Frank Scheck

The musical interludes — which include gorgeous versions of such songs as “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” “Where the Streets Have No Name,” “Vertigo,” “Desire” and “Beautiful Day,” among others — provide a welcome contrast to the film’s inevitable talkiness. Ditto the kinetic cinematography and editing, which give the proceedings an arresting cinematic quality.

This is the sort of movie in which even the opening credits, which continue until nearly the half-hour mark, are unbearably pretentious.

The charisma-endowed Washington and Sy do all they can to make the proceedings engrossing but even they are hard-pressed to make it interesting.

Final Destination Bloodlines gives its audiences exactly what they expect. Namely, a series of ingeniously designed, diabolical Rube Goldberg-style fatalities that are mostly so within the realm of possibility that you’ll find yourself crossing the street very carefully after you leave the theater.

[Hartnett's] charisma and surprising flair for physical comedy elevate this B-movie into something approaching A-level status, even if it’s ultimately undercut by its low-budget limitations and awkward tonal shifts.

While the film doesn’t chart any particularly new territory, it benefits greatly from Franklin’s subtle screenplay and performances infusing it with emotional power that sneaks up on you.

Their low-key chemistry and obvious affection for each other despite their past issues are still very much on display, delivering a nostalgic kick that you don’t even have to be high to enjoy.

Some genre fans will be disappointed by the film’s slow-burn style and the cryptic nature of Sam Stefanak’s screenplay, including its twist ending that’s open to interpretation. But for anyone more interested in cerebral horror and less in watching arteries gushing and entrails popping out, The Woman in the Yard offers considerable rewards.

Statham’s simmering charisma is on ample display here, and if he never quite convinces as an average Joe, he’s more than convincing as someone a bad guy should never want to see coming.

It all plays as artificially as it sounds, but as tautly directed by David Yarovesky (Brightburn), Locked manages to maintain its silly but arresting premise throughout its fortunately brief running time.

He’s more than capable of handling the daunting assignment — he’s De Niro, after all — but the net effect is ultimately so gimmicky that it saps the movie of its intended seriousness. It’s a fatal miscalculation that consigns The Alto Knights, Levinson’s first theatrical film since 2015’s Rock the Kasbah, to being a footnote in the distinguished careers of both its director and star.

Good Boy works well enough on its own terms, managing to sustain sufficient tension throughout the course of its smartly concise 73-minute running time.

Like many advocacy documentaries, October 8 does some cherry-picking of facts and draws some questionable conclusions. But there’s no denying the importance of its message and the need for corrective action by political, academic, religious and civil leaders.

Despite its occasionally stale elements, the film succeeds movingly thanks to the inherent power of its narrative and the terrific performances by Boosher and the four young actresses (Amber Afzali, Nina Hosseinzadeh, Sara Malal Rowe, and Mariam Saraj) as the team members.

The numerous fight scenes, which often lapse into extreme gore, are as amusing as they are exciting.

It’s ultimately Rickards, who handles the intense physical and emotional demands of her role with consummate skill, that gives the film its heart and soul.

Unlike so many of Anderson’s efforts, In the Lost Lands isn’t adapted from a video game. But it sure as hell feels like one, and not one that would be fun to play.

Director Parkinson has lived with this story for so long now that he knows exactly how to ratchet up the tension and manages to make the action visually compelling even though much of it takes place in dark and murky underwater conditions.

Director Campbell clearly knows his way around this sort of material, resulting in some tense, well-staged action sequences that make Cleaner reasonably diverting for its concise running time. But the film never achieves the heights of the classic actioners that clearly inspired it, and its overuse of familiar genre tropes (for once, can’t the main villain be uncharismatic, like so many in real life?) soon becomes wearisome.

Unfortunately, Captain America: Brave New World proves a lackluster Marvel entry that feels as if its complicated storyline has been painstakingly worked out without a shred of inspiration.

Straining for its ungainly combination of action, romance and silly comedy, Love Hurts doesn’t fully succeed in any department.

The creatives’ obvious affinity for the genre comes through in every frame of the film, and to their credit Heart Eyes includes many clever touches.

Many viewers will no doubt feel initially disdainful of John’s recklessly dangerous pursuits, but the film presents his inner struggles so empathetically that by the end all you feel is sadness for a life tragically lost.

The animation, too, is consistently delightful, densely crammed with visual gags and imaginative flourishes.

Ferrell works hard, very hard, to put the material over, and to his credit, he occasionally succeeds by dint of his boundless comic energy. And Witherspoon, returning to the sort of broad comedy with which she triumphed in such films as Legally Blonde, matches him effectively with her sharp timing and appealing screen persona.

Flight Risk manages to deliver some high-altitude thrills in its breathlessly paced 91 minutes. But its clunky dialogue, uneven performances and less-than-grade-A special effects ultimately make it the Spirit Airlines of airborne thrillers.

[Yeoh] has such a commanding and darkly amusing screen presence that the pedestrian film can almost, but not quite, be forgiven for letting her down so completely.

The gimmickry ultimately wears thin and you find yourself thinking less about the inventive way the scenes were shot . . . than the flimsy narrative.