Luke Parker

Any misgivings bestowed upon Ford V Ferrari by the script are, more or less, eliminated by the film’s big draw: the racing. Gloriously calibrated, simply designed, and modestly edited, audiences are reminded of the dynamite, nearly natural relationship automobiles share with filmmaking.

The Irishman is delicately handled by experienced, especially-inspired makers. It’s simply the kind of film that isn’t made too often anymore; and it’s one of the best this year has to offer.

Dolemite Is My Name belongs to Murphy.

A simple and simply satisfying seal, El Camino: A Breaking Bad Movie will, in no way, tarnish the alchemic legacy of its TV precursor, though it doesn’t do much to enhance it.

Edward Norton mines political relevance in some areas of noir-drenched New York and completely ignores it in others. As a result, Motherless Brooklyn becomes Chinatown’s outshined, ugly stepbrother.

Blazingly and brilliantly over the top, Jojo Rabbit’s total dismissal of subtlety is its most ferocious ally and, only occasionally, its most frustrating foe in the war against hate.

Every typical category of film analysis – the performances, the cinematography, the score, the wit, so on and so forth – needn’t be labeled as anything less than great.

Elegant and entrapping, muddy and magnificent, Monos is a thrilling, if ambiguous endeavor of guerilla warfare, human nature, and adolescent anarchy.

Between the split bones and compulsive carnage, a disjointed script, co-written by Stallone and Matthew Cirulnick, makes Rambo: Last Blood mindless and messy.

As a timely testament to our willingness to validate and support rather than investigate, White Lie is both insightful and terrifying.

While it takes a few too many cues from similar coming-of-age tales, Honey Boy offers audiences an egoless dissection of Shia LaBeouf’s side of his own story.

A rebirth for both actor and director, Pain and Glory sees Banderas and Almodóvar at the peak of their electric, heart-wrenching capabilities.

Any hint of sappiness in the neighborhood is squashed by Hanks’ paralyzingly delightful turn as Mister Rogers in A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood.

A macabre masterpiece, Joker’s social relevance may be disputed for years, but the film and its star may never be denied the grandeur of their cinematic revolution.

For 130 minutes, the writer-director disorients and delights, confidently trailblazing through his murder mystery two, maybe even three steps ahead of the audience. This isn’t a simple, direct testament to the slick, sidesplitting script, nor the fully committed, second-to-none ensemble, but rather a passed inspection of these cogs and their ability to form a purely entertaining experience.

The Lighthouse boasts and thrives off of a maritime rap battle between Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattison, whose claustrophobic journey together towards madness is among the sickest and most memorable collaborations in recent memory.

The Banana Splits Movie is a peculiarly fresh nostalgia trip and has just the right amount of gore to make this otherwise by-the-numbers slasher a surprisingly amusing experience.

Good Boys successfully exploits a newfound ground between crudeness and innocence, but nearly runs it dry.

Once Upon a Time in…Hollywood is a wistful fantasy fueled by a series of top-grade performances, a stampeding collage of Tarantino-isms, and of course, a happy slathering of movie magic.

Nearly every aesthetic decision that went into this version of the The Lion King detracts from the artistry and the heart that helped its predecessor surpass immortality.

Ari Aster continues on as filmmaking’s ringleader of grief in Midsommar, an unsettling, often shocking portrayal of cultic life that’s rich with both ambition and beauty.

Yesterday’s lackluster, underwritten script both births its golden egg concept, and also restrains it from ever reaching the next level of sophistication or interest.

Toy Story 4 is as mediocre a Toy Story movie as there is and probably can be, but it also marks another unbelievable triumph at Pixar in their never-ending quest to realize the imagination.

With a greener blend of heart and humor, Shaft safely ushers in the vigilante detective for modern audiences, though safety never seemed to be a factor before.

A fantasy in nearly every sense of the word, Rocketman reaches for and grabs hold of the stars so often that the dazzle occasionally becomes too much to handle.

Olivia Wilde’s directorial debut bursts outward with neon electricity, encompassing, even if overcooking, the teenage tropes levied by similar films of the past, while also staying deeply rooted in the here and now.

Charlie Says may not reach deep enough into the horrors that birthed the Manson Family, but as an exhibit of pathetically prophetic garble used to dehumanize and control women, it’s attentive and provocative.

Extremely Wicked wobbles between its two best, but unfortunately, contrasting features: Efron’s eerily seductive performance, and the psychological experience of loving a camouflaged monster.