raucous Iron Maiden concert ever staged.

A Private Life is a lot of fun to watch.

The Housemaid is such gloriously smarmy and snarky fun that even the bits that don’t work so well aren’t a big deal.

If a picture can be worth a thousand words, then Peter Hujar’s Day offers up 76 mesmeric minutes of them that are nothing short of priceless.

This may be the end of the world, but nothing about it made me feel fine. I found Bugonia to be an unrelentingly miserable journey into pessimistic darkness, its viscerally sardonic malice more than I could bear.

If I Had Legs I’d Kick You is nothing short of unforgettable.