Brad Wheeler

The so-so film’s soul and saving grace is Rossy de Palma, the Picasso-esque muse of filmmaker Pedro Almodóvar, who steals the show and, as the family maid, the heart of a British art dealer.

A so-so remake of the low-budget 2010 film "Ghost from the Machine" that comes off as run-of-the-mill paranormal thriller. No electricity, one might say.

Young Joan is played by Sophie Cookson, magnetic in the role. Dench is underused, though. The film’s suspense is waiting on the world-class actress to bust out some chops. It never happens. The spy who bored me, rather.

There’s no thrill to this thriller. Nor is there nuance to the characters.

Bushwick is an unpolished work, but there's an adrenalin charge, sure thing. It's close combat and it's closer than most Americans might wish to believe.

The Miracle Season is a simple movie of straightforward sentimentalism and gung-ho, against-all-odds inspiration.

With its old-fashioned look, quaint unsophistication and self-consciously big heart, this film is Hoosiers meets The Longest Yard, with an Oliver Twist.

Brody plays opposite Yvonne Strahovski, whose femme fatale is less like Lauren Bacall and more like Sharon Stone. Unfortunately, Strahovski’s flat portrayal lacks the basic instincts of Stone, though she does uncross her legs, and that is central to the curve-balling, sex-tape plot.

The whole cast is capable. The comedy doesn’t pop, though, and even a nifty late-film reveal can’t save this film from failing to live up to its potential.

Although One Love is not a great music biopic, it serves as an acceptable portrait of the man.

Heartstrings are pulled like a puppy’s leash; nothing much unpredictable happens.

The well-acted Clara lacks clarity, and there’s nothing worse than an out-of-focus telescope.

A delightful and polished stop-motion adventure-comedy and droll comment on colonialism.

For most of the feeble, unmoving 109 minutes of The Art of Racing in the Rain, a Kevin Costner-voiced golden retriever named Enzo longs for death. I felt the same way.

The comedy is sophomoric and sort-of spoofy; satire happens here and there.

Perhaps Howard’s dutiful obligation to Brown’s treasure-hunt oeuvre will end here, with the temperate Inferno sparking a resurgence to follow. Dante wrote that “The poets leave hell and again behold the stars.” Here’s hoping that Howard has some shine left in him.

Although rich in cast, the bad-boy-chef dramedy Burnt is unremarkable otherwise.

A few plot contrivances aside, the unspectacular Bad Samaritan is tense and disturbing enough, and worth its weight in popcorn.

Eerie and unpredictable, Strangerland holds attention, even if traditional suspense tricks are avoided like they were dingos at the daycare.

Some might find it stimulating. Others will find it bonkers. Watching Jude Law do a slow-motion howl, for example, is certainly … something.

Anna relies on a time-shifting structure that is laughably exhausting.

A lazy Melissa McCarthy vehicle that relies on relentless potty-mouth moments.

The thin premise is just an excuse for an ultra-violent film. Worse, with the final scene, the suggestion is made that all the mayhem was the woman’s fault. Unhinged falls down in the worst ways possible.

With its jazzy score and drizzly nighttime moods, where The Comedian works best is as a salute to New York stand-up scene, with looks into the Comedy Cellar in Greenwich Village and the New York Friars Club.

They’re back for an entertaining enough 3-D sequel to their 2014 franchise revival, and so is the rest of the cast that includes foxy Megan Fox and her ability to wear a naughty schoolgirl outfit.

Still, the thing is almost watchable until a ridiculous reveal spoils whatever chances this film had at succeeding.

Franco’s outlandish Laird dude is fascinatingly unfiltered, either when it comes to his non-stop F-bombs or his love-seeking shenanigans. It’s all a bit rompy, with a touch of the-world-is-a-changin’ commentary.

Rock 'n’ roll biopics can be mindless fun, but they never deserve to be this empty-headed.