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A heist movie that is gripping and badass, elegant and assured. You could ignore all the social-justice-warrior stuff and just enjoy this as a popcorn thriller. But what makes this so special is how it reexamines the genre’s clichés.
Smart, gritty-stylish indie science fiction that is actually about ideas, and about building a future world that is authentic and lived-in. It has a really memorable teen-girl protagonist, too, who is badass but still a real kid.
Simultaneously sharp and tender portrait of longstanding family squabbles and resentments finally coming to a head. Achingly affecting performances and poignant details ground it in melancholy authenticity.
A minor fan-fiction take on the franchise’s mythology: Hey, maybe middle-aged Laurie Strode likes guns LOL? Nowhere near as feminist or as psychologically incisive as it thinks it is. And it’s not even scary.
This tale of a teenaged girl’s crossing the boundary from childhood to too-early adulthood, simultaneously a portrait of a society quietly yet inexorably collapsing, has a disturbing power that sneaks up on you.
A wholly remarkable film, just barely fictionalized from the lives of its cast of nonprofessional actors, about the indomitable spirit of the women of East Africa. Pili’s life isn’t unrecognizable to women worldwide, though.
A self-indulgent, faux-woke mashup of noir crime, black comedy, and Tarantino-esque ultraviolence. Some great performances, including a spectacular feature debut from Cynthia Erivo; shame they’re so wasted.
Instantly sweeps us up in its passion, its electricity, its music, and characters to fall in love with. Lady Gaga is a revelation. It’s impossible to believe Bradley Cooper has never directed before. I adore this movie.
Hail Mary, full of rage. Mary Elizabeth Winstead is utterly incendiary in this own-worst-enemy dramedy that gender-flips a tired genre to give angry new voice to a woman speaking her own truths.
This modern update of the beloved classic novel is embarrassingly misjudged, so earnest and on-the-nose a transfer to today that the March sisters feel not like modern girls but odd, out-of-step transplants from another time.
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