There's a lot happening in Seattle this weekend, but if you just want to immersive yourself in a movie and hide from the crowds, the heat, and maybe the Blue Angels, we've got you covered. Below, find all of our film critics' picks for the next few days, ranging from two documentaries about the sinister world of big money (Dark Money and Generation Wealth) to the 20th anniversary screening of The Big Lebowski to more opportunities to catch Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible — Fallout. Follow the links below to see complete showtimes, tickets, and trailers, and, if you're looking for even more options, check out our guide to the biggest and best movies this month, our complete movie times listings, or our film events calendar.
Movies play from Friday to Sunday unless otherwise noted.
Ant-Man and the Wasp
While Ant-Man and the Wasp is fun, funny, and exciting, it also runs the risk of being incomprehensible to those uninitiated in the ways of Marvel. The first Ant-Man, while it showed promise in casting Rudd as the gentle, dad-bod superhero we’ve been waiting for, fell flat in a number of places and wasn’t nearly as funny as it could’ve and should’ve been. (The underuse of Rudd’s awkward, sweet natural charm bordered on egregious.) But Ant-Man’s visual playfulness saved the day: A movie about a tiny Paul Rudd had a unique opportunity to show audiences micro and macro perspectives, opening a whole new world of creativity and comedy. Happily, Ant-Man and the Wasp follows through on that stuff and goes even further with scale-shifting action sequences. More importantly, this film uses Rudd exponentially better, giving him plenty of opportunities to be goofy and charming and Paul Rudd-y. SUZETTE SMITH
AMC Pacific Place & AMC Seattle 10
The Big Lebowski 20th Anniversary
If pressed to name my single favorite moment in my single favorite Coen brothers movie, The Big Lebowski, it would be a three-way tie between Jeff "the Dude" Lebowski's dumpster-bumping car crash, the sheriff's assault on the Dude with a coffee mug, and the Raymond Chandler–esque discovery of Jackie Treehorn's hard-on doodle. BRADLEY STEINBACHER
AMC Pacific Place
In rapidly gentrifying Oakland, Collin (Daveed Diggs) is trying to survive his last three days of probation when the slightest infraction will send him back to jail. However, his best friend Miles (Rafael Casal) is white, wild, and reckless. Collin should avoid Miles, but he doesn’t. While trying to get home before curfew late one night, he witnesses a rogue cop pursue and shoot a fleeing black man. CARL SPENCE
AMC Pacific Place & AMC Seattle 10
In 2010, the US Supreme Court declared that pumping corporate cash into elections is a form of free speech. We have been witnessing the consequences of the high court's Citizens United ruling ever since. But because so many of those consequences benefit Republican politicians, there can be a tendency to view opposition to Citizens United as primarily a leftist preoccupation. What's brilliant about Dark Money, a powerful documentary directed by Montana native Kimberly Reed, is how it proves the falsity of this notion by telling the story of Republican state lawmakers who found themselves in the crosshairs of a very effective dark-money blitz. It all makes the problem crystal clear: Corporate power is corrupting American democracy using massive contributions and complex voter-manipulation schemes at levels we've never seen before—levels that, to this day, we barely comprehend. It's a dynamic that hurts community-accountable Republicans and Democrats alike while helping only cosseted plutocrats. ELI SANDERS
SIFF Film Center
For reasons that are obvious, it’s not easy for a black American to play the villain in a film that has mostly white American actors and is directed by a white man. Many white Americans already think black men are natural-born villains, and the mainstream popular culture and media have a long history of portraying them as such. And so, the work of many black actors has been to counter this unfair and racist image. They have demanded and will only play roles that show blacks in a positive light. However, in 1993, black actor Wesley Snipes, who was then at his Hollywood peak and a long way from his tax troubles, decided to do the impossible and play a black baddie in a big-budget film. (A white man, Sylvester Stallone, plays the good guy.) This was a strange and fascinating twist. And though the film is not great, its racial experiment is very entertaining. CHARLES MUDEDE
Ugh, the agony of being a middle-schooler. Kayla is a quiet kid being raised by a single dad. She has no close friends and drifts through her school days not being noticed by anyone. She reaches out to the world through her inspirational YouTube videos (“The topic of today’s video is being yourself”), but nobody is watching. She desperately wants to connect, to be appreciated by someone who isn’t just her dad (“If people would talk to me at school, they would find out that I am really funny and cool and talkative”). This is the first feature film by writer/director Bo Burnham (a stand-up comedian and former teen YouTube sensation!), who refreshingly puts the adolescent girl perspective front and center, unfiltered by Instagram. All the problems of young teenhood are on display here: awkward social skills, skin problems, trying too hard, and feeling too much. Elsie Fisher as Kayla is both extraordinary and completely unremarkable. The film is funny and sad and excruciating and hopeful. Eighth grade is the worst; Eighth Grade the movie is wonderful. Winner of best film and best actress for Fisher at this year’s SIFF. GILLIAN ANDERSON
SIFF Cinema Egyptian & AMC Seattle 10
A deep dive into a life obsessed with cinema, this documentary focuses not on Stanley Kubrick but on his unsung right-hand man, Leon Vitali, who played a role in Barry Lyndon and went on to play virtually every kind of professional role for the notoriously tyrannical director—"casting director, acting coach, location scouter, sound engineer, color corrector, A.D., promoter, and eventually restorer of Kubrick’s films," according to publicity materials. It's a necessary antidote to auteur mythology, which credits nearly every aspect of the film to its director—or, at best, the director and screenwriter.
Lauren Greenfield (who made the critically praised The Queen of Versailles) takes a jaundiced and infuriating look at the unbelievably wealthy in China, Russia, and America, exploring how the pursuit of wealth warps everything for those who want to appear rich while lacking the means to buy luxuries. Glenn Kenny of RogerEbert.com called the documentary "compulsively watchable," but Scott Tobias of NPR criticized it for its "scattershot" approach.
SIFF Cinema Uptown
If you’re not comfortable with the very real possibility that you’ll be drenched in sweat and cowering in the fetal position by the end of Hereditary, perhaps this is one cinematic experience you should skip. But you’d be missing out—writer/director Ari Aster’s feature debut might be one of the most beautiful and nauseating horror movies ever made. Hereditary centers on miniaturist artist Annie Graham (an Oscar-worthy Toni Collette), whose family is rattled by mysterious events following the death of her reclusive mother. Her daughter, tween outcast Charlie (Milly Shapiro), is apparently grieving the hardest of them all—she spends her free time making dolls out of dead pigeons and always looks like she’s got a category five hurricane brewing inside her head. Hereditary is brilliant—the whole thing hums with cold electricity that’s guaranteed to unsettle your soul. Aster gracefully illustrates humanity’s ancient fear of predestined fate in a setting, and with a family unit, that feels deeply rooted in reality. It’s also a powerful reminder of the horror genre’s underutilized potential as a source for empathy—proof that it’s possible to uncover great truths about the human condition, so long as we’re willing to kneel down in the dirt and pick apart the rotting carcasses of our worst fears. Like Hereditary, it’s gross, but it’s worth it. CIARA DOLAN
AMC Pacific Place
Incredibles 2 simply isn’t as tightly tied together as the first. Its villain, the Screenslaver, isn’t as key to defining Elastigirl’s character as Syndrome was to Mr. Incredible’s in the first film—so when everything climactically comes together in the third act, Incredibles 2 ultimately packs a weaker thematic punch. This isn’t really a knock, though. What Incredibles 2 (slightly) sacrifices in cohesion and heart it makes up for with action and comedy. He opens Incredibles 2 with back-to-back set pieces that quickly put the previous film’s finale in the rearview; he closes the film with a team-based triumph that any three X-Men flicks combined couldn’t compete with; and when he goes for the gag (which is often), it feels like Chuck Jones-era Looney Tunes via classic-era Simpsons (which Bird himself helped make classic). Incredibles 2 isn’t as good or affecting as the first, but it is prettier, louder, faster, and funnier—and if you have to make a trade, that’s not a bad one. BOBBY ROBERTS
Indivisible: Love Knows No Borders
This timely film follows Renata, Evelyn, and Antonio—three Dreamers who were brought to the U.S. as young children, and whose families have since been deported. Today, they're working on petitioning for a special waiver that would allow them to leave the country to visit their families and legally return to the U.S., which is proving increasingly difficult under Trump's "zero tolerance" immigration policy.
Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom
I totally understand why people object to these films and their CGI manipulations, but I am helpless before the allure of plausible dinosaurs wreaking havoc on humans. I thought the original Spielberg ones were killer. I thought the Joe Johnston third sequel was killer. I thought the reboot Jurassic World was killer. And I think this new one, again starring Chris Pratt and Bryce Dallas Howard, both of whom I can usually live without, looks, guess what: killer. I love films with dinosaurs chasing and killing people. It’s what movies are for. SEAN NELSON
Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again
Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again is the most opposite of reality a movie can get. It is a universe of music and light and love, completely devoid of cynicism, hate, and ugliness. Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again is a musical filled with ABBA songs. It stars some of the most likable white people out there, including Amanda Seyfried, Christine Baranski, Colin Firth, and Cher. Lily James plays a young Meryl Streep, living her best late-1970s life and hooking up with tons of hot dudes. It's important to be engaged, but mental-health breaks are important, too, and while you could just silence your phone and try to ignore each news alert signaling our further descent into doom, it'll be much better to watch Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again and fully immerse yourself in pure, batshit joy. ELINOR JONES
Mission: Impossible – Fallout
What Mission: Impossible - Fallout brings to the table is the best action choreography I’ve seen since Mad Max: Fury Road and a serviceably twisty espionage plot. Functioning as a pretty direct sequel to 2015’s Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation, Fallout assigns Cruise’s Ethan Hunt and crew (Simon Pegg, Ving Rhames, and Rebecca Ferguson) a pretty standard “terrorists have nuclear bombs and that’s bad” scenario that gives them excuses to heist and fight and banter around Western Europe and Central Asia while dealing with an increasingly complex series of intelligence agency betrayals. But writer/director Christopher McQuarrie spoils a good thing by connecting a few too many vital plot threads to previous films in this decades-old, often-muddled series; even having recently rewatched Rogue Nation, I was still frequently baffled when characters started discussing the events of that film without context. In terms of pure action cinema, Fallout absolutely sings. Every punch cracks teeth, every bullet thuds against brick or body armor with a real sense of weight, and every stunt has a very real feel of risk to it. (Probably because there was.) BEN COLEMAN
Movies at the Mural: Get Out
Park your bum on some blankets in front of the Mural and see free, highly enjoyable movies, like Get Out (this week's film) and Wonder Woman. Each screening will be preceded by short films by Cornish students.
The Other Side of Everything
A woman who grew up in a Belgrade apartment and is now a grandmother tells the story of her life as a political radical—as captured by her filmmaker granddaughter. Fascinatingly, a door in the Belgrade apartment was locked and sealed for decades by the authorities, who occupied the space on the other side of the door and spied on the family. They could hear the sound when an eyehole opened that allowed the Communist government to look in on them, and certainly they were listened to as well. CHRISTOPHER FRIZZELLE
Northwest Film Forum
This 1981 Sean Connery space thriller might recall The Expanse to modern viewers. Miners on Io, a moon of Jupiter, start killing themselves and others in bizarre ways, and Marshal O'Neil decides to get to the bottom of it. His investigation turns up a deadly drug, a corrupt boss, and a terrifying plot.
All hail Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Better known as “RBG” to her fans (and “Bubby” to her grandkids), at 85 years old, the US Supreme Court justice still has a fierce intellect, a duty to the law, and an immense inner and physical strength. Over the long course of her career, RBG repeatedly defended the rights of everyone to live free from bias, but, as Supreme Court correspondent Nina Totenberg says, Ginsburg “quite literally changed life for women.” And she’s still doing it. With intimate interviews with family and friends, as well as RBG herself, the film captures the life of a woman with a heart none of us wants to stop ticking. KATIE HERZOG
SIFF Cinema Uptown
Sorry To Bother You
When hip-hop collective the Coup released their sixth album, Sorry to Bother You, front man Boots Riley, a former telemarketer and Occupy Oakland activist, described it as "a dark comedy with magical realism." That description applies equally well to his razor-sharp directorial debut. The title phrase, of course, is how telemarketers, like Cassius Green (Atlanta's and Get Out's Lakeith Stanfied), launch cold calls to potential customers. He's just a young dude trying to earn enough to graduate from his uncle's garage where he lives with his girlfriend, Detroit (Tessa Thompson), a performance artist in Julianne Moore-in-The-Big Lebowski mode. Riley grounds things in a loose semblance of reality before shit starts to gets weird. Every time Cash makes a call, marks (people on the other end of the line) hang up on him, so he tries on a Putney Swope-like white voice (voiced by David Cross in spectacularly geeky form). Marks love their unctuous new pal and buy crap they don't need, and Cash finally gets to ride the Mishima-inspired gold elevator to RegalView's top floor where the Power Sellers, a shallow gaggle of strivers, congregate. The more money he makes, the more of a jerk he becomes. If he's making more than he deserves, his first-floor colleagues, like Danny Glover's old-timer Langston, are making less, at which point a union organizer (Steven Yuen), the film's true hero, steps up to the plate. Riley's satire enters the nightmare realm of Lindsay Anderson's O Lucky Man!. Riley's ability to transfer his leftist politics intact from turntable to screen is truly miraculous. His film has a distinct look that ranges from pop-art bright to demonically dark, and Stanfield's lightly absurdist performance holds it all together. KATHY FENNESSY
Three Identical Strangers
What starts off looking like a standard issue Netflix doc about a zany family—replete with insulting reenactments and that creeping sense that you’ve just signed on for two hours with people who only think their story is worth telling—rapidly becomes one of the most complex, even shocking adoption stories you’ll ever hear. Short version: Within the space of a couple of days in 1980, three 19-year-old triplets who have never even heard of one another’s existence meet and become brothers, friends, and NYC media darlings. But the story of why they had never met—why, in fact, their existence was intentionally kept a secret—involves a conspiracy worthy of a psychological thriller. As the story unravels, you become astonished by the layers of complexity and injustice these three guys have experienced. And it doesn’t take long before your initial impressions are totally forgotten: These guys aren’t just lovable doofballs telling well-rehearsed chestnuts about their kooky life. They’re people who have suffered unimaginable hardship and now bravely submit it to further public scrutiny in the hopes of solving the mystery at the center of their lives. SEAN NELSON
The timing of the programming of this essential work of feminist cinema coincides nicely with the return of Karina Longworth’s film history podcast, You Must Remember This, which dedicated one of its most memorable episodes to its writer/director/star, Barbara Loden. The story of a woman in a coal-mining town who drifts through the events of her life—divorce, abandonment, sex, crime—so passively that you can’t help but reflect on what must be happening in her interior life, draws on such classic high-low influences as early Jean-Luc Godard, Chantal Akerman, and Warhol/Morrissey. But unlike those others, Loden is also a skilled, experienced, fascinating actor, whose lead performance also offers an enigmatic critique on what is and isn’t expected from women on-screen. SEAN NELSON
Northwest Film Forum
Won't You Be My Neighbor?
The question isn't how much you will cry. The question, which only emerges days into the aftermath of seeing this extraordinary new documentary about the life and work of Fred Rogers, is this: What exactly are you crying about? Possibility number one: good old-fashioned nostalgia. A huge chunk of the film consists of clips from Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, the public TV show for children Rogers created, wrote, and performed multiple roles in for 33 years. Seeing the way he spoke directly to his viewers, making sure we knew we were valued, cared for, seen, and known is a powerful reminder of the early validation the show provided. And learning that this style of address arose from radical education theory, developed by Rogers himself (in conjunction with learned colleagues like Spock, Braselton, and Erikson), about the benefits of being candid with children, only deepens the admiration. But this footage also stirs up the memory of inarticulate childhood sorrow his attention helped to alleviate, taking you back to the time before you were capable of constructing the armor required for this nightmare of a world. Possibility number two: the impossibility of such a human existing again, either on television or, indeed, on earth. He represented a strain of religious conviction that seems inconceivable now. Through his show, he demonstrated the precepts of his faith—kindness, empathy, dignity, peaceful coexistence, safety, love—without ever once mentioning, or even gesturing toward, a deity. SEAN NELSON
Meridian 16 & SIFF Cinema Uptown
Our critics don't recommend these movies, but you might like to know about them anyway.