Casey Affleck gives a quietly devastating performance in the gripping new drama Manchester by the Sea, the third film in 16 years from acclaimed director Kenneth Lonergan. Affleck plays Lee Chandler, a withdrawn Boston-based janitor who gets an unexpected call from a family friend in northern Massachusetts with the news that Lee’s brother Joe (Kyle Chandler) has had a major heart attack. After making the hour-long drive up the state, Lee arrives to the news that his brother passed away during the trip and that he’s now responsible for taking care of his nephew Patrick (Lucas Hedges), who lives close by in the city from which the film takes its title.

This raises a problem for Lee, not only because he feels estranged from Patrick after years of little to no contact with his family but also because looking after him would seem to require Lee to relocate to his hometown. As Patrick points out, Lee’s living situation is much more malleable as he lives in a small one bedroom apartment and handywork can be done anywhere but it’s not that simple. A tragedy in his past has made him a pariah in the community and the sight alone of his now re-married ex-wife Randi (Michelle Williams) is almost too much for him to bear.

Lonergan uses a unique flashback structure to reveal the circumstances through which Lee was cast into a self-imposed exile, both in the physical and psychological sense. This is the first film of Lonergan’s that I’ve seen and it’s clear that he’s a very deliberate and precise filmmaker, one who trusts the audience to keep up with the artistic decisions (especially those involving the editing) that he’s making. He’s also a director that allows his actors to dig deep within the nuances of the writing (Lonergan also penned the original screenplay) and to create some truly stunning performances as a result.

Affleck has and will continue to receive praise for his work here (as well he should) but Hedges is every bit as revelatory in his role as a teenager who doesn’t quite know how to manage his reaction to the surprise death of his father. Life seems to go on, at least on the surface –he asks Lee if he can invite friends over and have pizza on the night of Joe’s passing — but it’s clear that his method of coping is in sharp contrast to Lee’s more insular approach. Patrick’s wicked sense of humor not only feels like a credible emotional response to such tragic events but it also gives this oppressively dour story a much-needed sense of relief.

Even with the jabs of dark comedy piercing through, Manchester is still a heavy sit and there will no doubt be some that find it more emotionally exhausting than traditionally “enjoyable”. The important thing is that it doesn’t feel like Lonergan is intentionally making these characters suffer endlessly for no reason; they feel like real people doing their best to battle valiantly with their grief. Bruising and resonant, Manchester by the Sea is a powerful piece that may deny conventional catharsis but does so on behalf of its richly authentic character work.

Fashion designer turned film director Tom Ford follows his moving debut A Single Man with this ambitious and multi-layered thriller that contains some thought-provoking story elements but can’t find a way to tie them together in a meaningful way. Nocturnal Animals, which Ford adapted from Austin Wright’s novel Tony and Susan, uses its story-within-a-story structure to tell a dark tale of betrayal and revenge that has a sumptuous sense of visual flair, even when the plot doesn’t always add up. It’s comprised of three separate narrative threads, each of which are well-acted and beautifully photographed but only two of which kept me engaged the entire time.

The one that didn’t could be described as the “main” storyline, which involves an art gallery owner named Susan (Amy Adams) who receives a manuscript for Nocturnal Animals, a novel penned by her ex-husband Edward (Jake Gyllenhaal) that he has dedicated to her. Troubled by her failing marriage with the unfaithful Hutton (Armie Hammer), Susan becomes obsessed with the story and stays up throughout the night tearing through page after page of the manuscript. She becomes desperate to find meaning within its tragic and violent contents, which spurs both flashbacks to her early days of happy marriage with Edward and a dramatized version of the novel.

It tells the story of family man Tony (also played by Gyllenhaal) and his wife and daughter as they travel across a largely vacant highway in West Texas during the middle of the night. Following a run-in on the road with a band of troublemakers led by their devious driver (a triumphantly creepy Aaron Taylor-Johnson), the group kidnaps Tony’s wife and daughter and leaves him abandoned in the desert. After Tony makes he way back into town, he partners with a no-nonsense detective (Michael Shannon, doing some excellent scene-chewing) to find the criminals and bring about justice at any cost.

This segment of the film is the most straight-forward and engrossing from a narrative perspective but it can sometimes feel at odds with the more conventional “present day” and flashback storylines. Part of this likely has to do with the seedy West Texas setting in contrast to the highbrow art scene of Los Angeles but the tone of the “fictional” passage is also much darker and more disturbing than the rest of the film. The lurid details of the story at the center of the film may be too much for some audiences but I found this core story to be more involving than off-putting.

What I expect more people to find off-putting are the bizarre and inexplicable opening credits, which depict numerous severely overweight women dancing in slow motion with sparklers, all while completely naked. I don’t necessarily have a problem with a provocative opening sequence in a film but if it doesn’t properly set the tone for the rest of the story and if the context given for it later on is unsatisfying, it just doesn’t do much good for the movie as a whole. Tom Ford clearly has some artistic instincts that can lead to some truly groundbreaking storytelling but Nocturnal Animals could have worked much better if he had reined in his vision a bit more.

Co-directors John Musker and Ron Clements are known for some of Disney’s most magical and memorable musicals (The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, The Princess and the Frog) and they’ve found success again with this exceedingly charming and gorgeous new computer-animated film. Moana is an example of the Disney “formula” working at its highest level, pairing original music that’s both clever and catchy with a story that is sophisticated enough to keep adults involved but also moves along at a pitch-perfect pace so as to not throw off any of the youngsters too. Also packed with loads of good natured humor, it’s a breezy and vibrant work sure to put a smile on the face of all who encounter it.

Set on the Polynesian island of Motunui, our heroine Moana (Auli’i Cravalho) is next in line to be chosen as the chief of her village but it seems that the ocean has larger plans in store for her. After receiving an ancient stone that is said to be the heart of a goddess, she learns of the demigod Maui (Dwayne Johnson) and seeks his help in returning the stone to its rightful owner. Moana and Maui’s adventures on the sea pit them against numerous adversaries like the coconut-shaped pirates called the Kakamora and an oversized crab named Tamatoa (Jemaine Clement), who looks like a bedazzled version of Sebastian from The Little Mermaid.

It’s no surprise that there’s an unmistakable Flight of the Conchords vibe to the crab’s slippery funk musical number “Shiny” and Dwayne Johnson gets some big laughs out of his equally conceited “You’re Welcome” but it’s not just the humorous songs that stand out. Rich and empowering group numbers like “Where You Are” and “We Know The Way” work as great character introductions and also move the plot along in a satisfying way. But it’s Moana’s signature tune “How Far I’ll Go” that will likely be competing for Best Original Song next Feburary and while it may not have the instant, chart-topping appeal of Frozen‘s “Let It Go”, it’s every bit as heartfelt and compelling.

Moana is Musker and Clements’ first CGI film and while the traditional hand-drawn animation of their previous work is no doubt admirable on its own terms, this is by leaps and bounds their best looking movie. The endless dazzling blue ocean, which not only serves as a beautiful backdrop for the action but also becomes a personified character in the story, is captured with the kind of lush precision that may not have been possible even 10 or 15 years ago. Other natural elements of fire and earth are invoked in similarly striking manner, especially in the climactic battle that pits our heroes against a molten monster who hurls fireballs that kindle the night’s sky.

What makes this film stand out most against its predecessors, though, is the progressive nature of its narrative, which eschews the tired Disney Princess cycle and instead portrays a female protagonist who isn’t searching for true love or a man to complete her life. This is a heroine who is smart, capable and clearly qualified enough to run her entire village, whose journey is one of self-discovery rather than societal obligation. It’s just one right step in a movie that takes many correct ones and after a year of one box office smash after another, Disney may have saved its best for last with the resounding achievement that is Moana.

The new heady sci-fi feature Arrival is the kind of film that’s difficult to completely take in after the first sitting and having a solidified critical reaction to it in such a short amount of time seems like a bit of a fool’s errand. Having seen it a few nights prior to this writing and also having a couple days for post-viewing reflection, I imagine a second go-round almost seems essential to properly evaluate it but it’s difficult to say which elements would be enhanced or be diminished from repeat viewings. What I can say is that this is one massively ambitious and confident piece of filmmaking that will inevitably divide audiences as they wrestle for specific forms of meaning within the story.

Amy Adams is profoundly affecting as Louise Banks, a linguistics professor who is called in by the US government to attempt communication with aliens aboard an extraterrestrial spacecraft that has mysteriously touched down in Montana. Joining her on the team is the cocky theoretical physicist Ian Donnelly (Jeremy Renner) and the critical Colonel Weber (Forest Whitaker), along with other members of the international scientific community who are simultaneously engaging the other eleven ships discovered in equally inexplicable locations across the globe. The remainder of the storyline revolves around Banks’ contact with the new visitors, as she attempts to learn why their ships are stationed at the seemingly random spots and why they have come to our planet in the first place.

I’m obviously playing coy with some of the larger reveals around the plot, as they’re much better for viewers to discover on their own, but suffice it to say that details from Banks’ personal life soon intermingle with her job of decoding these foreign alien messages. The method of communication that they use, a form of circular drawings that is not only brilliantly conceived but visually stunning in its complexity, seems to suggest that these lifeforms have a perception of time that exceeds the ability of humans. When this concept is applied to the narrative, it creates a sort of non-linear chronology that may seem confusing in the moment but seems to click right into place right before the film’s conclusion.

This is the fourth English language movie from French Canadian director Denis Villeneuve, who is responsible for last year’s excellent drug thriller Sicario, and it’s incredibly fulfilling to once again see his unique brand of challenging storytelling fused with a mid-budget, widely-distributed vehicle like this. He’s making the kind of creative leaps and bold narrative choices that someone like Christopher Nolan would incorporate in their films (yes, Arrival does have notes of Inception at its core) but he’s doing it with a fraction of the funds. Seeing him succeed so valiantly in the science-fiction genre is a comforting sign for those who are hotly anticipating his Blade Runner sequel next October, especially given how many franchise-extending films have disappointed in the past.

I would be remiss to neglect the efforts of cinematographer Bradford Young, who also recently shot Selma and A Most Violent Year and is further proving himself to be one of the most visionary DPs working today. His camera is both pensive and personal in its scope; his ability to capture both moments of grandeur and intimacy with the same level of focus and beauty is nothing short of remarkable. At a time when most movies seem to track two steps behind the audience instead of two steps ahead, Arrival is a most welcome arrival indeed.

This prequel to 2014’s critically reviled but financially prosperous Ouija shares the titular board game as the focal point of its premise but is markedly different in a few key areas that make it more promising from the outset. Instead of being set in present day, the action of Ouija: Origin of Evil takes place in the hazy, autumnal glow of 1967, a time that in retrospect feels much less cynical and inherently more superstitious than today. Rather than being subjected to a group of mindless teenagers who make one stupid decision after another, the story here centers around a mother and her two daughters who are capable and intelligent in ways that make them easy to root for and care about.

The mother Alice, played by Elizabeth Reaser, raises the daughters by herself after her husband’s life is cut short by a drunk driver and she’s able to make ends meet by hosting bogus séances in her home with the help of her oldest Lina (Annalise Basso) and her youngest Doris (Lulu Wilson). Eager to introduce a new prop into their routine, Alice picks up a Ouija board at the local store but disobeys the instruction to never conduct a reading while unaccompanied by others. Unbeknownst to her, the spirits that she’s conjured begin to work through Doris and possess her in a manner that will be familiar to anyone who has seen any supernatural horror movie of the past 50 years.

With his previous efforts Oculus and this year’s Netflix release Hush, director Mike Flanagan is a solid match for this kind of material and while he gets off to a great start with convincing characters and an enticing setting, the genre clichés inevitably begin to pile up and stifle the bits of originality that exist elsewhere. It’s as if Universal knew that since this was the only horror movie to be released around Halloween this year, it had to cover as much ground as it possibly could to appeal to the widest audience. Flanagan picks from the best bits of genre titans like House on Haunted Hill, The Exorcist, and Poltergeist with varying degrees of success.

These odes to the past are also accentuated by flairs of nostalgic showmanship that permeate the film, whether it’s the throwback title card complete with the “MMXVI” copyright at the opening or the faux-changeover cues that blip intermittently in the corners. In fact, the lighting and the set design inside the house is so striking in its authenticity that these somewhat gimmicky touches may not have even been necessary in the first place. The inclusion of computer-generated effects into the mix also dampens some of the charm of the simple practical effects like the Ouija planchette springing to life on its own.

The performances are uniformly believable and most importantly, the actors don’t succumb to the campy elements that crop up later in the narrative. Best of the performers is the youngest actress Lulu Wilson, who brings the perfect level of creepiness to her possessed character and gives the film its most chilling moment with her monologue describing the sensation of being strangled to an increasingly distressed house guest. Ouija: Origin of Evil is perfectly serviceable for those looking for a grab bag of well-staged jolts but might be disappointing to hardcore horror fans seeking a future classic for their Halloween rotation.