With only three feature documentaries to her credit thus far, Nanfu Wang has already established herself as one of the best nonfiction filmmakers of all time, and the wrenchingly personal and politically loaded One Child Nation is her finest and most important work yet.
Making an attempt to grow along with a fanbase that might’ve aged out of its source material, the live-action, family adventure-comedy Dora and the Lost City of Gold is a bit of a gamble, but one that pays off fairly well.
While The Art of Racing in the Rain lays the dramatic contrivances, manipulative narrative twists, and half-assed philosophizing on just as some other recent movies about wise, old dogs have, there’s no questioning that director Simon Curtis and screenwriter Mark Bomback have come up with a somewhat identical sounding story offered up in a vastly preferable, less patronizing manner.
The documentary Barbara Rubin and the Exploding NY Underground is as close as we’re likely to get to a genuine biography of one of cinema’s most elusive artists and psychologically toughest nuts to crack.
Leaving Home, Coming Home: A Portrait of Robert Frank is a documentary that has been completed since 2004, but it’s only seeing the light of day this year.
Fast & Furious Presents: Hobbs & Shaw doubles down on the silly stupidity that made its predecessors so memorable, while playing some of the franchise’s corniest and most groan worthy dramatic impulses for intentional laughs instead of the unintended sort.
Honeyland has become one of the most talked about documentaries of the year, and it’s not hard to see why.
An enriching and visually dazzling take on the traditional heist movie template, director and co-writer Alonso Ruizpalacios’ Museo boasts a fascinating, unusual, and frequently thrilling story that’s delivered by a young filmmaker operating at the top of his game.
David Crosby: Remember My Name is more brutally honest and moving than all of this year’s other music docs put together.
The lazy, predictable, and uninspired espionage thriller The Red Sea Diving Resort gets off to a start so horrifically flat and laughably laboured that most savvy moviegoers (meaning anyone who knows how a story should be told, framed, or executed) would probably shut it off within the first ten minutes. It never fully recovers.