Andy Webster

You may not agree with every observation in Michael Singh’s documentary Valentino’s Ghost. But this engrossing examination of American perceptions of Arabs and the Arab world gets you thinking.

Crisply directed by Thomas Morgan, the film depicts a succession of challenges facing Ms. Shaar, a smart, understated and tenacious entrepreneur.

It’s Fang’s transformation, embodied by Ms. Zhou’s lean, cool authority, that carries the most weight, lending the proceedings an unforced feminist dimension, and reaffirming Ms. Hui’s status as one of China’s cinematic treasures.

The graphic evidence here, in testimony on camera and in period photographs, is absolutely harrowing.

This well-made, low-key drama, written by Mr. Gay and Tomàs Aragay, offers some insights into terminal illness.

Their stories are compelling — and persuasive.

It’s Arhoolie’s musicians — Big Mama Thornton, Flaco Jiménez, Michael Doucet of the Cajun band BeauSoleil and others — who are the true stars. I dare you not to tap your feet.

It taps into something universal, and very precious, about loss, art and adolescent rebellion.

A re-creation of the night, with an actress playing the screaming victim while Mr. Genovese observes, is harrowing.

Trapped is not a balanced analysis of the abortion debate; it makes its sympathies clear. But it is a powerful and persuasive rendering of a corner of women’s health care under siege.

This movie makes you appreciate anew the one-on-one social dimension lost in the music industry’s headlong switch to digital downloads.

Predictably, the film culminates in a dance competition, irresistible to behold and leading to an ending just about too pat to believe.

Thanks to his editor, Domingo González, Mr. de la Iglesia skillfully keeps these many balls in the air, a palpable affection for his players seeping through.

A skilled portrait of a literary light shadowed by his public profile. The film, written and directed by Tom Bean and Luke Poling, tacitly suggests a reconsideration of its subject, who deserves it.

The film is remarkable, considering its minimal means and surprising lack of bloodshed, given the genre. Does it stay with you? A little.

It’s often said that the Irish, blessed with the gift of gab, can be splendid raconteurs. You’ll find generous evidence to that effect here. And a bit of poetry as well.

[A] deft and comprehensive documentary.

Dark corners of the immigrant experience in New York City, especially for women, are frighteningly dramatized in Ana Asensio’s suspense film Most Beautiful Island, a modest but effective writing-directing debut.

Its principal merit is the quiet authority of Ms. Mumtaz, who combines a mother’s passionate concern with glimmers of an awakening consciousness.

A record of a man’s tormented youth, his broad artistic impulses and the price he paid for following them.

In the film Bill Nye: Science Guy, Mr. Nye, the 1990s children’s-television personality with the signature bow tie, warns of “an anti-science movement” afoot in this country. And this delightful, revealing documentary, directed by David Alvarado and Jason Sussberg, offers evidence supporting that assessment.

If there’s one rewarding thing about many Hong Kong action directors, it’s that they rarely dawdle in getting to what fight fans have come for: bracing shootouts and high-impact fisticuffs and footwork.

[A] fascinating documentary.

Impressive acting (especially from Mr. Suliman and Yael Abecassis as Yonatan’s mother) enhances this thoughtful drama, directed with a sure hand by Mr. Riklis, a film veteran.

Much of this movie is composed of survivors who give harrowing accounts of their experiences, and their warnings about rising ethnic hatred in Europe should not be ignored. But those seeking to learn in depth about, say, the dialects and traditions of the Roma should look elsewhere.

The movie overreaches when trying to contextualize Knievel as a hero inspiring the country after Vietnam-Watergate disillusionment. He was simply an all-American self-promoter. But Being Evel largely nails his story.

Under its slick, schematic surface, this tale of aspiration and redemption at least offers moments of genuine feeling.

Mr. Liford (yet another emergent indie filmmaker from Texas) can clearly write a script, handle a camera and construct a mood. Wuss may be slight, but Mr. Liford’s sense of pitch is spot on.