Everytime is a profound and deeply touching film about the emptiness that remains after losing someone unexpectedly. Sandra Wollner approaches grief with tenderness and empathy, building toward a devastating final act that will stay with you for a long time.

Sandra Hüller gives one of her best performances in Rose, but Markus Schleinzer surrounds her with a strong cast, striking black-and-white cinematography, and a story that grows increasingly painful. It is concise, surprisingly funny, and ultimately devastating.

Godzilla Minus Zero delivers tremendous monster action, nearly flawless effects, and some of the best kaiju spectacle put on screen. Unfortunately, the human drama surrounding those moments feels considerably thinner than it did in Minus One.

DreamWorks throws almost everything animation can do at Forgotten Island, creating a frantic and visually dazzling adventure. The result is enormously creative, even when the constant stream of characters and ideas begins to overwhelm the emotional story underneath.

Digger is a messy but fascinating satire, elevated by Tom Cruise, Riz Ahmed, and terrific production design. Its politics may be obvious, and it is certainly not as funny as it thinks it is, yet the film finds a compelling argument in the role of satire itself.

Alex Liu’s God Bless You, Mr. Kopu starts as an amusing story about an insecure Tongan immigrant learning how to sell cleaning products that steadily develops into a clever and effective thriller. Simon Rex is perfectly cast, but it is Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi who gets the most satisfying arc.

Verity embraces the absurdity of Colleen Hoover's novel and tries to revive the glossy erotic thrillers of the 1990s. Anne Hathaway has some fun with it, but cheap mysteries, weak characters and increasingly ridiculous twists leave the film neither sexy nor thrilling.

Yeon Sang-ho finds interesting angles on artificial intelligence in Paradise Lost, particularly through a mother who becomes attached to a virtual version of her missing son. There are flashes of an excellent thriller here, but much of that potential is wasted by an increasingly absurd screenplay.

Being Heumann has an extraordinary story, strong performances, and admirable intentions, particularly in its large ensemble of disabled performers. Yet Siân Heder shapes the material into such a familiar inspirational drama that the people themselves occasionally disappear inside the formula.

Possible Love finds complex ways to explore class, envy, and the desire to possess what others have. Lee Chang-dong’s patient approach eventually pays off, although a repetitive first half keeps the film from reaching its intended impact.

Sung Kang pours his heart into Drifter, a deeply personal love letter to drifting shaped by his own experiences of loneliness and invisibility. Unfortunately, weak performances, painfully simplistic dialogue, and a 147-minute runtime make that sincerity increasingly difficult to appreciate.

Hur Jin-ho transforms a complicated chapter of South Korean history into a gripping political thriller, confidently juggling an assassination, conspiracy, journalism and government pressure without losing momentum. The characters may be less memorable than the investigation itself, but the unfolding mystery keeps getting more fascinating.

Onwards and Sideways approaches Parkinson’s with warmth, humor and genuine compassion, finding its strongest moments in the relationship between Rhys Ifans and Laura Linney. A rough opening and an overly gentle approach keep it from going much deeper, but the performances make the journey worthwhile.

Paolo Strippoli turns the Faustian bargain into a wealthy family nightmare, with gorgeous imagery, nasty twists, and a hypnotic Valeria Bruni Tedeschi. It loses some urgency as it goes, but there is too much style and personality here to ignore.

Robert Pattinson stars as Chris Hansen in Lance Oppenheim’s dramatization of the rise and fall of To Catch a Predator , following the show as its enormous success turns its host into a celebrity and pushes the production toward increasingly questionable choices. Pattinson is terrific, bringing humor and unpredictability to Hansen, while Oppenheim gives the film the uneasy rhythm of a thriller. Yet its critique of television, exploitation, and spectacle rarely digs much beneath the surface.

An Iraq War veteran seeks out the Iraqi family whose lives he shattered years earlier, hoping to make amends for what happened. Reed Van Dyk's thoughtful drama approaches guilt and forgiveness with genuine empathy, even if its American perspective limits some of its reach.

Andrew Haigh follows a young man searching for his missing mother through the Colorado Rockies while uncovering years of family resentment, guilt, and unspoken desire. The larger scale produces some of the director’s most ambitious filmmaking, but the characters and performances remain so muted that the emotions rarely break through.

Hirokazu Kore-eda adapts Tatsuki Fujimoto’s manga about Fujino and Kyomoto, two lonely young artists whose shared obsession with drawing develops into a friendship and creative partnership spanning thirteen years. Extremely faithful to the source while still unmistakably a Kore-eda film, Look Back is warm, delicate, and beautifully observed, despite its needlessly extreme tragic turn.

Brad Pitt and his retired combat dog struggle through the Alaskan wilderness in David Ayer’s return to more physically grounded filmmaking. The survival material is convincing and often intense, while Uber gives an extremely affecting animal performance, though repetitive flashbacks and an opening that reveals too much keep the film from trusting its strongest instincts.

Danny Boyle recounts the rise of The Sun with his usual restless cameras, frantic montages, an equally hyperactive score, providing enough visual tricks to make its two hours fly by. Jack O’Connell gives what may be a career-best performance as Larry Lamb, with Guy Pearce making an excellent Murdoch opposite him, but beneath all that energy is a surprisingly straightforward screenplay that rarely proves as daring as Boyle’s filmmaking.

Helen Mirren plays Patricia Highsmith opposite Alden Ehrenreich as a young representative from her publisher sent to convince her to write one final Tom Ripley novel. Their increasingly hostile and playful battle of wits is far more entertaining than the fictional murder story they create together, while Anton Corbijn gives the material enough visual flair to keep things moving even when the twist becomes obvious far too early. Mirren has a blast tearing through the dialogue, Ehrenreich matches her beautifully, making you wish he was cast as the next Tom Ripley.

Guy Nattiv draws from his own grandmother’s story for this drama about a depressed Holocaust survivor who leaves her family after falling under the influence of a charismatic younger woman and her secluded community. Told across two timelines, The Liberation remains constantly absorbing, with Carrie Coon and Bella Ramsey giving some of their best film work to date. Its mysteries are ultimately more compelling than its examination of the cult itself, making for a consistently watchable film that is not particularly insightful.

Florian Zeller's Bunker follows Javier Bardem and Penélope Cruz as a married couple already drifting apart when an intrusive neighbor and a lucrative offer to build a billionaire's survival bunker add even more pressure to their relationship. Bardem and Cruz are fantastic together, finding small, believable details that make the marriage feel lived-in, but the script repeatedly spells out its ideas to the point that characters stop feeling like real people.

Martin McDonagh sends John Malkovich and Sam Rockwell to Easter Island as two longtime CIA partners confronting death, friendship, and decades of moral compromise. Wild Horse Nine may often feel like a spiritual redo of In Bruges, but McDonagh's more mature approach to loneliness and politics makes those familiar steps well worth retracing.

Elsinore follows Ian Charleson during the final months of his life as he battles AIDS while taking on his dream role of Hamlet at the National Theatre. Andrew Scott gives a committed and often affecting performance, particularly in the film’s quieter moments, but Simon Stone surrounds him with montages, an overwrought score, and increasingly manufactured emotional beats. The result is a technically accomplished biopic that spends so much time chasing awards season moments that Charleson, his Hamlet, and the extraordinary sacrifice behind it begin to feel secondary.

Amanda Seyfried and Scoot McNairy lead Tim Blake Nelson’s story of a prison teacher who forms an increasingly complicated connection with a convicted murderer through his writing. It is a confidently directed and often powerful drama, but one that tells Wilson Shedd’s story without ever quite getting at who he truly is.

The Zellner brothers deliver a deadpan comedy about six aliens who arrive on Earth convinced they are above humanity, only to become increasingly frustrated and fascinated by everything that comes with being human. A terrifically committed ensemble cast keeps the absurdity funny and endearing, even as it starts to overstay its welcome.

Prima Facie has important things to say, but its message comes across as preachy and uncinematic. In the translation from a one-woman play into a conventional feature film, it loses the creativity and uniqueness of its source. It doesn’t feel overly stagey but awkward nonetheless. What remains is the important subject and an inconsistent and distractingly self-aware performance from Erivo.

Once Upon a Time in Harlem brings together the voices of the artists and intellectuals who lived through and helped shape the Harlem Renaissance, creating an intimate firsthand account of an extraordinary period in American history. It is a remarkable historical document, preserving painful memories of discrimination while also celebrating the extraordinary Black artists and intellectuals who helped transform American culture.

Cody Fern’s Closing Night follows an estranged family reunited around a Broadway premiere just as Sarah Paulson’s actress receives a devastating Alzheimer’s diagnosis. The result is a wildly uneven mix of genuine heartbreak, ridiculous soap opera melodrama, and unintentional comedy, held together largely by Paulson and an excellent Dianne Wiest.

Lauren Miller Rogen’s Babies follows a longtime couple who still have not decided whether they want children, even as everyone around them seems to have made that choice already. Seth Rogen and Anna Kendrick make an easy pairing, and the film is amiable enough, but its conversations about parenthood, marriage, and adulthood rarely push beyond the familiar.

Chris Rock’s Misty Green follows a former Emmy winner desperately searching for a Hollywood comeback after years of being discarded by the industry. Rosalind Eleazar commands the screen, but Rock’s troubling treatment of her character undermines the very prejudices the film wants to criticize.

Mahershala Ali plays a Muslim hitman suddenly left to raise three children after the death of his wife, forcing him to question his faith and work. Bassam Tariq’s film is highly ambitious, raising fascinating questions, but ultimately struggling to tie them into an emotionally engaging whole.

Jesse Eisenberg returns to his community theater roots in a comedy about a shy housewife who discovers freedom onstage. In its best moments, The Debut is hilarious and unpredictable, with Julianne Moore and Paul Giamatti in terrific form, but its carefully constructed emotions keep the film from fully capturing the transformative power of theater.

Peter Farrelly’s I Play Rocky follows Sylvester Stallone from struggling actor to the stubborn force who refused to let anyone else play Rocky. The film can be sanitized and by-the-numbers, but Anthony Ippolito is so convincing, and the familiar story is told with such earnestness, that it becomes genuinely rousing in its own right.

Love of Your Life wastes Margaret Qualley on an emotionally dishonest story of grief built on convenient tragedy and easy forgiveness.

Louise Bagnall’s Julián brings Jessica Love’s picture book to life with warm animation and effective humor, but its simple story feels stretched across 85 minutes.

Jonathan Schey’s Everybody Wants to F*ck Me turns a performative nice guy’s dating fantasy into a nightmare as women suddenly become dangerously obsessed with him. Taron Egerton keeps the increasingly ridiculous ride entertaining, but this timely satire never goes far enough with its concept to say much about the men it wants to expose.

Niki Byrne’s The Julia Set follows a gifted mathematics student trapped in a toxic relationship. Chase Infiniti brings nuance to a film whose blunt screenplay ultimately does its important subject a disservice by simplifying the manipulation and toxicity it wants to explore.

Werner Herzog’s Bucking Fastard follows inseparable sisters Jean and Joan, played by Kate and Rooney Mara, as their search for love and belonging leads them from public ridicule to an obsessive attempt to dig through the Irish mountains toward an imagined destination. Herzog’s peculiar fable can be amusing, bizarre, and frustrating within the same scene, but the Maras are fantastic, making its endless search for fulfillment deeply touching.

Joshua Giuliano’s feature debut opens TIFF’s Midnight Madness with three estranged siblings reuniting after their father’s death, only to find themselves stranded on a remote river and hunted by a masked killer. River delivers gnarly kills, tense chases, and terrific performances from Jane Levy and Jessica Rothe, even if you wish it had a little more ambition beyond the familiar slasher formula.

The Housewife follows a reporter investigating a Queens housewife hiding a horrific past as a Nazi concentration camp guard, played by none other than Naomi Watts. She commits completely, but a dreadful screenplay reduces a fascinating true story to shallow Oscar bait, manufactured drama, and laughable theatrics.

Theo Rhys’s Stuffed follows a lonely man who agrees to let an eccentric taxidermist preserve his body after death, only for their unusual arrangement to develop into a romance. Told through original musical numbers, it has all the ingredients for a wonderfully macabre, moving love story about finding life through an obsession with death, but bland songs, miscast leads, and a lack of creativity leave this promisingly strange film without much of a pulse.

In the Heart of the South turns artistic guilt into an unflinching self-takedown as Nyla Innuksuk questions her cultural identity and the ethics of building art from someone else’s story.

Toy Gun Bandit follows an obnoxious teenager into an unlikely life of bank robbery, with entertaining results that fall short of its potential.

Mike Leigh’s Tender Loving Care finds warmth in friendship and the simple act of being there for others, but its exploration of dementia and social work feels surprisingly slight and emotionally distant.

Paul Greengrass’ The Uprising recreates the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381, when thousands marched toward London to challenge the exploitation of England’s ruling class. Shot with Greengrass’ familiar handheld immediacy, the film convincingly recreates the mud, violence, and physical reality of a rebellion forming, with Woody Norman’s unpredictable young Richard II providing its most compelling character. Yet the relentlessly dour approach, thin characterization, muted Andrew Garfield performance, and fixation on the mechanics of the revolt leave it strangely inert, unable to capture the collective anger, shared identity, and eventual hope that could make this story stirring.

Adam Wingard returns to his genre roots with Onslaught, a 1970s- and 1980s-inspired pastiche following a broken Army veteran as she protects her daughter from genetically engineered super-soldiers. The film understands what made its influences so effective, patiently setting its pieces in motion and building considerable anticipation. Unfortunately, the action that follows is surprisingly tame, repetitive, and ultimately uneventful, wasting several compelling ideas and a committed performance from Adria Arjona.