Abby Garnett

For all its postures of humanism, the film is remarkably cold toward the victim herself, who appears only briefly.

Director Pedro Morelli's neon-and-grime aesthetic and a solid cast of mostly Canadian character actors (including a campy, animated Don McKellar and a creepy Michael Eklund) are the grounding factors.

Much of the humor depends on Redleaf and Farsad coaxing relatable, Apatow-ian comedy out of their relationship; unfortunately, they're so bland that there's little to relate to.

Barrett faces the daunting task of trying to contain Collette's tumultuous performance, and he struggles to make Reynor's more restrained turn work in the same space. The film trudges along in Collette's wake, fumbling for something to focus on apart from the bleeding wound just offscreen.

Writer-director Cameron Labine seems to want to prove the obsolescence of the lovable-slacker stereotype even as he flogs it for entertainment value.

The film relies heavily on the coltish charms of its young leads, and Powley's effervescent, well-timed performance as the younger princess (she calls herself "P2") is skillful enough to bring out the screwball latencies in an otherwise bland screenplay.

Pulled in too many directions, the film's subtle mood-building starts to feel intentionally oblique, the force of its characters and symbols lessened by a frustrating circuitousness.

Though mildly engaging, this Reversion doesn't delve deep enough to distinguish itself.

A puzzling film that despite being saturated with feeling leaves only a vague impression.

The crime-spree-driven final third feels more like a sordid movie of the week than the sprightly comedy that preceded it.

New York onscreen is often a fantasy of hustlers, hardened cops, and the spoiled urban yuppies of the Baumbach and Dunham universes. In that sense, writer-director Keith Miller's modest drama Five Star is the kind of depiction the city sorely needs.

Lawson's wishy-washiness about tone doesn't prevent the actors from nailing the comic exchanges.

Though its imagery is tame by LaBruce's standards, Gerontophilia follows his fascination with taboo sexual behavior.

This retelling is more concerned with black-and-white morality, which drains it of suspense.

The message is more pedestrian than passionate: Life is long, and full of instant messages.

Despite a few dynamite scenes from Chastain, Miss Julie's cruelty is more potent than its craft.

This is a fascinating and often tumultuous story, which Haupt chronicles through a mixture of interviews with the real Ostertag and Rapp (now married, they appear as a pair) alongside dramatized vignettes that, as the film wears on, feel like annoying interruptions.

Last of the First is effective as a classroom tool for conservationist ideals (Jane Goodall herself gives an interview, as does the director of the African branch of the Nature Conservancy), but it fails to interrogate the forces that make those ideals necessary.

Khaou creates a compelling tension between Whishaw's stricken, almost febrile performance and Cheng's stubbornly dignified one.

It sounds like a recipe for comedy (and Kline seems to think so too, waltzing and prat-falling through Mathias's alcoholic foibles), but Horovitz's screenplay guns instead for an emotionally and financially tangled melodrama, and ends up feeling aggravatingly inconsistent.

May in the Summer's biggest obstacle is Dabis, who isn't a strong enough actress to sell the subtle humor.

I Am Happiness on Earth's script is mostly filler between explicit, intensely choreographed sex acts.

A lightweight Big Chill reworked for today's young professional set, which proves too clumsy and self-conscious to live up to its weighty subject matter.

The film is dragged down by its awkwardly paradoxical story, which tries too hard to care too little.

Shapiro seems far more invested than his subject in telling the story, which sometimes makes the film feel a bit underhanded.

A self-aware psychopath is a tough character to humanize, especially when he's mired in a stylized jumble of comedy and tragedy.