The Only Living Pickpocket in New York exudes a lived-in quality from the very first frame to the last. It’s a movie grounded in brilliant texture and acutely tuned to the emotional spaces between the dialogue.

A masterclass about the cost of growing up, the terror of parenting, and the impossible, yet endearingly hopeful task of teaching a child how to survive a world that has already failed them.

Its flaws are loud, but so is its voice. And sometimes, that’s enough to make the mess worth wading through.

It may not match the sheer aesthetic audacity of last year’s reinvention, but it compensates by giving its performers space to drive the story and by pushing the franchise’s philosophical ambitions even further.

Neither film is exactly a classic, but taken together, they make for a fascinating snapshot of where modern creature features are at, or perhaps where they’re just forever destined to be.

It’s an emotionally intelligent take on the genre while still delivering the tense, horror-driven thrills that audiences expect from a zombie film.

This isn’t just a documentary about saving a building. It’s about saving spaces where art is allowed to be messy, confrontational, inclusive, and alive. A very hopeful way to start 2026.

Like Marty himself, the film is impressive, exhausting, and impossible to fully shake once it’s over. A prime example of a project firing on all cylinders.

Something angrier, more confident, and far more spiritually grounded than the series has ever been.

However you may end up feeling about the story, there’s no denying that, from the first frame to the last, you are completely transported.

An oddly earnest, often clumsy, occasionally compelling holiday slasher that never quite finds its identity.

Hailey Benton Gates' feature directorial debut fills a unique gap in the world of war and political satires.

This is Park operating at the height of his powers, delivering a thriller that’s as unpredictable as it is darkly funny, as emotionally bruising as it is formally immaculate.

It’s the kind of film that feels truly handcrafted; stitched together with an almost obsessive attention to detail, much like Victor’s own creation.

Even when I’ve admired his craft, I’ve never fully clicked with his wavelength the way some horror fans have. But ironically, his latest work, this year’s much-maligned Keeper, is the first of his films to pull me completely under.

While noticeably imperfect, Wright is clearly having a blast as he so often does in his films, and it's contagious.

Tons of inspired sci-fi action that moves with the confidence of someone determined to complicate and expand the mythology instead of coasting with it.

Bugonia is disgusting, hilarious, and impossible to shake. You’ll laugh, you’ll flinch, and days later you’ll still be thinking about everything you watched up on that screen.

Kathryn Bigelow’s most unabashedly popcorn thriller to date.