Elizabeth Weitzman

Teller is, by far, the best thing about this easygoing, stubbornly generic independent romance from Max Nichols (son of Oscar-winning director Mike Nichols).

In a movie, nothing good ever seems to happen at a country house. And when it comes to this film, nothing very interesting happens, either.

No, there’s nothing new here. But sometimes it’s enough to be merely entertained, rather than amazed.

The scenery is stunning and the story compelling, but some viewers will find it easier to admire Tracks than to engage with this meditative tale of Robyn Davidson (played beautifully by Mia Wasikowska).

There are no twists or even surprises, except the final realization that director Alan White is taking his culturally clueless, ineptly shot B-movie totally seriously. Judging from the uniformly underwhelming performances, he’s the only one.

Tusk is alternately amusing, appalling and frustrating. It’s also unique.

We already know Kristen Wiig can act. So the real revelation in The Skeleton Twins is Bill Hader, who turns in a performance so overflowing with poignancy that he deserves to be considered on any early awards list.

The film rests, though, on the sturdy shoulders of Chastain and McAvoy. They don’t share the intense chemistry this couple really needs, but they commit to the individual stories with touching persuasion.

It’s almost painful to watch the immense promise of The Congress, Ari Folman’s spectacularly ambitious experiment, dissipate into nothing.

This uneven directorial debut from Jen McGowan is notable mostly for a nicely understated turn from Juliette Lewis.

Thematically tough and emotionally rough, Starred Up is the kind of movie you might enter into with some reluctance. But because everyone involved does such an outstanding job, it's also the kind of movie you won't want to see end.

You won't get much back story, and the action is fairly generic. But The Damned still makes for a serviceable horror flick, with better performances than a movie of this caliber usually offers.

There’s a potentially fascinating series waiting to be mined here, even if it is buried beneath bland visuals and a pedestrian script on the big-screen.

Ultimately it’s the cast, more than the crime, that gives this story life.

Writer-director Carter Smith got his start as a successful fashion photographer. But you wouldn’t know it from the murky look of this generic thriller.

Even in the lazy days of late August, this movie is hardly worth the price of popcorn.

There’s a surprising lack of provocation to this determinedly positive portrait. As a result, the movie often feels like a full-length ad for a great workplace, which just happens to stash whips and chains in the stationery closet.

Director Jennifer Kroot’s good-natured biography is so appealing that even non-Trekkies may be convinced we needed a full-length documentary about the man who was Sulu.

The compelling Draper’s the creation of “Mad Men” mastermind Matthew Weiner, the writer-director of Are You Here. Which begs the question: how could Weiner make, as his debut comedy, a movie as amateurish and off-putting as this one?

The movie is designed not to explore the experience of illness, or first love, or adolescence, but merely to make us swoon, sigh, and sob.

Coogan and Brydon make terrific companions for us partially because, at least as they appear onscreen, they’re so amusingly incompatible themselves.

Anyone looking for a date-night flick will be inclined to fall for Michael Dowse’s aggressively adorable What If. Just be warned: The single-minded determination to win you over may wind up pushing you away.

Once Quale and writer John Swetnam get their generic setup out of the way, they can loosen up and treat the tornadoes like the villains they are. The effectively simulated storms, with their massive wreckage, start to feel like monsters stalking the heroes.

It’s admirable that writer/director Michael Walker wanted to make a socially conscious thriller. But surely he didn’t have to replace all the thrills with broadly moralizing messages.

On the bright side, the actors are experienced enough to anchor their free-floating characters. But if you’d like to see this sort of thing done well, watch 2011’s infinitely superior Channing Tatum dramedy “10 Years” on Netflix instead.

Each viewer is likely to connect with a different character initially, but don’t be surprised if you switch allegiances several times before the story ends.

An excellent Keener commits reliably to the role and does give us moments worth savoring. But the underwritten script and misguided direction leave her stranded.

It’s McCarthy’s complex use of language, rather than the plot’s grueling imagery, that elevate the book. There’s simply not enough insight here to make the punishment worthwhile.