After years of delays, abandoned trilogies, streaming spin-offs, and endless speculation about the future of the franchise, The Mandalorian and Grogu finally arrived as the first theatrical Star Wars feature in years. Directed by Jon Favreau and continuing the storyline launched in Disney+’s enormously successful The Mandalorian series, the film reunites audiences with Din Djarin, played once again by Pedro Pascal, and his tiny green companion Grogu, still affectionately known to much of the world as “Baby Yoda.” The supporting cast includes Sigourney Weaver, Jeremy Allen White, Brendan Wayne, and Lateef Crowder, while longtime franchise collaborator Dave Filoni co-wrote the screenplay with Favreau.

I almost skipped The Sheep Detectives entirely. The poster wasn't inviting. Neither was the premise. Animated CGI sheep that talk solve a murder mystery. Sounds like the type of movie that studios unleash upon theaters, complete with ear-shattering trailers, cheap laughs and a screenplay your patience tests while your kids bounce in their seats. The stellar cast didn't even sway me at first. We've all come to learn over the years that a great cast doesn't guarantee quality entertainment. Then something happened that caught my interest.

When so many movies are defined by explosions, sneers, and resurrecting decades-old franchises, Remarkably Bright Creatures dares to be something we see far too rarely these days: a heartfelt film unafraid to embrace feeling, compassion, and gentle human interaction. Directed by Olivia Newman and based on Shelby Van Pelt’s bestselling novel of the same name, Remarkably Bright Creatures had all the ingredients to easily turn maudlin or gimmicky. Particularly because its main storyline centers around the unlikely friendship between a curmudgeonly widow and a giant Pacific octopus. Instead, Remarkably Bright Creatures manages to become one of the most emotionally rewarding films of the year, buoyed by a transcendent performance by Sally Field and a truly compassionate ensemble that fully understands what’s at stake with this material’s balance of sadness, comedy, and optimism.

Vladislav Kozlov’s Silent Life: The Rudolph Valentino Centennial Final Cut is not your typical Valentino biopic, nor does it aim to be one. Although it does purport to tell the real story of Rudolph Valentino, the film is much more personal than that. Dubbed hypnotic by some viewers, Silent Life plays less like a straightforward account of Valentino’s life than a fever dream recalling the legacy of cinema’s first movie sex symbol. With no real interest in historical timelines, the film drifts through the spiritual remnants of a star whose hold on our collective imagination has proven somewhat timeless. Making its rounds through the festival circuit, and appearing at the Cannes Marché du Film, during May 12-20, 2026, Silent Life stakes its claim as part-history lesson, part-meditation.

Two decades after changing how fashion looked on film forever, The Devil Wears Prada 2 (2026), arrives not simply as a sequel to the wildly popular film, but as a reflection on time—time that has passed, time that was lost and time that won't stop for even the greats. Written again by Aline Brosh McKenna and directed by David Frankel, the cast from the original returns featuring Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt and Stanley Tucci along with a host of new talent. The story acknowledges from its opening frames, that the world of glossy magazines—and the power structures behind them—has fundamentally changed.

There is a certain expectation that comes with a documentary centered on a First Lady—particularly one as enigmatic and carefully managed as Melania Trump. One expects revelation, context, perhaps even contradiction. Instead, Melania (2026), directed by Brett Ratner, arrives as something far more elusive and, ultimately, far less satisfying: a glossy, expensive exercise in image control that reveals almost nothing about the woman at its center.

Antoine Fuqua’s Michael arrives less as a conventional biography than as a massive, estate-approved act of cinematic resurrection: polished, expensive, musically electrifying, and deeply controlled. The film, written by John Logan and produced by Graham King with Jackson estate figures John Branca and John McClain, follows Michael Jackson from his Jackson 5 childhood through his solo superstardom and the Bad era, stopping before the later allegations and scandals that would permanently complicate his public legacy. Jaafar Jackson, Michael’s nephew and the son of Jermaine Jackson, makes his film debut in the title role, with Juliano Krue Valdi playing the young Michael, Colman Domingo as Joe Jackson, Nia Long as Katherine Jackson, Miles Teller as attorney John Branca, and Laura Harrier as Suzanne de Passe.

Every year there is at least one movie that becomes a love-it or hate-it phenomenon. People will walk out of theaters wondering what they just watched and talk about it for years to come. Bugonia was that movie for 2025. The film, a weirdly hilarious sci-fi thriller from provocateur director Yorgos Lanthimos, was nominated for four Oscars including Best Picture. Continuing Lanthimos's body of work that explores the absurdity of people, paranoia, and moral ambivalence, Bugonia was perhaps predictable for people who have seen his previous works with Emma Stone Poor Things and The Favourite. The film represents another bold and unsettling cinematic experiment.

Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights is a lavish, hot-blooded, frequently arresting piece of gothic showmanship—one that often looks like it cost a fortune to photograph and sometimes feels as if it spent that fortune on sensation rather than the slow poison of Brontë’s tragedy. The film, released by Warner Bros., casts Margot Robbie as Catherine Earnshaw and Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff, with Hong Chau as Nelly Dean, Shazad Latif as Edgar Linton, and Alison Oliver as Isabella Linton.

Some movies wow you with their technical prowess. Others sneak up on you and remake you: subdued works of art that know there’s something that can’t be said but won’t let you forget it either. Joachim Trier’s Sentimental Value is one of the latter. An exquisitely felt and fluidly beautiful family drama, the film explores the reverberations of emotional trauma across generations, how psychic pain is inherited and reformatted, beautified, and—occasionally—weaponized. The result is a moving, powerful film that doubles down on both sentiment and beauty.

Few ironies exist in Hollywood culture like the experiences of prestige films that open weekend to discover that moviegoers have vastly misunderstood the product they are seeing. Paul Thomas Anderson's latest epic, One Battle After Another (2025), has experienced something few films achieve today: widespread critical acclaim — it's as richly ambitious and vital as any movie this year, angry, witty, and brimming with technical wizardry—while failing to find a wide audience who either didn't come out to see it, or weren't quite sure what it was they were coming to see.

Hamnet, directed by Chloé Zhao (Nomadland), is a film adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s novel, focusing on the aftermath of personal loss experienced by William Shakespeare and his family. The movie quietly and poignantly captures the emotional and human aspects of their journey without being overshadowed by Shakespeare’s literary legacy. Instead, Zhao emphasizes the themes of loss and recovery following a tragedy, creating a film that is quieter, softer, and profoundly alive.