A sprawling generational epic that left me in the theater silently gobsmacked, La Bola Negra is a boldly ambitious masterwork of unparalleled imagination and emotional fortitude.

“Cat, hat, In French, chat, chapeau. In Spanish, el gato in a sombrero…”

Godzilla Minus Zero roars to life with a perceptive ferocity not soon to be forgotten.

It’s an impenetrable muddle, and this doesn’t just make Klara and the Sun disappointing, but, even worse, an insufferably twee disaster as well.

Whalefall is an emotional, heartrending ride that builds to a suitably explosive climax.

But seeing isn’t always understanding. Don’t let the title fool you.

Sorkin’s Facebook diatribe is all over the map, and the more I keep thinking about The Social Reckoning, the more I’m second-guessing hitting that “like” button.

Verity is a frustrating waste of potential. Worse, it’s also a waste of time.

To paraphrase Hansen himself, so why not take a seat right over there? Even with all my misgivings, I’m glad I did; the uncomfortable shudders I had sitting through Primetime not about to vanish anytime soon.