Chris Nashawaty

Tough to watch, but essential.

Pitt, for instance, could've used a scene like Tom Hanks' in "Saving Private Ryan," where we learn something — anything — about his life back home and what he's fighting for besides the Stars and Stripes. Instead, Fury (the title comes from the name of the tank) just plods from one brutal, bloody combat scene to the next.

I can't think of anyone under 40 who plays arrogant, self-absorbed jerks more convincingly than Jason Schwartzman. I have no clue what the actor's like in real life, but if he's not a complete prick, he deserves an Oscar.

Birdman is a scalpel-sharp dissection of Hollywood, Broadway, and fame in the 21st century. But more than that, it's a testament to Keaton's enduring charisma and power as an actor. He soars.

If you can appreciate the sight of two totally dialed-in performers simmering until they boil over, that's enough. And P.S., that's pretty much the definition of jazz.

What makes the film more than just a dusty Grisham retread is that the case (as compelling as it is) is merely the backdrop for a more emotionally engaging story about fathers and sons played, like a duet, by two virtuoso actors who give the film not only all they have but probably more than it requires.

Murray, of course, can play a redeemable misanthrope with one hand tied behind his back. Unfortunately, that's exactly what he has to do here because writer-director Theodore Melfi reins in his leading man with a script that doesn't know when to stop troweling on the sap.

It's a deeply touching story about survival, perseverance, and hope.

The problem isn't so much what the film is saying but its shrill, alarmist tone. You don't have to be a sociological genius to look at all of us walking down the street like zombies, obliviously staring at our smartphones, and know that something's wrong.

The film's lack of such signature Hendrix tunes as ''Purple Haze'' may put off some — the filmmakers couldn't get the rights — but I'd argue that this obstacle forced Ridley to zig where most biopics zag. Which, when you think about it, is fitting for the story of a lefty who played his guitar upside down.

Anyone who loved Gone Girl the book will walk out of Gone Girl the movie with a sick grin on their face. You can stop being nervous.

The first two-thirds of The Maze Runner are a clever feat of fantasy world building. It's thrilling, twisty, and as mysterious as the mammoth Skinner Box environment the film takes place in. But the promising set-up raises so many puzzle-piece questions that when it's all finally explained in the final reel, you can't help feeling a bit gypped.

All of which leaves you wondering: Why cast such talented, interesting, and edgy performers if you're only going to ask them play it safe?

The fact is, Dock Ellis was...complicated. Probably a lot more so than No No makes him out to be.

It's a shockingly vulnerable performance (Hader), one of the best I've seen all year.

Ari Folman's meta-commentary on Hollywood in the soulless digital age starts off promisingly, like a Charlie Kaufman mind scrambler. But then it spirals into logy animated nonsense.

Like Eric Bana's menacingly raw breakout in 2000's "Chopper" or Tom Hardy's in 2008's "Bronson," O'Connell bristles with terrifying hair-trigger unpredictability. Watching him, you feel like you're witnessing the arrival of a new movie star.

If I Stay never bothers to go after authenticity when there's a cliché hovering nearby. That may not be enough of a drawback to prevent teenage audiences from lapping up the movie with a spoon, but they certainly deserve better.

Charlie McDowell's romantic brainteaser is disarmingly clever — too clever to spoil. But it's also repetitive and a bit too Spike Jonze lite.

The best thing about it is its star, P.J. Boudousqué, who locates a sense of terror and betrayal that the script lacks.

So let me just say that this latest rah-rah red-meat installment is the biggest and best surprise of the series. It has its flaws, but it's mostly a big, dumb, gruntingly monosyllabic hoot.

In Mad Men mastermind Matthew Weiner's big-screen directorial debut, the aggressively unfunny Are You Here, all of the dark humor and delicate character shadings we're used to seeing on his TV series are conspicuously absent. He's swapped nuance for blunt-edged numskullery.

While this sequel lacks the novelty of the first course, it's just as soulful and silly.

The premise would make for a great Funny or Die video, but stretched out to feature length, it runs out of ideas pretty quickly. Still, Plaza is terrific. She commits so fully to her rabid, Romero-esque alter ego, she chews the movie up.

I never entirely bought the flirty détente between the two or believed in the rapturous power of a perfectly cooked sea urchin to solve the world's problems. But for two hours, at least, I swallowed it with a smile.

The film's a giddily subversive space opera that runs on self-aware smart-assery.

Get On Up too often plays it safe when it needs to be dangerous.

While it's breezy and funny and perfectly pleasant, you probably won't remember this particular gift by the time the next birthday rolls around.