Bill Goodykoontz

Paolo Virzi’s film, based on a novel by Michael Zadoorian, holds few surprises, leaving us with some enjoyable set pieces in a disappointing movie.

It’s an expertly directed, slow-burning psychological horror film filled with outstanding performances.

Gringo dabbles in several genres, none particularly well.

There are some scares here, in the same way that there is some pain when you hit your thumb with a hammer. Blunt force carries a lot of power. But there isn’t a lot of thought. It’s the same idea as the first movie, just not as well-done.

There are moments of real power and beauty in Ava DuVernay’s film, based on the much-loved Madeleine L’Engle novel. You just have to work too hard to find them.

It wants to be oh-so-serious, and it never lets us forget how hard it’s trying.

Certainly the details have been known and written about here and there, but director Alexandra Dean assembles them in an entertaining, and at times heartbreaking and infuriating, film.

Potter’s sense of timing is terrific. She never lingers on one character too long. It’s the same with the movie — you’re in and out before you realize what hit you.

The movie is as gorgeous as it is disturbing, and that’s a powerful combination. It may be about the beginning of the end of the world or the beginning of something else entirely. I’d be lying if I said I understand every aspect of the film, but I was engrossed trying to.

It’s ridiculous, far-fetched — absurdist, even. Some, or even a lot, of the jokes are stupid. But thanks in part to a terrific cast, expert timing and an all-in aesthetic, it's really funny.

It’s not quite the triumph that the exquisitely excruciating “Listen Up Philip” was, but it’s another example of Perry’s behavioral alchemy that’s well worth checking out.

In the Fade is a tragedy in three acts, their varying tone and effectiveness held together, however tenuously, by a powerhouse performance.

Early Man is smart, funny, clever — and a bit of a disappointment.

It is a terrifically entertaining film, alive from the start, following its Marvel mission (for good and bad) while rising above it.

Every now and then you run across a film in which a really talented cast takes a crack at a well-worn genre entry. For the most part, that’s what Permission is, though writer and director Brian Crano tosses in a couple of wrinkles.

If Eastwood wanted to use the real men, a documentary would have been just as powerful and more dramatically satisfying. Instead, the acting is distracting. The film’s intentions are sterling. Its execution, not so much.

Johnson and Dornan retain the chemistry of two mannequins knocked into each other in a department-store storage closet; the actual sex scenes play more like aerobics videos than anything actually steamy.

As statements go, it’s somewhat compelling. But really, the look of Like Me is the big draw here, and it’s what makes the film both interesting and well worth seeing. As for Mockler, it’ll be fascinating to see what comes next.

Overall The Insult is a compelling, timely movie. Doueiri is doing what artists do: Making the personal universal, while at the same time showing the impact a few poorly chosen words can carry.

Regardless of politics, it’s fascinating to see how the White House works.

It’s a fun effort in a genre that hasn’t gotten much of a workout recently, and that’s worthwhile in itself.

Nicolai Fuglsig’s film does a nice job of capturing the fish-out-of-water nature of the American combatants. Chris Hemsworth is suitably heroic and Michael Shannon suitably intense. But if this movie was the only context you had for the U.S. response to the 9/11 attacks, you’d walk out of the theater thinking that we won a quick war without suffering any casualties, that American gusto and bravery saved the day.

Forever My Girl is a bad movie, pure and simple. And pure and simple is just how writer and director Bethany Ashton Wolf likes it.

Annette Bening is so good in Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool that it makes up for a story that’s slighter than it should be.

If you’re making a movie about someone with exacting standards, Day-Lewis is your man. Yet what’s so exciting about Anderson and Day-Lewis’ collaborations is that while the actor is always superb, they’re very much the director’s movies. They feed off of one another, creating collaborative works that show off each other’s strengths.

The Commuter doesn’t stand above or below most of Neeson’s action-hero fare. But you dependably get what you pay for.

This is a story about taking risks, about putting the good of the country before your own. It sounds corny and clichéd, but even in Spielberg’s hands it doesn’t come off that way.

The film’s intentions are noble enough, but its story doesn’t always live up to them.

It’s got a great beat and you can dance to it (or Jackman, Efron and the rest can, anyway). And Barnum would have loved it.

Alexander Payne has a lot of fun — and has some serious things to say — in Downsizing, a film that goes from fascinating to sometimes merely functional, but never truly loses its way.

Call Me by Your Name is a lush, heartbreakingly beautiful film about first love, but also the glories of youth, when everything is new and any number of paths open before you.

Most of the complexity in the film comes from its structure, as we go back and forth in time with Bloom. It’s an entertaining journey, especially if you like to listen.

Everyone here has been better, and funnier, in other things. This is a lazy story, wholly dependent upon the likability of its cast which, while considerable, isn’t enough to make it worth the trouble.

There is a hollowed-out gravitas to his Getty, the perfect example of someone for whom having almost literally everything is just not enough, and Plummer captures this magnificently. No matter how he got there, it’s impossible now to imagine All the Money in the World without him.

While Star Wars: The Last Jedi is a good movie and a worthy entry, it would have been stronger if Johnson didn’t telegraph those new directions before leading us to them.

The Shape of Water is a fantasy, a myth, a fairy tale, all that.

You don’t lose yourself in the film the way you might like, but there is never a second in which Oldman is not riveting.

In The Disaster Artist, James Franco proves himself a good director, a really good actor and something of an alchemist.

The course of the film's story is somewhat predictable and played broadly. But where Volpe's work really shines is when it makes the bigger issue personal.

Aida's Secrets starts out as a fairly straightforward documentary about reuniting two long-separated brothers, but directors Alon and Shaul Schwarz don't stop there.

Frank Serpico doesn't supersede "Serpico," and it isn't meant to. Instead it serves as an interesting companion piece, one well worth watching.

Roman J. Israel, Esq. is a surpassingly strange, often frustrating movie.

Yes, the latest Pixar offering involves a journey to the Land of the Dead, which by definition requires people to, you know, die. That's always sad. But there's joy here, particularly in the animation and the cinematography; the Land of the Dead is a beautiful place, which is kind of comforting

"Three Billboards" is a really good movie filled with terrific performances, but what McDormand is doing here surpasses them all.

Wonder will make you cry — that’s one of the main purposes of its existence — but it’ll also drive you a little crazy.

Justice League is, if flawed, at least a step in the right direction. But there's still a journey ahead.

It looks nice, but it's not really going anywhere.

Last Flag Flying is a movie about a long road trip that sometimes feels like a long road trip — it's sometimes funny, sometimes sad, sometimes poignant, and while the destination is never in doubt, occasionally the company drives you a little crazy.

This is a fully realized film, with a confident eye and lived-in performances. What a treat.

LBJ, Rob Reiner's film, benefits greatly from an absolutely all-in performance by Woody Harrelson as the former president. But it also benefits from the current president, or at least the current administration.

Thor: Ragnarok is a blast, pure and simple.

Suburbicon is a hybrid of two ideas — two movies, really — and it isn't clear whether either would have worked separately. What is clear is that they don't work together.

It's a gorgeously sterile film, fascinating to look at, sometimes painful to watch. The performances are outstanding; yet the actors, including Colin Farrell and Nicole Kidman, are toned down almost comically, often giving robotic line readings to empty bromides.

Jane is a compelling movie, one that shows us not just more of the world, but also our place in it.

Hall is a workmanlike director, taking a meat-and-potatoes approach to the story. But it fits the subject matter here. Thank You for Your Service is not a great movie by any stretch. But it is a good one, and perhaps more importantly, a necessary one.

While Leatherface, a prequel directed by Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury (“Inside”), works OK as a gory horror film (necrophilia, beheading, partial defenestration and beating eaten alive by pigs are a few of the delights), it makes less sense as part of the surprisingly (and needlessly) expansive “Texas Chainsaw” universe, as it were.

These are fantastic performances, even if they’re painful to watch. Una isn’t pretty, but it is powerful.

When telling the story of real-life heroes, it’s easy to lapse into clichés. What makes the terrific Only the Brave such a powerful movie is its abject rejection of them.

Once you get past the premise — and granted, that takes some doing — Happy Death Day turns out to be goofy good fun.

Sometimes infuriating but never depressing, The Florida Project doesn’t just shine a light on people rarely represented in anything but a condescending manner. Instead it brings us into their world and introduces us to its inhabitants in a meaningful way. We care about them.

Robinson tells the story in a straightforward way, not quite breezy but definitely in mainstream fashion. You long for a little more grit; even the rough edges seem a little smooth.

Boseman and Gad are both good. Marshall drinks and smokes and fights in a bar; certainly that's a side of him we haven't seen before. If anything, he's portrayed as a little too good at his job, a risk-taker whose every courtroom hunch pays off. It's an interesting approach to the story, but it also holds the film back a bit.

Typically actors like Winslet and Elba can elevate even the most-pedestrian material, but making this story better would require a feat of superhuman strength.

Co-writer and director Chris Peckover clearly knows his way around both the holiday and horror genres, and while this isn’t the first time someone has blended the two, it is one of the more-effective efforts. It’s scary and fun, if your idea of fun involves occasional gore and torture, things like that.

Lucky is one of Harry Dean Stanton’s last roles, a rare leading performance, and it is a treasure.

Things go from far-fetched to insane before it's over, and Vaughn wisely keeps the pace at a healthy clip. But never underestimate his power to floor you.

Blade Runner 2049 stands as its own film, in addition to a continuation of the sequel. It’s not the bolt out of the blue the first movie was, but how could it be? Instead, as the break between installments would suggest, it’s a furthering of not just the original story but the original world, and that’s quite an accomplishment.

It’s a fascinating story with particular contemporary relevance. And it should be better.

The film is a little too polished and slick to really provide the slap in the face of the U.S. government it intends to deliver. But as a means for Cruise to shake off the dust of movies like “The Mummy” for something more substantive, it more than succeeds.

The LEGO Ninjago Movie is a worthwhile entry into this growing universe, expanding it but not really evolving it. It’s fun, but not especially memorable.

Kingsman: The Golden Circle is a movie in search of a reason to exist. Despite a needlessly excessive running time, it never finds one.

What’s so terrific about Stiller’s performance is that we never question his genuine love for his son. He’s just got to work through his love for himself to get there.

The film, directed by Valerie Faris and Jonathan Dayton (“Little Miss Sunshine”), might have come off as too breezy were it not for the leads: Emma Stone as King and Steve Carell as Riggs.

It’s terrific. This was something of a surprise, as it seems almost impossible to tell this kind of story without a treacly narrative and clichéd notes of inspiration — against-all-odds kind of stuff, which so easily slips into melodrama.

The best thing is that Nichol doesn’t adopt a luddite stance. He doesn’t try to impart the evils of technology, at least not much. (Some people in the film lean that way.) He’s more inclined to chronicle the joys of a fading delight, one click-clack at a time.

Much of the film is inert, like a still life with dialogue. That’s not a detriment. That’s an invitation to see a movie whose beauty stays with you long after it ends.

Darren Aronofsky’s film pretty much defines “not for everybody.” He is here to challenge the audience as much as entertain it; happily, he does both, and with no half measures in either department. It is intriguing, frustrating, bizarre and over-the-top — way over. And yet when you leave, you can’t deny: There is a lot of movie going on here.

Home Again is a romantic comedy with its heart in the right place. And that’s just about the only thing it has going for it. It’s facile, disingenuous, artificial in nearly every way.

This is a really fun movie. Good, too. Not great, but old-school in its approach to scares and, even better, in its approach to the relationships between kids, outsiders who band together to try to take down a monstrous evil. And maybe flirt a little while they’re at it.

Lafosse, along with actors Bérénice Bejo and Cédric Kahn, infuse the film with a brutal honesty that makes it, if not exactly enjoyable, certainly compelling.

It’s a big disappointment, not least because of its talented cast, and Bell’s obvious talents as a filmmaker.

Is Whose Streets? the only story we should see and hear about what went on in Ferguson and after? No. It’s by its nature incomplete, one side of the tale. What makes it important is that it is the side that too often goes ignored. But here, at least, no more.

Pattinson is what helps us keep pace. He completely inhabits Connie with his jittery, twitchy efforts — he can’t stand still, so neither can we.

Aubrey Plaza is brilliant in Ingrid goes West, Matt Spicer’s smart, satirical and sometimes scathing takedown of the vapidity social media sometimes injects into life.

The film is, like its predecessors, funny. But the joke is starting to wear just a bit thin.

The cast, in particular Macdonald and Everett, rise above. However gritty the film may be, you want the best for these characters.

The cast is impressive, and again, Bridges is always a welcome presence.

Weird” is one word for it, and it certainly applies. But so does “creative,” “inventive,” “compelling” and, finally, “good.” Dave Made a Maze is all of those things, a one-of-a-kind movie from director and co-writer Bill Watterson.

I liked the movie — it’s certainly well made, and a lot of fun — but I mostly found myself laughing at it, not with it.

Brigsby Bear is charming, sweet, creative, different and disturbing.

As with all of the films he writes, Sheridan takes us to places that are foreign to many of us, yet immerses us so deeply into the sense of place that everything feels familiar, recognizable. It’s a trip worth taking, making “Wind River” another stop on the unique cinematic travelogue Sheridan is building.

A surprisingly effective horror film, which is to say it’s scary in all the smart ways.

The Midwife is one of those movies that could be about anything and you’d watch, so enjoyable are its lead actors.

The Dark Tower is a near-total whiff, a mess of a movie that took forever to get made and by the look of things should have taken about twice that long. Or maybe just never have been made at all.

All the actors are good, but Harrington is remarkable. It’s not just the physical changes in her character, but the genuineness with which she inhabits her.

Detroit, as a movie, is all over the place, yet oddly that messiness is one of its strengths. It is also appropriate. Necessary, even. It fits.

A Ghost Story may be the ultimate litmus test of where you fall on the line between artistic merit and laughable pretension.

Dunkirk is a great movie, both an old-time inspirational war epic and at the same time very much a Christopher Nolan movie.

Flawed but impressive, War for the Planet of the Apes finds its place comfortably, and near the top, of a surprisingly satisfying summer season. It’s a smart take on the old films, making this a series that can stand alone in its own right.

There is a delightful innocence to Spider-Man: Homecoming, director Jon Watts’ take on the web-slinger that mixes some (but no too much, at least for a while) high-tech wizardry with some old-fashioned family fun.

Hawkins is fantastic. She duplicates Maud’s gnarled hands, but doesn’t overdo it — she simply captures Maud’s struggle and portrays it as part of her life.

There are some funny parts, of course, because the cast is so talented. But it’s too much work for too little payoff — sound and fury signifying nothing. Nothing but Minion fart jokes.

It’s a terrific example of a movie that doesn’t work too hard to make you love it. It’s patient as it waits for you to come around to its considerable charms.

The Beguiled is an atmospheric remake that Sofia Coppola never quite manages to take from languid to lurid.

There’s a hint of artificiality to it. Maybe it’s an allegory, but the meaning hidden therein seems simply to be: go faster. Nothing wrong with that. It’s not as if Wright was shooting for something deeper and missed.

For the most part it works, both as a bizarre romance and a fanciful World War II almost-thriller. This is in large part thanks to the cast, particularly Christopher Plummer as Wilhelm.

While it’s visually arresting, it’s a disappointment. It’s too on the nose as a political allegory, and too lacking in coherent narrative to satisfy as a hipster comedy-drama.

It's bigger and louder and, if not longer (checking in at a mere two hours and 28 minutes), certainly stupider than ever before.

What the filmmakers are interested in is Elliott, and it’s easy to see why. He’s outstanding playing with the various aspects of his life and career, and he brings some at-times unexpected emotion to scenes that he elevates.

It’s impressive how accurately Lister-Jones and Pally make these fights. What’s more impressive is how Lister-Jones, who also wrote and directed Band Aid, makes the make-ups and happy, loving moments just as believable.

Rough Night has a couple of halfway good ideas, but they never add up to a whole.

Some movies are kind of fake good — at first blush they seem to have all the ingredients in place to be successful. But on further inspection, it’s all a trick. That’s the kind of movie this is.

Director Gabriela Cowperthwaite keeps things moving, but her stripped-down approach is more effective in creating the world of the characters than in showing us how they interact inside it.

Johns makes it all bearable. Inviting, even. His performance has such a gentle humanity, especially in the darkest scenes, that you can’t turn away. You don’t just root against the system. You root for him, and that’s an important distinction.

Weisz’s performance is what provides the tension. It’s impossible to read her — or, more accurately, it’s possible to misread her. That’s kind of the same thing, but not quite.

It Comes at Night is soaked in uncertainty. It makes us uncomfortable because we want answers and can’t have them. And if there’s anyone who knows how to make an audience uncomfortable, it’s writer and director Trey Edward Shults.

Ultimately, and perhaps most disappointingly, The Mummy winds up being not so much its own movie as what, by the end, feels like the first episode of a show that's already been renewed for several seasons. Because, in some respects, that's what it is.

In Wakefield’s mind, naturally, there is no life without him. It’s to Cranston’s credit that, at least for a couple of hours, we’re willing to play along.

I liked Dean. And I liked Martin’s direction. I just hope his next outing is a little more ambitious.

If the story is somewhat lacking, Cox is terrific.

Gadot is terrific, capturing perfectly the grace, power and heroism of the Amazonian princess who must make herself present in the world to save it.

This movie is exhausting.

As with any movie of this sort, there are a few laughs. Johnson is as likable an actor as there is, and it’s to the actors’ credit that they buy in to the stupidity. But there aren’t enough laughs and not nearly enough story.

Everything, Everything is a flawed film in many ways, but there is one that’s a deal breaker: It doesn’t make you cry.

Alien: Covenant is much better than “Prometheus,” in that it has plenty of scares and an actual plot, which, if sometimes predictable — all of these movies are in some ways the ultimate game of survival — is still satisfying.

Jacobs, while making a fairly funny movie, does not settle for easy answers or melodrama.

Liev Schreiber is outstanding as the title character, a big lug who can’t stay out of his own way.

There are some fun bits in the film. Law is kind of funny, in and over-the-top, does-he-mean-to-be-like-this way. Hunnam is game for playing Arthur. But Ritchie, in his attempt to ensure there’s never a dull moment, makes it all exhausting.

What a mess. Its meandering plot draws attention to the alarming lack of laughs — not what you look for in a supposed comedy.

There are moments in The Dinner, Oren Moverman’s tense drama based on the Herman Koch novel, in which you sit back and watch four terrific actors go at it. There just aren’t enough of them.

Writer and director Sarah Adina Smith’s vision is so confident, so sure, that it’s worth trusting her to see where the story goes. Plus, you get Rami Malek at no extra charge.

It’s the classic example of the sequel to a really imaginative original: If the first one didn’t exist, this one would seem revolutionary. But the first one does, and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, for all its charms, will live in its shadow.

The acting is outstanding; Mungiu’s straightforward dialogue and naturalistic shooting make for a movie that feels genuine, with no false steps.

"Norman” takes a largely unlikable character and inserts him into the center of its story, a gambit that seems like a surefire recipe for disaster. It’s not, thanks to Richard Gere.

Director and co-writer Terry George (“Hotel Rwanda”) tries his best to give the film an epic sweep, but he substitutes quantity of plot threads for quality of story.

The Lost City of Z is a throwback, an epic film about a grand adventure.

Colossal is a monstrously imaginative movie with a premise so bizarre it’s amazing it ever got made. But it’s a good thing it did.

Really, the movie is the third cheeseburger, the fourth beer, the fifth ice-cream sandwich. It’s gluttony, which is kind of enjoyable when you’re in the middle of committing it but leaves you feeling sluggish and remorseful later when you’ve had time to think about it.

The Void is a horror film that goes off the rails — not by accident, but on purpose. And not just a little. It’s gloriously off the rails, unhinged, absolutely bonkers.

You know you're being manipulated but you don't really mind, because it's fun to watch this bunch work.

It’s a good movie about great heroism, and you wish it was more.

The film gets gory toward the end, and as with most horror films, the climax isn’t as satisfying as the build-up. But Perkins builds layer after layer of dread, so that when an explosion finally occurs, it’s almost a twisted relief.

Part of the problem is that, in trying to convey the chaos of abject fear, Espinosa makes it hard to figure out the architecture of the ship, so we don’t know where anyone’s running.

It’s as if Boyle is saying he isn’t afraid to visit the past. And he does it about as successfully as one could — T2 is a movie worth seeing and enjoying if you’ve seen the first film (less so if you haven’t). What he’s not as successful at is telling us why.

The tone is so uneven, the shifts so jarring, that they overtake the movie’s modest pleasures.

Raw is a lot of things: a terrific feature debut by a promising filmmaker; an effective metaphor; an acting showcase; and, not least of all, a gross-out horror film.

Song to Song isn’t the sleepy disappointment Malick’s last two films were, but it’s hard not to wish he’d wake up.

CHIPS is a miserable movie, an exercise in stupidity that takes whatever nostalgia one had for the late-1970s television series – this assumes anyone actually had nostalgia for it — and beats it to death on a bed of idiocy. The action scenes, though, are pretty well-directed.

Personal Shopper draws you in, interesting from all angles.

At its best Power Rangers plays a little like a low-rent “Breakfast Club.” Unfortunately it’s not always at its best, and when it’s not, you get exactly what you’d expect: generic teen hero fare.

Love & Taxes is an odd little title for an odd little movie, and yet it delivers exactly what it promises. And in an entertaining way.

It’s quite good, thanks to the sturdiness of the story, the jaw-dropping visuals and, most importantly, the one thing the first film didn’t offer: Emma Watson.

The Sense of an Ending is a twisty tale of time and memory that owes most of its compelling nature to Jim Broadbent.

Table 19 is an odd little movie, and a frustrating one.

If it wasn’t for her, it would be near-unwatchable.

There are some funny bits here, and younger comics like Sarah Silverman push the limits even farther; to the minds of some, they cross them.

Kong: Skull Island is one of those movies best described as big, dumb fun.

The film is unexpectedly compelling, even if you’re not a teenage girl, though being one certainly wouldn’t hurt.

Logan is a serious take on the comic-book genre, the Marvel Cinematic Universe in particular, and it’s a good one. Not a great one, though, which it might've been if it hadn’t gotten in its own way, overdoing it with its R-rated freedoms.

Bitter Harvest, bless its low-budget heart, means well. But George Mendeluk’s film, about the Holodomor, the forced famine and starvation that killed between 7 and 10 million Ukrainians, falls well short of its ambitions.

The filmmaking is gorgeous and unsettling, giving the Midwest of the early 1980s a Gothic feel. The acting is hit or miss — two performances stand head and shoulders above the rest — but it’s the story that never quite gels.

A scathing examination of race, a take down of phony liberal sympathies that sticks it to racists of every stripe.

Verbinski manages some squirm-worthy moments, and cinematographer Bojan Bazelli creates a creepy look throughout. But the story doesn’t make sense as it goes along and then devolves into absurdity.

Its importance lies in Baldwin’s insistence on exposing truths, many of them uncomfortable, many of them more urgent than ever.

There are too many misses among the hits. Once you get past the premise, there’s not a lot farther to go

Reeves was born to this kind of role — quiet, moody, looks nice in black. He’s just as good as he was in the first film, because he’s exactly the same. In many ways, so is the film. That’s fine this time around, because John Wick: Chapter 2 is just as crazily entertaining.

This is a horrible movie. Which makes it not a lot different from the first film.

In terms of jokes per minute that land, it’s at least the equal of its predecessor.

While the acting draws us into the story; it plays like a daytime soap opera with really good actors and Australian accents.

The performances are remarkable. So is the way Farhadi tells the story.

It seems unfinished, choppy, the storytelling almost of the after-school special variety.

Davis is not above manipulating the audience at the end of the film, but so what? It works. And that closing credit, man. Some things are worth waiting for.

McConaughey has become one of the more interesting actors around, someone whose next role is always worth checking out. But in Gold, the balance is off somehow — he’s acting up a storm, but a muddled story and hard-to-figure character ultimately betray him.

Maren Ade's film, an Oscar nominee for best foreign-language film, is almost painful to watch at times, but it's also funny and touching and reflective of the world, all courtesy of Ade and terrific performances by Peter Simonischek as a goofy father who refuses to act his age and Sandra Hüller as his daughter, as buttoned-up as her dad isn't.

It’s often cloying, absurdly melodramatic, and the premise exists largely as a tear-manufacturing device.

The Founder, John Lee Hancock’s film about Ray Kroc, is kind of a mess, which makes it perfect for the current political climate.

Paterson keeps plugging away, despite the intrusion of some outside forces. Making art is simply part of his makeup, and it makes Paterson a hopeful film.

After that streak of deadly misfires it’s nice to see Shyamalan enjoying himself again.

Think of Julieta as Pedro Almodovar unplugged. The director tones down somewhat his signature look (loud and busy colors) and vibe (heightened melodrama) for something a little more muted in this tale of loss and tragedy.

It’s refreshing to watch Bening, making the most of her best role in a long time.... It’s just an outstanding performance, and reason enough to see a movie whose charms are as unusual as its characters.

Patriots Day is a well-meaning, well-executed movie that tells the story of the Boston Marathon bombings of 2013 as a crime thriller — an interesting choice that works well, for the most part.

Live by Night is a mess. It’s got some interesting elements that Affleck, who wrote the script based on a Dennis Lehane novel, surprisingly can’t pull together. And, it must be said, his performance in the lead role isn’t up to snuff.

What we’re left with are a few PG-13 murders, uninspired performances, some not-so-scary urban legends and a couple of actresses who must be wondering how they got here.

It’s a uniquely affecting experience, and a uniquely affecting film. Cameraperson shows us the power of image as a tool of recording life, but also finds reasons that even in the worst situations, it’s still worth living.

[Huppert's] remarkable. So, too, is Things to Come.

An epic-length, fascinating film about faith and its opposite number, doubt.

Fences is a feast of brilliant acting, in a story that’s sometimes as difficult as it is powerful.

Sing is like an album with a good song here and there, but too much filler and not enough hits

Where the film falters a bit is with the story. The final act is reminiscent of any of your garden-variety sci-fi adventure movies, which is a jolt after we’ve spent the rest of the movie watching these two figure each other out and try to make peace with their situation.

Gosling is terrific, playing hangdog and irritable yet still managing to be someone you root for (even if you want to smack him in the head every now and then). Stone is even better. It’s her best performance, and that’s saying something. Their relationship, their chemistry, everything about it, and everything about La La Land is, well, magic.

Rogue One stands on its own, an entry that is at once part of the “Star Wars” franchise (obviously) but also separate – a tougher, grittier film.

It’s fun enough in places, outrageous (in mostly a good way) in others. Ultimately, however, the plot falters enough that it’s more like a two-hour audition for Great Actress. Chastain passes with flying colors, even if the movie doesn’t.

There are some funny bits, to be sure. You can’t bring this bunch together without a few hits among the misses. But despite McKinnon’s best efforts, it’s just not enough. This is one Office Christmas Party you can skip.

Calling Jackie, director Pablo Larrain’s absorbing film, a construction project is not to demean it but to praise it.

Seasons is a gorgeous movie that is exceedingly strange — not necessarily in the story it tells, but in the way it tells it.

It’s so ridiculously overstuffed it’s kind of fun. That extends to, or perhaps begins with, the look of the film. It’s rich, overripe, yet still kind of seedy.

It’s a lot of fun. Unfortunately, in her slavish devotion to creating the world of schlocky, B-grade sex-infused horror films, she recreates the good and the bad, the latter including some boring stretches that could’ve been lost in the two-hour running time. But it’s all quite enjoyable and a knowing take on patriarchy besides.

Manchester by the Sea is a masterpiece in a minor key, an exploration of grief that never lets its characters — or its audience — off the hook. It manages this even when it’s funny, which is surprisingly often.

It’s kind of funny, it’s kind of revealing, it’s kind of insightful as a glimpse into Hughes’ increasingly twisted mind, but it never adds up to more than the sum of its parts.

What it lacks is magic, or at least a decent amount of it.

There are some laughs, sure, but not enough. It was funny the first time. This is the second time, and returns diminish accordingly.

Allied is a decent movie, but frustrating — it should have been great, but never gets out of its own way long enough to be.

The film is not a classic of the genre, but it definitely falls into the upper echelon of the “worthy entry” category, and Steinfeld and Harrelson worthier still.

Yes, it’s a boxing comeback story. But the car accident makes it different, and Teller and Eckhart make it better than it ought to be.

It’s an interesting film, no question. But too much of the message gets lost in the medium.

There’s a story within a story here, one more compelling and relatable than the other. Perhaps that’s by design. But even if that’s the case, it doesn’t mean the two parts co-exist comfortably, no matter what the intent.

It’s all quite intricate and entertaining and terrific to look at. The “Fantastic” of the title might be stretching things a bit, but it doesn’t miss the mark by much. Better still, it makes you look forward to, and not dread, the next installment — and that’s real magic.

Even with the revolving door of characters and plot developments, there are some laughs in Almost Christmas.

Negga is fantastic. Her eyes alone convey passion, the feeling that she has had enough. Words aren’t needed. Good thing, because neither she nor Richard use them too much. They’re living their lives, harming no one, and being harmed for it. It makes the story one of the best examples of making a universal situation personal.

It is intelligent, moving and wholly original.

[Gibson's] talent as a filmmaker, Desmond’s story and Garfield’s understated performance make Hacksaw Ridge a good movie, a straightforward story of faith and courage whose complications arise not in the story, but in the telling of it.

Derrickson’s use of computer-generated action is a strength instead of a strain, and it’s not just showing off; in the context of the film, the bizarre images make sense.

Moonlight is a minor miracle, a movie that mines beauty out of the ugliest situations, and a glimmer of hope from heartbreak.

Michael Manasseri’s film wants to be one of those sweet-with-sharp-notes comedies, and in some respects it is. But it is overwhelmed with clichés, stereotypes and overly broad portrayals.

The Handmaiden is everything, in that it is a mystery, a graphically erotic romance, a black comedy and a little bit of a horror story. And, of course, really good.

Inferno...is the kind of movie that stops — and stoops — to explain, early and often. Not that the explanations amount to much; the movie makes almost no sense.

What makes In a Valley of Violence a notch better than a simple genre exercise is West’s sense of fun.

American Pastoral is a movie, like the Pulitzer Prize-winning Philip Roth novel on which it is based, dense with passion, politics and historical import. But Ewan McGregor, directing his first feature, never brings the film fully to life.

The acting is good throughout the film, but Gladstone and Stewart are a step up from everyone else. It’s tempting to say it could have been a feature all on its own, but as it stands it’s nearly perfect, making an already solid Certain Women that much better.

The first scene in Jack Reacher: Never Go Back promises something interesting but delivers something considerably less. That’s a problem with the whole movie.

American Honey is a remarkable movie, which doesn’t mean it’s perfect — its imperfections, in fact, are what help make it so urgent, so vital, so real.

We’ve seen crusty old geezers with hearts of gold plenty of times in films. Here we see how this one got that way, and thanks to Lassgard and Holm, it’s a journey we care about taking.

While Cuaron’s technical chops are beyond question, his storytelling could use some honing here.

The script, by Bill Dubuque, goes sideways in a hurry. Characters do inexplicable things for no reason other than advancing the plot, and sometimes not even that. There is a jaw-dropping coincidence that is as ridiculous as it is obvious.

This is one of those little movies that stays with you, the announcement of an original voice worth watching. It’s a quirky, magical delight.

It is a somber slog through the lives of one miserable wretch after another.

Demon is a powerful film, one that makes us wonder what greater films Wrona might have made.

It’s a complicated movie about a complex man that courts controversy, both intentional and not. If that doesn’t make it a great movie, it makes it a necessary one, now more than ever.

Berg keeps the story personal, which is certainly one way to tell it, though it would have been nice to see a little more about the devastating effects of the massive oil spill triggered by the rig's destruction.

Sometimes it’s absurdist comedy. Sometimes it’s dark comedy. Sometimes it’s out-and-out killing-people drama (almost, but not quite). It’s often funny, but it never quite hangs together as a coherent movie.

This is one of those films in which you feel like you’re known the characters for years; Moretti and his actors establish a kind of instant empathy that makes the story all the more affecting.

Winslet and Davis salvage what they can from the movie — a heroic effort, almost, making it a fun trifle, albeit one with some deadly serious overtones.

It’s a fun movie, a nicely made Western in which bad guys get to be good guys sometimes. Maybe that should be enough, but you can’t help wanting more.

Wood’s terrific direction and an outstanding performance by Morgan Saylor make it an involving cautionary tale.

Without real innovation or story evolution, Blair Witch becomes a trip down a rabbit hole of misery and suffering.

It’s a gripping movie, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt is good as Snowden (his voice alone is terrific), capturing his nerdy intelligence and passion for patriotism.

Maybe there are no more stones unturned when it comes to the Beatles. Maybe The Beatles: Eight Days a Week – The Touring Years is not especially revelatory or earth-shaking. But the band was.

The best thing about the movie is Matthew Rhys.

With Transpecos, Kwedar doesn’t offer any easy answers. Instead he points out the problems, how entrenched and intertwined they are, and asks other questions: How far will you go to survive? And will it be enough in the end?

Other People has its flaws, certainly, but when Kelly focuses more on the characters than their quirks, it’s an effective look at life and death.

There is something compelling about someone who simply shows up for the job, day after day, carving out the remarkable from the unremarkable.

Much is promised and too little is delivered. What is delivered are intense performances by two terrific actors.

Scott does a nice job with the first part of the film, setting the stage for what is ultimately a disappointing conclusion.

It is all very respectful, all very serious, all very important-feeling and often a little dull. As such, it’s a good start for Portman, with promise of better things to come.

Individually Christmas and Robinson are outstanding. Together they are even better, making Morris from America an unexpected treat.

Helped by good performances from Edgar Ramirez as Duran, Usher Raymond as Leonard and Robert De Niro as Duran’s trainer, Ray Arcel, the film chugs along well enough, but never rises close to boxing films like “Raging Bull” (few films do) or “Creed.”

Alvarez puts us in the interesting position of rooting for the bad guy, and continually changing our ideas of who that is, a genuinely intriguing idea. Don’t Breathe doesn’t always live up to that potential, but for much of the movie it comes close.

If you’re a fan willing to look past his misfires (or why he agreed to a “Bad News Bears” remake) or a film buff wondering about how a director operates on a set, “Dream Is Destiny” will be a delight.

It’s another showcase for Streep — nothing new on that front, but still enjoyable.

The comedy hits more than it misses; this is a really funny movie. And it’s thoughtful, in its @$*# way.

Pete’s Dragon is a good movie. But it could have used a little more of the magic its characters are searching for.

Foster was born to this kind of role, rugged but soulful, and he’s outstanding. The surprise is Pine, giving by far his best performance.

Indignation sneaks up on you, and that may be its greatest difference from the blockbuster mentality. Its explosions are quieter, but just as destructive.

Birbiglia, whose previous feature was the well-received “Sleepwalk with Me,” has made a tiny gem, a delightful film as surprising as it is satisfying.

It’s probably best to think of Suicide Squad as a primer, an entry into a side world of the DC Universe that may pay bigger benefits in later films. It certainly seems like that’s how the filmmakers thought of it.

Should you see it? Sure. The absolutely absurd, over-the-top Vegas chase scene assures you’ll get your money’s worth in ridiculousness. (Not all of Greengrass’ set pieces are smart.) But in truth, you’ll be there because it’s a Bourne movie, and you’ll like it a little better than you should because it is.

In the past, I’ve given D’Souza the benefit of the doubt, going out of my way to be extra objective. I actually gave “2016: Obama’s America” a somewhat positive review in 2012 (3 out of 5 stars). But this thing is madness.

You certainly won't be bored. And if you go into Nerve looking for a thrill ride, you won't be disappointed. If you're hoping for more, that's a different story.

The movie isn’t particularly hard to figure out and doesn’t try to be. Its charms lie more in what the actors make of characters that could have been cliches (or, if you’re in a kinder mood, archetypes) and its gorgeous look.

The scares here are in the execution, aided by the acting. Bello is, like always, terrific, adding layers to what seems at first like the stereotypical mentally-ill movie character. She's fighting for something. Palmer, too, adds grit to her would-be iconoclast.

It’s a knowing nod to the past fused with a contemporary cast confident in the present, and where the franchise might take it in the future.

What matters is creating, and “Eat That Question” turns out to be a stirring look at the creative process examined, however reluctantly, by someone who created a lot, and exceptionally well.

Through it all, you can’t stop watching Ben, Mortensen’s character. At some point, though, you realize it’s no longer because you admire him for his ideals but want to strangle him for his undying adherence to them.

The new Ghostbusters is a pretty funny movie, a goofy take on the goofy original that has some good laughs and a dopey story.

Thanks to Cranston’s performance — along with a game supporting cast — and Brad Furman’s tension-building direction, the movie works.

Long story short: Hunt for the Wilderpeople is a terrific movie and you should do whatever you can to see it.

Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates gives us too much hangover and not enough buzz.

The Secret Life of Pets is a pleasant-enough movie that would have been much better had it lived up to its title.

There are obviously a lot of parts here, and they don’t all fit together successfully; the shift in tone toward the end is particularly unsettling. But it’s not for lack of ambition on the part of the Daniels, nor the performances by Dano and Radcliffe.

There are some good ideas in there, even timely. But eventually, like everything else in the movie, they’re washed away in a sea of blood and a hail of bullets.

While there is some magic here, it’s not the transportive experience it might have been.

As in “The Searchers,” some of the motivations are questionable and murky. Yet the pain of losing someone you love is just as palpable.

Laughably bad dialogue and wooden acting.

Genuine, honest, thrilling.

Free State of Jones is a well-intentioned slog through a potentially fascinating bit of Civil War history, brought to life only by Matthew McConaughey’s performance, and then only occasionally.

The film is visually striking, even if the images don’t always make sense.

The music and the group are uplifting. The stories are inspiring.

The Shallows is pretty much a woman stranded on a rock, with a big shark between her and the shore. “We’re gonna need a bigger boat?” “We’re gonna need a smaller bikini,” more like.

If you’re a literature junkie, and I cringe at typing the phrase because it sounds so quaint in a world of 140-character expressions of self, then the film has its fascinating moments. The performances aren’t really among them.

The hidden magic in De Palma is Baumbach and Paltrow’s editing. The pacing is just right, and the stories flow, one from another. Sit back, relax, watch, listen and learn. It’s a good time at the movies.