G. Allen Johnson

John Lithgow and Blythe Danner make an offbeat and winning combination, with total belief that they’re in a really good movie. Unfortunately, they’re not.

Ultimately, it is Ronan who transcends the material and almost wills “The Outrun” into something more than the sum of its parts. Her Rona is tempestuous and passionate, and soon discovers that to master herself she must surrender to nature.

As a woman struggling to define her own narrative, Yeo delivers a layered, heartbreaking performance. But she is ultimately ill-served by both the inertness of the story and Chen’s awkward approach to the material in the final half-hour (no spoilers here).

Polish director Malgorzata Szumowska (“The Other Lamb”) directs for the big screen, with eye-pleasing mountain visuals (the Slovenian Alps subs for Mount Washington) and a well-executed adventure. But when the setting is in civilization, the drama grinds to a halt.

The "coming out" genre in gay and lesbian films is really getting stale - the plots are as by-the-numbers as a Bruce Willis action flick - and Edge of Seventeen is hampered by not only predictability but by its shoestring budget (a coup, however, was getting Thompson Twins composer Tom Baily to do the score).

There are some rumblings about the sea monsters wanting to express their true selves and being accepted by humans even though they are different, yadda yadda, but it’s not very well developed and Luca, like its charming village at low tide, is a shallow dip in the water.

Yes, Charli is playing a version of herself, but she does it well.

This latest installation in the “Big Fat Greek” franchise is colorful and celebratory, eager to entertain and wears its heart on its sleeve. There’s something to be said for that.

Bratton has made a film that isn’t necessarily anti-military — he is no doubt proud of his service — but pro-humanity. In a sense, Ellis is going through his own personal boot camp. Perhaps the film should have been called “The Introspection.”

While “Viet and Nam” is filled from beginning to end with outstanding visuals and thought-provoking ideas, it is perhaps too lethargic and, at a little over two hours, overlong. Yet there is still much to enjoy.

While it is imminently watchable, it’s a movie that consists of mostly people sitting at tables with fantastic period clothing plotting and scheming, but sometimes barely moving at all.

Working from a script by Jeff Nathanson, Jenkins, who got his filmmaking start in San Francisco and directed the best picture-winning “Moonlight” (2016), efficiently tells a simple story very well, although his style isn’t that much different from that of Jon Favreau, who directed the first computer-animated film.

I found “Cats” pretty bland, but it has its moments of catnip, and as a holiday movie option that anyone could see, it might be just the ticket.

The Hill is meant to be inspiring, of course, and to some, it might be, but the vibe is more reassuring in the way that it does not deviate from the standard-issue formula of such movies. It is a cinematic case of confirmation bias, designed to fulfill preexisting values and beliefs.

Oh, Canada is about not so much Fife’s artistic growth as his journey to hermetically sealed narcissism.

Remembering Gene Wilder is a pleasant retro journey for fans and an efficient introduction to a comic genius for cineasts who might not know his work. It could have been so much more.

There is a sweet romantic comedy action that sometimes emerges in this bone crunching, bloody spectacle, but only occasionally does it surface.

Targeted as Valentine’s Day comfort cinema, the new Paramount+ movie At Midnight is as sappy and predictable as it sounds, with walks along the beach, romantic getaways, candy-colored scenery and, of course, the inevitable mix-ups, misunderstandings and silly arguments that are requirements of the rom-com genre.

A film with no context, it is a sporadically interesting, overlong look at the legend as she nears 70, still performing before her legions of fans.

Reminiscence is never not interesting, but Joy leaves a lot of the intriguing issues unsatisfactorily explored.

The second-half of Burning is allegorical and intentionally obtuse. It’s intriguing, even. But it all leads to an ending that satisfies no one, especially after 2½ hours.

In the Blink of an Eye proves yet again that Stanton is a dreamer, with an unshakeable faith in humanity. That’s not nothing.

Suffice to say that McNeil plays it way too safe. Trying to have it both ways, he satisfies no one.

Isn’t bad, but it seems unnecessary. It’s even a little bland.

The problem with Birth of the Dragon, George Nolfi’s largely fictionalized account of a 1964 fight between an Oakland martial arts instructor named Bruce Lee and San Francisco instructor Wong Jack Man is that Lee...is the third-most important character in the film.

It becomes somewhat pleasantly watchable because the muddled script and dangling story lines are delivered and explored by truly charismatic actors who can, at least for a while, breathe life into something where none should exist...Even if they’re moping in a corner.

It’s hard to make a two-plus-hour chase movie like this compelling, but Wright gives it a go by peppering the cast with brief appearances by characters far more interesting who help Ben along his way.

The Beach Boys is a breezy CliffsNotes version of the band’s ups and downs and cultural relevance and should interest established fans — even if they know it all already — and younger music enthusiasts who are looking for a window in.