On Chesil Beach represents my early pick for Best Picture.

Adapting his own novella, Ian McEwan presents a heartbreakingly honest portrait of a newlywed couple and the qualities that tear them apart. Beautifully conceived by director Dominic Cooke and lensed by cinematographer Sean Bobbitt, its narrative layers naturally coalesce in this meditation on love, cultural mores, and personal sacrifice.

The chemistry between rising star Billy Howle and Saoirse Ronan—who has matured into the finest actress of her generation since she appeared in Joe Wright’s adaptation of McEwan’s Atonement—is palpable. They carry emotional weight capable of moving audiences to tears.

Anton Chekhov's play receives a serviceable, if slight, adaptation from Michael Mayer (A Home at the End of the World). He directs his ensemble cast with poise, allowing his camera to roam about the confined lakeside setting as if it were a fly on the wall. Although the film plays it safe, how the cast embody their roles is particularly captivating. Annette Bening is alternately vivacious and cruel; Saoirse Ronan is radiant; and Corey Stoll gives his best performance since his portrayal of Ernest Hemingway in Midnight in Paris. The rest of the cast add charm to this comedy’s delights.

Hey, Star Wars fan? Ever wonder where Han Solo got his name from? What’s that? Not once? Well, then it’s hard to know what to make of this year’s Star Wars [copyright Walt Disney Corporation, 2018], which offers us an answer to that question, and many others, we never asked. More pressing questions, such as how Han met Chewbacca, how he got the Millennium Falcon, and does Lando Calrissian fuck droids receive answers, to varying degrees of satisfaction. As an exploration of one of the most beloved film characters ever, it's not much, but as cosplay it’s fairly impressive.

Coralie Fargeat’s feature debut tackles the rape-revenge story with an assured style and precise direction. However, only so much one can done with this marginal genre. On the plus side, Matilda Lutz delivers a strong performance; the film is beautifully lensed with a color palette reminiscent of Mad Max: Fury Road; and gorehounds get their fill of over-the-top violence. Unfortunately, thrills are dampened throughout because Fargeat’s feminist slant utilizes overwrought symbolism and recycled boilerplate dialogue. As a result, Revenge doesn’t offer more than exploitation schlock like I Spit On Your Grave or more refined genre staples such as Ms. 45

I knew the Lord was testin me, but I also knew he had not abandoned me. I watched the trees grow shaggy and buds erupt. The colors and the insects returned. He was resurrecting the world yet again. And if he could do that, year after year after year, I knew I could go on.