I've loved a number of movies released over the past 10 months. But not since The Mitchells vs. the Machines have I been as over-the-moon in love with a movie the way I am with Everything Everywhere All at Once, which just might be the only sci-fi/martial-arts/time-travel comedy you'll ever see that also boasts an emotional power to make you cry – a lot.

There was literally nothing about the prospect of Morbius I was looking forward to, so I suppose it's almost a compliment to say that while I didn't enjoy director Daniel Espinosa's largely dull, grossly formulaic comic-book yarn, I didn't actively detest it, either.

With all due respect to Robert Zemeckis' funny/exciting achievement, which I have adored ever since mid-puberty, Romancing the Stone didn't have Brad Pitt in it. The Lost City may be repackaged goods, but those goods, at least this time around, are still remarkably fresh.

While there's considerable mystery in The Outfit's plotting, there's even more in its central character, and Mark Rylance's artistry makes Graham Moore's directorial debut the rare gangster saga that makes you grin wider and wider the scarier and nastier it gets.

If you're wondering whether the combination of long, dark, and aggressively serious applied to material we're all wa-a-ay too familiar with results in a boring movie, I'm happy to report that writer/director Matt Reeves' The Batman isn't boring. Quite the opposite: It's exhilarating – an unexpectedly scary and resonant work that doesn't invite comparisons to Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy so much as David Fincher's Zodiac and Seven.

What Joe Wright's Cyrano lacks in excitement is largely made up for in consistency of tone, and that would be a backhanded compliment at best if the tone weren't so consistently sincere, playful, touching, and romantic.

Dog is a friendly, sentimental dramedy in which Channing Tatum takes a road trip with a canine. The movie really only falters when it tries to be anything else.

Even if you've read the author's 1937 novel more than once – or have instant recall of the peerlessly eccentric 1978 readings of Peter Ustinov, Maggie Smith, Bette Davis, and company – there's still an awful lot here to enjoy.

Despite the rough language, physical peril, and copious nudity, this franchise extender is a family film. Its stunts are beyond crude, but its heart is unfailingly sweet.

This past weekend, I spent three-and-a-half hours watching movies in Iowa City. I also spent three-and-a-half hours reading movies in Iowa City.

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