G. Allen Johnson

White, who has done documentaries about Serena Williams, Beatles secretary Freda Kelly and the Netlfix series “The Keepers,” is an efficient storyteller who keeps things moving. There is a wealth of archival material, and clips from her 1980s television life. He neatly makes the case for Westheimer; openly talking about sex is now commonplace, but not when she started.

If you buy the gross, it's surprisingly funny .

A fascinating documentary that seems to unfold over real time.

A consistently absorbing, often gripping, sometimes muddled whydidhedoit (because we already know whodunit), The Third Murder moves along Kore-eda’s customary careful, incisive pace, yet manages to be, for the most part, a riveting legal thriller.

With a sense of eccentric macabre that recalls Roald Dahl and Charles Addams, The Willoughbys arrives on Netflix with a winning, eclectic energy that should have kids — like the animated moppets in the film — bouncing off the walls. In a good way, of course.

It’s hardly a masterpiece — it’s a fairly simple tale, well-told, with a silly, derivative climax and rather disappointingly brief depiction of the Yeti culture. Yet it is blessedly devoid of the manic, ADD pace of many animated movies, with a winning trio of characters. As Commander McBragg might say, “Jolly good show!”

A Quiet Place: Day One is about a cancer patient in hospice who hopes to die with dignity. Also, there are terrible monsters threatening humanity. What an odd idea for a horror prequel.

Crime 101 is often smart, ultimately ridiculous — man, that ending! — and mostly absorbing. But as with Davis’ sleek rides, your mileage may vary.

Superman is a mess, but it’s a colorful one. It’s either a terrible superhero movie or an OK parody, take your pick.

Pleasing, it is. Good, solid stuff. But one wonders how much better the film would have been had von Donnersmarck honestly explored the life of his inspiration, artist Gerhard Richter, rather than the fictional “Kurt Barnert.”

Buoyed by an appealing lead performance by John Hawkes, Small Town Crime is a smart, sharply written detective story that, though not without humor, plays it straight and tough.

Especially terrific is Rieger, who is a 25-year-old rising star in Israel. She displays a fierce intensity and an appealing vulnerability, and here’s betting that if she chose to, she could follow Gal Gadot’s path from Israel to Hollywood stardom.

It’s punctuated by the landscape of the demon slayers’ past, through their memories. Idyllic lakes and streams; gently falling snow; a small village. “Infinity Castle,” then, is a place of potential redemption and reclamation, of souls and reputations and a sense of one’s inner self.

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).

A horror “comedy” about a deranged 12-year-old boy with a script that feels like it was written by a deranged 12-year-old boy.

Hawke is effectively brooding, which recalls his first collaboration with Almereyda, a 2000 adaptation of “Hamlet” set in modern-day New York City.

Bite the Bullet is epic Americana, gorgeously filmed, and a candidate for most underrated film of the 1970s. [10 Jun 2012, p.20]

Freaky is, dare we say, soul-sucking?

I don’t want to give too much away, but Amoo’s direction is strong, and his film moves in unexpected directions. Stil Williams’ cinematography is divine. Adewunmi and Ikumelo are excellent, and kudos to Pinnock, Tai Golding as young Femi, Denise Black as the foster mom, Demmy Ladipo as a gang leader and Ruthxjiah Bellenea as a potential love interest who shares Femi’s love for the Cure.

A tense, nail-biting thriller featuring powerhouse performances.

Oftentimes da Vinci is pleasantly lost in the cosmos of his mind, what Willy Wonka called “pure imagination.” The target audience of “The Inventor” will surely relate.

This doesn’t have the budget or the marketing push of “Pet Sematary,” the other horror film out this week, but The Wind has a boldness and imagination that transcends such limitations. This is indie horror at its best.

Peterloo, despite top-notch set and costume design, is this claustrophobic, interior movie. And despite the wall-to-wall dialogue, there is little character development — everyone seems to be a “type” rather than an actual person. So when the massacre does come at the end of the film, it is oddly underwhelming.

Sarsgaard and Jones are good actors, and both are fine. The real star, though, is sound designer Ian Gaffney-Rosenfeld and his team, who bring a depth and dimension to the story that sorely needs it.

Charmingly quirky.

Decker proudly revels in Lennie’s scattered uniqueness, even as Lennie navigates the minefield of her choices and says some truly kooky things (“I wish my shadow could get up and walk beside me”). YA movies might not be your bag, but if they are, perhaps the NorCal vibe of “The Sky Is Everywhere” will strike a weepy chord.

Swan Song, of course, belongs to Ali. He conveys Cameron’s vise grip of moral dilemma, fear of dying and concern for his family visually, often wordlessly, and it is a complex, layered performance. Let’s just say this is an unusual way to confront your inner demons.

It is so narrowly focused on neurotic obsessions that the quest for finding that fundamental nature of ultimate reality is sidetracked. What kind of approach is that for a Buddhist? Ferrara takes the easy way out.

Directed by the Oscar-winning Domee Shi (“Turning Red”), Alameda native Madeline Sharafian and Adrian Molina (“Coco”), the visually appealing “Elio” moves confidently and delicately handles themes of isolation, grief, family strife and friendship.

Director and co-writer/producer Gavin O’Connor’s meticulous drama feels authentic all the way around. The basketball feels real. The high school kids seem real. Jack’s relationship with his estranged wife Angela (Janina Gavankar) is very believable.

Like practically every other animated movie meant for mass consumption, the movie gets lost in the chase — the point where story flow is interrupted so that characters get lost as they try to achieve their objective and a manufactured villain is trying to keep them from their goal.

The Space Race is an illuminating, absorbing film about an underreported storyline in our astronaut programs.

Barbara Walters Tell Me Everything begins as a fawning “greatest hits” collection. Then, in the second half, it deepens.

Complete with cliches and culturally cringe-inducing stereotypes — poor but happy villagers, sweaty villains — Peruvians will hardly use this film in their tourist advertising.

Stars at Noon has some interesting ideas, and a general fatalistic malaise creates a perversely appealing Le Carré-esque mood. But it’s so vague — perhaps because Denis doesn’t understand Central America as much as she does West Africa — that its impact melts in the heat of its near equatorial setting.

A fascinating guide to its subject and her work, but the emotional wall Kusama lives behind remains unbroken. She is a loner and a mystery.

There is a point of view here, a rather strong one. It may sound like slight praise, but Love Jones is a movie that is exactly what it wants to be, and that's an achievement in a homogenized, test-marketed vanilla-movie landscape.

Truth be told, the latest Darren Aronofsky film, which Oakland native Charlie Huston adapted from his own novel, is well made and contains terrific performances. It is a true original. But it’s also depressingly soul-killing and nihilistic, with a plot twist that fairly deep-sixes it for this critic.

The cast is uniformly good, but it’s Bardem’s sly, harried performance that powers this overlong, and more amusing than funny, comedy.

White structures the documentary as an absorbing adventure tale, and that it is.

But after two instant classics in “Raya and the Last Dragon” and “Encanto” in 2021, “Strange World,” while pleasing, is a bit of a step down for Walt Disney Animation.

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

Directed by Livermore-raised Josh Cooley, an Oscar-winner for “Toy Story 4,” “Transformers One” is for the inner child, and unapologetically so. And for the adults in the room, you can read it as a pro-union tale as worker bots unite.

Phoenix is the perfect instrument for Aster’s bleak and self-destructive view of humanity. Consider “Eddington” a warning.

Rylance is always good, but director Craig Roberts, to use a golf term, lays up instead of going for the pin. In other words, he plays it safe.

Because there’s nary a situation that seems reality-based and uncontrived in this movie that has all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, filled with over-the-top cardboard characters that seem sneered upon by their creator. If Mirabella-Davis doesn’t believe in his characters, why should we?

Nostalgia, as mentioned, is a factor. But the key to its success is its focus on family and hope.

This is a lean, fast-moving and effective movie, with an undersea world that is as vast and lonely as outer space.

Naomi Kawase’s films don’t hammer toward arbitrary plot points but flow like water, so “True Mothers” doesn’t unfold like a Hollywood blockbuster, or indeed, even most arthouse films. It courses along softly and confidently, with unexpected ebbs and estuaries.

MaXXXine, clearly boasting a higher budget, stands as a bloody valentine to Hollywood. It’s a cesspool, all right, but it’s our cesspool, he seems to say, and guess what? Every once in a while true art comes out of it.

It wears its heart on its sleeve and is a bit too sentimental, but it is sweet and pleasing.

Jerome and Lopez build an undeniable chemistry that powers the movie, and it wouldn’t work at all unless Jerome wasn’t excellent as well. He is.

The problem with Ready or Not is that directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett (“V/H/S”) don’t know what kind of movie they want to make, or what to do with their heroine. There are constant shifts in tone — is it a comedy, like the trapped-in-a-mansion “Murder By Death”? A satire on the rich? A kick-ass revenge picture?

The best thing about Ella Fitzgerald: Just One of Those Things, other than the music, is the way it evokes an era and reminds us that its subject was one of the great voices of the 20th century.

The biggest betrayal of The Traitor is its crime against the usually compelling Mafia movie genre. This is an offer you can refuse.

So while Fuqua’s The Guilty is not much different from the original, his direction is crisp, Gyllenhaal’s performance grows on you and Riley Keough (Zola), as the voice of the woman who is abducted, is terrific.

In some respects, this feels like two movies, and the filmmakers couldn’t decide which story should be the focus.

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.

The problem with Fingernails is it takes itself too seriously. Co-writer and director Christos Nikou takes a clinical, dramatic approach to such a high-concept, over-the-top and ridiculous premise. He seems so enamored by the concept of the movie that he forgot that the movie was supposed to be about relationships and not the testing.

Like “Nobody” and “Nobody 2”, “Normal” is a satisfyingly amusing, get-in and get-out (all three films are about 90 minutes) piece of violent mayhem.

Chef Flynn seems more suited for an hour-long show on the Food Network. Its 82-minute running time, although short for a feature film, seems too bloated for this story.

A Haunting in Venice is no downer. The script by Michael Green (“Logan,” “Blade Runner 2049”), who also wrote the first two Branagh Poirots, is at times ingenious, and he wrote a great part for Fey. As the mystery novelist Ariadne, a stand-in for Christie, she brings nice comic touches to a performance that threatens to steal the movie.

François Ozon’s Peter von Kant, about a film director toxically obsessed with a young actor, is much more than a remake. It’s a valentine.

Poysti’s subtle, layered performance conveys Tove’s complex dilemma with sweetness and pain. This is a portrait not of a lady on fire, but of a woman struggling to strike the match.

Co-directed by Emily Kassie, “Sugarcane” – which won a directing prize at the Sundance Film Festival in January and won the Golden Gate documentary award at the San Francisco International Film Festival in April – contains stunning natural beauty and painful revelations.

The problems with Thanksgiving are many, starting with the awful script by Jeff Rendell. Not only is the story — concocted by Roth and Rendell — predictable, but there is not one clever line of dialogue in the whole 107-minute film. The cast and characters are bland.

Still, “Lee,” based on Antony Penrose’s biography of his mother, “The Lives of Lee Miller,” is an interesting look at an artist whose true importance, unfortunately, became apparent only many years after her death.

Bannon is an intriguing figure, a former liberal who went to Harvard Business School and did a hitch in the Navy. His turn in philosophy is worth exploring. He can undeniably hold attention — American Dharma is not a hard watch.

It lacks the more sublimely simple fun of another recent three-decades-plus comedy-horror sequel, “Hocus Pocus 2.” It’s just so much busier. But Burton does recapture a bit of his youthful verve. So do Keaton and Ryder, both experiencing recent career renaissances.

That Summer leaves me with Beale fatigue. It would seem to appeal to “Grey Gardens” completists only.

Certainly it isn't about to give "Das Boot" a run for its money - but nevertheless it is irresistible entertainment.

The already confusing story loses all hope of clarity as day turns to night — the second half of the movie is in near-darkness, making even the stylish visuals hard to decipher. What little interest you have in the characters is effectively extinguished as well.

Blows an opportunity to be as great as its subject.

It’s colorful and imaginative, but other than Lu, the characters don’t have much depth. Emotional, that is, not oceanographic.

Ellis’ story could have used a little fleshing out, no pun intended. Instead, a terrific cast is left floundering in the dark, searching for the film’s human dimension. Cursed, indeed.

Using movie clips, animation and news footage, Ascher creates his own alternate universe in A Glitch in the Matrix and explores phenomena such as the Mandela Effect, a real-life wonder in which masses of unconnected people claim to “remember” something that is simply not true.

The only inspired part of “Abigail” is the performance of Weir, a 14-year-old Irish actress best known as the title character in Netflix’s “Matilda the Musical.” She brings verve and joy to her vampire ballerina, dancing circles around the rest of the cast.

All this could work, but Perkins never finds the proper tone in what is almost a spoof of the horror genre.

Unfortunately, despite its ready-made storyline and some likable performances, the curiously inert A Million Miles Away never achieves liftoff, even as its hero does.

Fortunately, director Thor Freudenthal (“Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters”) eventually finds some truth, thanks to an exceptional cast headlined by two rising dynamic young actors, Charlie Plummer and Taylor Russell.

The new version excels because it makes its teenage protagonist deeper and more mature — and its monsters extra frightening.

It’s impressive how many hot button issues Ansari, making his directorial debut, packs into 98 minutes, especially while keeping the laughs coming.

Aniara has an intriguing premise, and it’s even fascinating at times, but despite an excellent production design, it never gets off the ground even as it speeds through the cosmos. The characters are not fully formed, so we’re not invested in their futures.

Wright is perfect, and Edee is an interesting character for her to play, but it’s fair to say that when Bichir first appears he livens up the film considerably. They work well together, and there is an economy of words between the characters that tests both actors’ ability to communicate visually.

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.

Cameron is such a good filmmaker that even though he seems to be out of ideas, the three-hour, 17-minute running time chugs along efficiently on pure craftsmanship. But is that enough?

The watchable LX 2048 certainly gets an “A” for effort, including a creative take on Hamlet’s famous soliloquy. I’m not sure how good a movie it is, but it would be an excellent basis for a streaming series, in which its ambitious ideas would have time to develop.

The genius of “Skincare” is how it uses Los Angeles and its image- and celebrity-driven culture as a metaphor for empty lives.

The emphasis is on comedic interaction, not plot - too bad, "48 HRS" had both - but the pair adds spice to the predictable opposites-detract gags.

Dreamy and elegantly filmed.

The Peasants is filled with sniping, fistfights, brutal violence and sexual assaults and becomes unbearable through its nearly two-hour running time. Most of these characters you wouldn’t want to spend more than five minutes with, if that.

It’s a chilling expansion of the franchise, with visually inventive dream sequences and Ethan Hawke returning as the villain.

Kaizo Hayashi's homage to noir B movies, both Japanese and American, is successful as a true labor of love.

A grand, old-fashioned movie of spies and Communist repression.

The film finally gets into gear around the midpoint and zooms to a satisfying finish.

The Thursday Murder Club is solid entertainment, as sweet and sugary as one of Joyce’s irresistible cakes.

Reitman handles the ensemble cast with Robert Altman-esque assurance. “Saturday Night” is bursting with talent and ideas, is sometimes funny, sometimes groan-worthy, sometimes full of it — and even, at times, inspired. In other words, much like a typical episode of “Saturday Night Live.”

Directed by veteran British television director Tom George, “See How They Run” won’t impress demanding viewers, but acts as an a rather agreeable placeholder until the next “Knives Out” movie arrives.

Polly Findlay’s adaptation of Bernard MacLaverty’s 2017 novel is a serious attempt to delve into a complex marriage, and fortunately for such heavy material it contains two winning performances from Manville (so delightful in “Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris”) and Hinds (“Is This Thing On?”).

A spectacular failure, despite further evidence of the director's keen eye and bold cinematic ideas.

Even though the movie’s engine sputters at the end, it’s beautifully shot, the actors are fun to watch, and the story is decent in fits and starts.

There’s more to life than just stories and really, Djinn and Alithea just need to get a life.

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

The Fencer, directed by Klaus Haro, is basically a “Hoosiers” remake — a true story set in a 1950s small town, in which a coach with a mysterious past arrives to shape a rag-tag bunch of kids into tournament contenders (there’s even a halfhearted romance that seems thrown in at the last minute in both films) — but that’s OK. It’s a winner here, too.

This is one of those projects in which everyone on set seemed to have fun making a movie. That joy comes through, even if the finished film induces a good-natured shrug.

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.

What happens to the twins won’t be revealed here (those with overriding curiosity can find the Wikipedia page about them), but Smoczynska, Wright and Lawrance find the humanity and empathy in their story, if not the complex psychological reasons behind their unique lives.

A soul-killing sequel that gets its kicks torturing and murdering children and offers little hope or redemption. King has long wanted to commit “Redrum” on the reputation of Kubrick’s film, which he openly despises. Nearly 40 years later, this adaptation of King’s 2013 book “Doctor Sleep” doesn’t so much tarnish Kubrick as embarrass itself.

Directed with restraint by Craig William Macneill, Lizzie never quite gets to what made Lizzie Borden tick, but it’s possible no film ever could. But it remains an entirely watchable drama thanks in no small part to the charisma of its two lead women.

What makes the movie smart is its refusal to cast Troy, a difficult role well-played by Epino, as strictly a villain. Instead, Mendoza delves into the cycle of violence that can be passed down through generations.

It’s Zendaya’s movie. Her layered performance holds back then lets go as Emma’s full complexity is gradually revealed. If you can’t get onboard with Emma, then you’re the problem — which partly is Borgli’s intention.

Degenerates in the second half.

The most lethal weapon is de Armas herself. She twirls through “Ballerina” with a bone-crunching tenacity. Her and the stunt team more than earned their pay with every kick, chop, punch and glass-smashing body hurl.

The film is undeniably energetic, with a lot of good lines written by Shores, but it descends into obvious preachiness, and from this view, the unrelenting wackiness becomes overwhelming. Still, good times are had by all.

By taking the “dark” out of the dark comedy, “The Roses” can’t decide what it wants to be, and becomes as flimsy as its setting: Mendocino is played by a seaside town in Devon, United Kingdom, and it looks more like New England than Northern California.

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

A film so rich and pleasurable you’d be forgiven if you thought about it each time you have a glass of red.

There are painful moments in “Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore,” and there are triumphs. But mostly, it is a film of grace and acceptance — a necessary portrait of a groundbreaking artist.

A cute and scruffy movie. Helena Bonham Carter, lending a female presence to the otherwise all-male story, charmingly narrates as Robert’s sister, who pieces together the Stubby legend from letters sent home.

But Eastwood is undercut by the unbearably weak screenplay by Nick Schenk, who adapts a 1975 novel by N. Richard Nash. Schenk has turned in good work for Eastwood before, including “Gran Torino” and “The Mule,” but here his strategy seems to be having his characters explain everything that they’re doing and feeling, much of which should be delivered visually. Action is character, after all.

About as warm, pleasing and inviting as a film about divorce, infidelity and terminal cancer can be.

Moana 2 is finally here, ready to assault audiences this holiday season with one of the most ill-conceived sequels in Disney history. It took three directors to sink this movie — Dana Ledoux Miller, Jason Hand and David Derrick Jr. — and it’s so bad it feels like they did it on purpose.

What could have been an insightful, irresistible movie is instead a simple, self-contained fable, pleasing to look at but meaningless

The Hummingbird Project — is at once an offbeat comedy and a satisfyingly weird thriller.

The One and Only Ivan has within it a much more interesting film waiting to break out that really could have been for the whole family, but alas it is trapped within the cement walls of Disney’s cookie-cutter formula.

Classic in feel and loaded with sumptuous performances.

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

It’s a deliriously demented LGBTQ+ riff on “The Parent Trap” about accepting love in all forms, repairing broken families and finding your true self, but it accomplishes all of that in the raunchiest way possible.

Like the best noirs, The Wedding Guest is an efficient crime thriller that clocks in at around 90 minutes. It’s a B movie with style — the stuff that dreams are made of.

Like sitting on the beach under a cozy, warm afternoon sun. The view is beautiful, but not much is happening and soon you drift peacefully to sleep.

What makes Chemical Hearts so good is it’s unafraid of its feelings. It tackles complicated emotional issues such as depression, suicide, sex and love with a straightforward honesty. For once, a film about young people is completely free of snark and irony.

Lorne makes it clear that nearly everyone in the entertainment industry who is known for creating laughs owes a debt of gratitude to the master.

Marc Turtletaub’s gentle, winning comedy Jules is technically a science-fiction film, but it is actually about loneliness and aging, much like the classic ’80s audience-pleaser “Cocoon,” which this film often resembles.

The story is well-told, but what makes it interesting is that each character confronts his or her own crisis — even Tommie, the paramedic who rescued him. It also drives home the point that a seemingly small tragic event can affect an entire community.

When you walk out of the theater feeling more empathy for the tortured monster than his Bride, the experiment has failed.

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.

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.

Showalter’s The Eyes of Tammy Faye, which credits the documentary as its inspiration, recreates some of the doc’s scenes almost verbatim. But while imitation might be the sincerest form of flattery, Abe Sylvia’s ambitious but shallow script has something spiritually missing — namely, a point to it all.

A good, strong movie, but never threatens to be great. One salivates at the adventurous directions the film could have explored.

Ultimately, Hocus Pocus 2 operates as a cheerful throwback to the 1980s/early ’90s genre of plucky kids saving small-town America from existential danger, a vibe tapped into by not just the original “Hocus Pocus” but such classics as “Gremlins,” “Back to the Future” and “The Goonies.”

What's Christmas Day without a good serial killer movie?

So there’s a lot going on here, and director Joel Crawford and his teams efficiently keep the story moving along. There’s a wonderful “Flintstones” versus “Jetsons” vibe, the characters are, as usual, appealing.

It’s nothing groundbreaking, just good-humored bloody action directed at a frenetic pace, clocking in at about an hour and a half. Sometimes you need a little bit of fun, and Boss Level delivers.

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.

But then, just when it appears the race is lost, Steve James' love for his character and art form kicks in and wins the day, and, though flawed, Prefontaine is an engrossing portrait of a complex figure.

So politics and social commentary aside, we are left with a crime film. One that isn’t very suspenseful or particularly clever.

Most of Arkansas — Duke’s home state, by the way — just falls flat, despite individual scenes here and there that work.

Nikolaus Leytner’s competent, watchable but uninspired adaptation of the best-selling novel by Robert Seethaler does have a few attractions, chiefly a heartwarming farewell performance as Freud, the famed psychoanalyst, by the great Bruno Ganz, who died last year not long after filming.

What a cast! What a waste!

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.

The problem with “The Tiger’s Apprentice” is it sacrifices character and story for the repetitive mind-numbing action we have come to expect from such fantasy and superhero films.

Adapted from Justin Torres’ debut novel from 2011, Zagar’s bravura direction, with a visual style by cinematographer Zak Mulligan, is lyrical and poetic in an approach that would suggest Terence Malick, complete with wistful narration by the film’s young protagonist.

One reason why “The Conjuring: Last Rites” is so uninteresting is it takes one hour, 21 minutes for the Warrens to agree to enter the haunted house that we all know they’re going to enter from minute one.

One wonders how a master of truly twisted movies — say, a David Lynch or a Brian De Palma — would have approached “The Voyeurs.” One suspects they would have a bit more fun and taken us further down the moral rabbit hole. And the sex would have been better too.

Still, I Am Woman, while it doesn’t roar, effectively tells Reddy’s story and speaks strongly about the women’s movement and the struggle that continues.

For a documentary about one of the most prestigious opera institutions in the world, The Paris Opera has, maddeningly, very little opera.

The film, “based on the incredible true story” that happened in 2014, is an efficient, fun but by-the-numbers movie that has the distinction of being shot on location in the Dominican Republic, which looks quite lovely onscreen.

A mostly absorbing but strangely inert espionage drama that could have been a heart-pounding thriller.

While False Positive has lapses in logic and could have a quicker pace in the second half, it fully embraces a bizarre sense of the macabre that is irresistible.

Feels like a regifting of previous action adventure favorites, lifting elements from the “Mission: Impossible” series, “Skyfall” and, most of all, “The Incredibles.” It’s fast-moving, entertaining, kinda clever and instantly forgettable.

There are so many rich, colorful scenes that it’s a worthy watch just as an ethnographic record of our planet in a moment of time.

Competent, to be sure, with some good lines.

Sure, Black and Blue is a minor film, but it’s irresistible.

Directed by Everardo Gout, The Forever Purge is non-stop action, which is fine because the script by series creator James DeMonaco, who directed the first three films, never plumbs the depths of its clever concept. The intense, appealing performances by the lead actors get us through.

Landscape With Invisible Hand is a bizarre, off-kilter experience that shows us how we are destroying ourselves, no aliens necessary.

It’s a slickly made piece of entertainment that’s a good time out at the movies.

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

It’s an action and suspense film, and, like Butler’s earlier 2023 flick “Plane,” a good one. Impressive set pieces include a car chase through a small-town bazaar, and a midnight shootout between Tom, outfitted with night-vision goggles, and a helicopter.

G20 is standard-issue improbable action that’s lifted by EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony) award winner Davis, who makes everything better, and the Mexican-born Riggen’s direction.

Although the script takes some unfortunate shortcuts, “Eleanor the Great” is a moving study of grief, loneliness and aging. But each of the main characters has something missing in their lives, a hole to fill inside of them, and Johansson gives her actors the space to explore.

Taccone can’t find the right mix of comedy and horror in “Over Your Dead Body,” which is a faithful — perhaps too faithful — remake of a 2021 Norwegian film, “The Trip.”

But for now, we have The Last Voyage of the Demeter, which actually was a pretty good idea that just didn’t have enough wind in its sails.

Girls of the Sun has an air of authenticity and grit that’s convincing, and Farahani, an Iranian-born actress, makes us care.

It’s a film that feels instantly antiquated, despite its attempts to capture Gen Z angst.

Austin is funny, extremely funny, because he is so ridiculous, and because Myers is a brilliant mimic who, like Martin Short, knows how to do ridiculous.

The fighting in the “Karate Kid” movies and its Netflix series offshoot, “Cobra Kai,” has always been quality, but in “Legends” it’s too quick-cutting and chaotic, hard to follow and over much too quickly.

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 final word about Bardem: He’s simply terrific. With his shaggy curly hair, exaggerated showmanship, athletic dance moves and operatic gestures, Hector is part Willy Wonka and part Gene Kelly — it’s Bardem’s most off-the-rails performance since his turn as a James Bond villain in “Skyfall.”

The Ballad of Wallis Island isn’t a great film, and it is exceedingly predictable. But like its musician heroes, it plays its notes well, and in a movie landscape often pockmarked with violence and cynicism, it’s a welcome escape.

Adams, a six-time Oscar nominee, is likely headed to a seventh for an admittedly showy but nuanced turn that manages to bring Bev’s humanity bubbling to the surface even as her ugly side dominates — as Thoreau might say, a life of not-so-quiet desperation. Close is terrific as usual.

Efficiently directed by Marc Webb (the Andrew Garfield “Spider-Man” movies) with an excellent production design by Kave Quinn, “Snow White” is everything you need it to be and nothing more.

It is, in fact, good: a simple, well told story, about an impossible love decades ago, and the collateral damage that results.

Raymond & Ray aims for the kind of gentle, offbeat wistfulness of a “Little Miss Sunshine” or “Sunshine Cleaning,” but with uncomfortable awkwardness instead of eccentric ingenuity.

Think of all the ways “Apartment 7A” could have slyly addressed these times, or, conversely, more fully explored the practices of the Castavets’ cult. Instead, it's just a retread, and that’s why it’s bad. The devil is in the details.

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.

The Front Room becomes an exercise in psychological torture porn; it’s a movie you endure rather than enjoy.

Nattiv, working from a sharp script from Nicholas Martin, expertly mixes in documentary footage to convey a sense of the times and the war.

Shows how Tinseltown sensibilities can be well thought out even on a low budget.

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.

Superpower, one of several documentaries about the war in Ukraine, doesn’t break any news, but Penn, a two-time Oscar-winning actor and director of several feature films, is a skilled storyteller. He and Kaufman do an excellent job of providing a contextual overview of the conflict, from its origins — the trajectory of both Russia and Ukraine in the post-Soviet era — to its political stakes, the mood of the Ukrainian people and the fascinating man who is leading them.

It succeeds because of the frenzied, kinetic direction by Mike Newell, one of the most interesting big-hit directors.

The only thing that keeps Wish afloat is DeBose’s voice, who elevates so-so songs such as “At All Costs” and “This Wish” with a powerful lilt.

Spoof both of P.I.s and independent filmmakers is languidly paced and not very funny.

Even worse, Deerlaken, Wis., is supposed to be the “real” America, but Stewart has little interest in depicting an honest version of Midwesterners, or their problems. No actual issues that affect the town are discussed. (I have no idea what the economy of the town is, if people are struggling or what.)

The Nun II has some interesting ideas and some thrilling sequences.

Halfway through, the humans recede into the background, with Dr. Andrews and crew reduced to narrating monster shenanigans instead of participating in the action. Unlike “Godzilla Minus One,” humans are expendable in gargantuan Hollywood creature features.

Yes, there are funny lines, but nearly all of them are familiar to fans; it’s almost like a greatest hits of “Addams Family” quotables.

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

Salinger, who died in 2010 at age 91, probably would have hated this movie. If Jones doesn’t quite pull it off, it is at least a film of many pleasures and a thought-provoking look at American literature’s most famous loner.

How can you screw up a movie that has Lady Gaga? Here’s how: Make it claustrophobic, with the first half a brutal prison picture and the second half an excruciatingly dull courtroom drama.

Wonder Park, frankly, isn’t very much fun. It becomes so enslaved with its nonsensical plot that it forgets this is supposed to be about coming to terms with the possible loss of a loved one. It gets lost in its own Rube Goldberg machine.

It seems Joris-Peyrafitte can’t decide what film he is making, and as a result we’re left with a jumbled mess with a slapped-together resolution that will satisfy no one.

The dialogue is hip, natural and observational.

It’s a train wreck, but certainly a watchable one that almost plays like fan fiction.

A play-it-safe film, with its chaos a little too controlled. But Bell’s examination of the institution of marriage has it insights, and there are laughs.

The Art of Racing in the Rain, a sure-handed but predictable adaptation of Garth Stein’s best-selling 2008 novel, is a sloppy wet-kiss of a movie that demands nothing more from its viewer than to engage and empathize. Awww!

Scooby-Doo, where are you? The real one, I mean. The rest of this mess is just a series of nonsensical action sequences.

Seinfeld’s over-the-top, throw-in-everything-but-the-kitchen-sink approach makes for an uneven film, with some gags inspired, others groan-inducing. But its 1960s period detail and constant parade of familiar faces keeps things rolling.

Look, I Know What You Did Last Summer is fun, recapturing a ’90s slasher film vibe. It’s no “Bring Her Back,” the Aussie horror chiller released around Memorial Day, but it’s not meant to be...But kids, if you ever run into trouble on the Fourth of July, just call 911 and file a police report. You’ll be OK.

Captain America: Brave New World doesn’t have such lofty ambitions — its makers probably just thought it was a cool title — but it is surprisingly engaging, primarily because of the people in ‘t.

It's also troublesome that Murphy, a generally charismatic actor, is downright dull here. He and Goldblum are curiously flat in their line readings; they don't seem convinced by the story they're asked to act out, and with good reason.

In tackling 1000 A.D., (McTiernan)'s suddenly an unwieldy, clunky filmmaker.

Sometimes the movie is a little too slick. Some of the characters, such as Sean’s girlfriend (Jacqueline Byers) and the FBI agents who begin to believe Sean’s story, are underdeveloped. But Tennant, excellent as a creep, and Sheehan, who is appealing in his helplessness, provide the necessary depth.

Cave, who gained notice with much-lauded Hulu feminist horror film “Fresh” (2022), is too busy condescending to her characters to be invested in what happens to them.

The last half-hour of “Opus” is an unbearable slog, with an unsatisfying ending.

It could be considered an achievement that a full-length feature movie with a talented ensemble cast, led by Kristen Bell and Allison Janney, couldn’t create a single character that you would want to spend more than five minutes with, but there it is. Not even picturesque London can save this witless comedy.

It's a movie drenched in narcissism and wish-fulfillment, almost a textbook on how to make a formulaic, romantic film.

Describing this makes it sound like there’s more plot than there actually is, but “The Carpenter’s Son” isn’t a conventional story. It’s more of a mood piece, with a true run time of just barely 90 minutes. But it’s got Cage, and that’s the difference maker.

What we get are quirky characters who are such cartoons that they undermine the effectiveness of the scare scenes (Brad Dourif's turn as the weird doctor is an example) and well-composed camera angles that mean nothing.

Welcome to Marwen does not work as a drama of addiction, and frankly it doesn’t work as a celebration of Hogancamp’s creations, which work best as stunning still-photo images.

There is not one line of dialogue or one sight gag in About My Father that can’t be found in other bad comedies, and Maniscalco . . . and director Laura Terruso seem to believe the path to humor is to go as far over the top as possible.

UglyDolls is a mind-numbing, low-rent version of “Toy Story,” with saccharine songs and a plot with echoes of, no kidding, the Holocaust. If you’re under 10, you might like it.

Just an odd mess of a movie. That you feel anything at all is a tribute to the acting talent of Dinklage and Goggins, who occasionally make us care.

Snoop has obviously made a real-life impact in his community. Too bad he couldn’t make one in reel life as well.

Like the King of Pop himself, “Michael” is unashamedly a crowd-pleaser.

Like Disney’s tepid 2019 live-action remake of “The Lion King,” it’s virtually a beat-by-beat remake of the original, but without the original’s energy and movement.

Perhaps a bit miscast, and with a penchant for too many double-takes, Perry nonetheless is game.

The “Paranormal Activity” films, to their credit, build slowly, backloading the chills in the second half. That means, to get through that first hour, the characters have to be interesting, but these self-absorbed Gen Z wannabe filmmakers are anything but.

If only director Luis Llosa and his cast could see the joke and seize upon it; instead, like its computer-morphed snake, the film doesn't have a clever bone in its body.

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

So while director Evgeny Afineevsky practically makes the case for Francis’ sainthood — immersing the viewer in a nonstop barrage of swelling violins and inspirational music, featuring interview after interview of people who have been touched personally by the pope — his bloated two-hour film leaves many unanswered questions.

The Out-Laws is dead on arrival.

A downright dumb movie that, with its breathless pace, lack of character development and uninventive gags, might be torture for even the kids to sit through.

The original Space Jam was an out-of-nowhere delight, and Jordan gave space to his fellow live action co-stars, such as Bill Murray, Larry Bird and Wayne Knight. It was also in and out in 87 minutes; Space Jam: A New Legacy, directed by a good filmmaker, Malcolm D. Lee (Girls Trip, The Best Man), is a bloated 115 minutes, its mayhem and madness wearing pretty thin as it goes along.

As corny and illogical as Poms is, it does have heart and a positive message about aging that is lifted (barely) above the level of cliche by the great cast, especially Keaton and Weaver, who provide a level of complexity that the script can’t.

It's downright boring.

The writer-director has come up with a sumptuous, happy piece of fluff.

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.

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's simply terrible.

Not much of a plot, but the trouble is that Shana Larsen's script, as directed by Risa Bramon Garcia, isn't very deep. Worse, none of the self-absorbed characters are that likable nor are they funny.

So Orwell it’s not. But “Mercy” is a cinematic feat of a different kind, even if it begins to fade soon after leaving the theater.

Love Hurts is that rare action movie almost devoid of noticeable computer effects. It’s a hand-to-hand, bone-crunching martial arts movie with tongue firmly in cheek, resembling those Jackie Chan action comedies from the 1980s and ’90s.

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.

This is the kind of made-for-cable-level movie where a pedestrian script (by Richard D’Ovidio) with the usual horror cliches is elevated by strong acting, no-nonsense direction and a couple of neat twists.

A movie that features rich Mexican American characters and an uncompromising story line is always timely.

A movie that seems to have been made by people who don’t understand the history, true nature or appeal of their iconic characters.

Hurry Up Tomorrow, is a risk-taking experience, a David “Lynchian” fever dream of a movie that’s as visually marvelous as it is head-scratching. It’s a “Purple Rain” for the “Euphoria” generation, and you can’t take your eyes off it.

Dead Man on Campus, a supposed black comedy produced by MTV, is simply awful.

The fact is that too much time is spent with the British characters in the film, time that could have been spent really getting into Rani’s story. She was fighting for the independence of India, but the filmmakers lost their own colonial battle.

It’s essentially an animated film, fronted by a live-action Downey and Michael Sheen’s one-note villain. Only Antonio Banderas, in a small role, truly seems to be having a great time.

A terribly bad movie, one of the worst of its kind in recent years.

SORRY, SALLY. I didn't like it. I really didn't like it.

Anyone wondering what 1960s TV show Ironside would have been like if Raymond Burr had been a dirty cop gets their answer courtesy of Morgan Freeman in the dreadful new thriller Vanquish.

The best that can be said about this film is that it's watchable, and that's not the way it could or should be.

This utterly tasteless crime film about Tokyo’s top madam, a drug dealer and a serial killer is one of the worst films of the year.

What starts out as a bottom-feeder noir a la “Breaking Bad” or “Hell or High Water” transitions into scattershot ambitions of being a mythic tragedy.

How much of it is true? Well, all of it. It happened, at least in the inner life of an imaginative boy, whose boundless curiosity served as the launching pad for a unique and productive life.

The best parts of Ai WeiWei: Yours Truly include the scenes at Ai’s studio in Beijing, as he conceives the project and we get a glimpse into how the sausage is made; and the titular focus on political prisoners.

The film doesn’t deny that justice must be served, and those who commit crimes must pay. Its question is: How it is paid fairly to the satisfaction of victims and their families and to the benefit of society? The answers are down the road, many miles ahead.

Even without containing a modern frame of film, “Apollo 13: Survival” seems current, even without the coincidence of Americans stranded in space.