Chris Nashawaty

Still, my real beef with these movies — and this one in particular — is how same-y they’ve started to feel. Each time out, everything is at stake and nothing is at stake.

There aren’t enough laughs here to goose it past formulaic. It’s harmless and mild and likable, but it’s also a toothless comedy that should have had some bite.

It proves that Morgen isn’t interested in hagiography. He wants to show us the real Kurt Cobain, warts and all.

It happens more often than it should: A cast of sterling actors is assembled for a movie that doesn’t come close to equaling the sum of its parts.

If Ingmar Bergman had directed a remake of "All About Eve," it might have looked something like Clouds of Sils Maria. Mysterious and narratively playful, Olivier Assayas’ film features a trio of finely calibrated female performances that examine the psychological toll of being an actress — or working for one.

Ex Machina is beautiful and ominous and features another delicately nuanced performance from Isaac, who’s quickly making a habit of them. But in the end, for all of Garland’s ambition, his reach winds up exceeding his grasp. The film is as synthetic as Ava.

While the film has an undeniably sexy glow, it’s too earnest and sappy by half. Fortunately, Frank Langella and Glenn Close drop by as Brian’s disapproving parents.

No one forks over 10 bucks to see one of these flicks for its logic. We go for the bananas demolition-derby mayhem. Furious 7 delivers that with the direct visceral rush of an EpiPen.

With this heartbreaking yet hopeful new documentary about his life’s work, Salgado shares the stories behind these split-second black-and-white moments, giving them even more dimension.

After a while, the director of the more perceptive "Frances Ha" and "The Squid and the Whale" tips his hand, painting the aging Xers as guardians of integrity and the millennials as opportunists. It’s a cheap shot, and it feels like he’s telling the kids to get off his lawn. It’s not Stiller’s character who’s the curmudgeon, it’s Baumbach.

None of it would work without the two leads: As the author on the run, Ayako Fujitani conjures a rare mix of demureness and daring. And as the sleuthing lawman, Pepe Serna uses his cement-mixer voice and boxer’s mug to convey a real bloodhound determination.

Get Hard is not only a bad movie but a profoundly wasted opportunity.

Is Kumiko simply naive, or is she mentally ill? The film’s perfect ending doesn’t try to solve that riddle, but it will make you feel as if you’ve just seen something hypnotically original.

Sean Penn doesn’t make movies very often these days. So when he does, you go in with certain expectations. Sadly, it’s best to leave them at the concession stand if you’re planning on enjoying The Gunman.

A dizzyingly tense and creepy workout.

The fizzy cocktail combination of Blanchett’s cartoonish hauteur and Branagh’s visual razzle-dazzle and confectionary sets (courtesy of the legendary Dante Ferretti) manages to take a tale as wheezy as Cinderella and make it feel almost magical again.

Predictable, corny, and mild.

What keeps the film humming along as smoothly as it does is the chemistry and charisma of its leads.

Tonally, the movie can’t decide whether it’s a comedy, a romance, or a wistful wartime madeleine. What it’s missing is the sense of joy and wonder of its predecessor.

With so little backstory and character depth, it’s nothing more than a pointless exercise in brutal, nasty style.

Damián Szifron’s Wild Tales almost feels too audacious, too crazy, and, in some ways, too slight for the Oscars.

The race for the worst film of 2015 is officially on.

It’s a comedy that’s so witless and unfunny and shoddily made it makes "The Hangover 2" look like "The Godfather 2."

Now, in Johanna Hamilton’s fiery truth-to-power documentary, those gray-haired agitators finally step out of the shadows to explain what they did and why they did it (with the help of some slightly hokey dramatic reenactments). Their message—namely, Who will watch the watchmen? — remains as important today as it was 44 years ago.

Stanley Tucci, Hope Davis, Anne Heche, and Sofia Vergara all pop up in glorified cameos and give the movie more fizz than their roles require. Which begs the question: Why would they sign on for such thankless, bite-size roles?

It taps into every parent's worst nightmare — the horror of being unable to protect an out-of-control child.

Thanks to Gabe Polsky's enthralling new documentary, we finally get to see these athletes for who they really were—it humanizes a group of men who were cast by history in the role of villains.

Everything about Vice feels like recycled goods. It's basically "Westworld" meets "Blade Runner" programmed by glitchy filmmaking replicators.