Abbey Bender

Early on, sex addiction is called “a gaping hole in the soul” but Unlovable barely has us feel it.

The combined charms of Britishness and nostalgia often prove a potent blend for American moviegoers, but Their Finest could have delivered something more.

Even though it paints too rosy a picture, Love, Cecil fills out history with sparkling imagery.

Viewers will sense that the history of these compelling figures entails more frustration and complexity than can be examined in a short running time.

The film is ultimately frustrating for the unending opacity of Paulina’s psychology.

The film deserves some credit for not becoming a weepie or, conversely, making Sherry the butt of a joke, but while Dhavernas’s performance and director Adam Keleman’s penchant for soft colors in a harsh world add intrigue, it leaves a frustrating aftertaste.

Chronic forces viewers to look closely at things they might rather ignore, and intentionally holds its emotions at a distance.

The film takes a few jumps in time and employs some mildly experimental techniques. Unfortunately, most of the humor doesn't stick.

Dig Two Graves isn't the most original horror film, nor is it the scariest, but most of its short runtime offers passable suspense and an engaging protagonist.

Almada deserves credit for creating a portrait of a character so often passed over onscreen: Doña is a woman in her sixties with a decidedly unglamorous life. But the relentless darkness here (both figuratively and literally — some of the shots of Doña in her home are shrouded in blackness) often proves more alienating than illuminating.

Immigrant stories certainly don’t demand tragedy to be legitimate, but The Tiger Hunter, with its pastiche of fish-out-of-water comedy and pointy collared shirts, ultimately feels weightless.

Slack Bay is nothing if not anti-authoritarian, and while its anarchic energy is appealing in small doses, it becomes tiresome when it turns toward cruelty.

This is one of those films that merits a long cold shower afterwards. That might actually be a compliment — Wood wants to provoke.

While The American Side may not quite achieve the classic thriller tone to which it aspires, it does create an enjoyably hard-boiled world.

The fact that you can sense Westwood’s disillusionment with the documentary project while watching it creates some interesting tension, but director Lorna Tucker doesn’t fully exploit it or turn it into meta commentary.

This debut feature by Elaine Constantine has no shortage of style, but ultimately relies a lot on cliché.

Miss Sloane, with all its Capitol Hill gloss, sometimes feels too much like a primetime political television drama.

Joshy could easily be a film about loss, but it instead ends up as a prickly exploration of forced fun.

It would benefit from more focus on the music, but the work stands as an effective (if overly long) portrait of addiction.

Neither comedy nor melodrama (though bearing traces of both), Tumbledown ends up a modest study of two fairly unremarkable, prickly characters.

The Fencer is ultimately too staid: It’s at its best when Nelis shows the art of fencing to his students and the elegant yet dangerous swords are wielded.

A grating protagonist alone does not a bad film make, but the episodic, unsatisfying Lemon revels in purposeful nails-on-a-chalkboard unlikability.

It’s atmospheric, and all the music is lovely, but unfortunately nostalgia can only do so much of the heavy lifting.

While [Rachel Weisz] is a compelling performer, the film is ultimately a Hitchcock-inspired thriller without too many real thrills.

Rossi provides an attractive overview of the exhibition for those who did not attend it, but we are left feeling something like Wong, seeing a lot of pretty things surrounded by vapidity.

The directors of Band of Robbers, brothers Aaron and Adam Nee, have set out to modernize the stories of Mark Twain but end up with a cutesy caper that isn't as memorable as you might hope.

Unsurprisingly, the film doesn't live up to its Beach Boys–quoting title. Things turn out all right, but there's little real emotional force.

While it’s refreshing to see a portrait of a woman’s unraveling that doesn’t romanticize mental illness, and that’s actually directed by a woman, it’s easy to wish Bitch probed a bit deeper into the protagonist’s pre-dog life.