G. Allen Johnson

Deneuve has fun with her best role in years.

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 movie is predictable at times, but also winning, with a thumping soundtrack and smartly written characters. Ortega, with his Peter-from-“Office Space”-deer-in-the-headlights look, is the movie’s appealing center.

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.

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.)

Athlete A gives us the story behind the story. It’s a terrific journalism movie, but it’s also a story of young women who persevered and found justice against the odds.

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

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.

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.

It is quite simply one of the great “making of” documentaries of all-time — a short list that includes the George Hickenlooper-Eleanor Coppola documentary “Hearts of Darkness.”

For the most part, The Painter and the Thief seems authentic, a very real portrait of two unique individuals. It not only explores the artistic impulse, but also issues of relationships, addiction and rehab. It also provides an interesting glimpse into the Norwegian prison system, which is geared toward rehabilitation rather than punishment.

Lucky Grandma isn’t a feel-good comedy at all, but has a parched-dry dark comic approach, keeping Grandma Wong at an emotional remove.

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

After watching Spaceship Earth, which was completed before the coronavirus pandemic, one can’t help but think about the current experiment conducted by Biosphere 1. As smog clears across urban landscapes due to stay-at-home orders, the vision — and the warnings — laid out by Biosphere 2 remain relevant.

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

On its own, Driveways would be a sweet, understated masterpiece, simply told, of human connection. But with the death of longtime distinguished stage and movie actor Brian Dennehy on April 15, director Andrew Ahn allows us to say a proper goodbye to the big fella, who gets the final six minutes of the movie all to himself.

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.

In watching The American Nurse, I saw myself not so much in the nurses but in their patients. It occurs to me the nurses are always there, from our birth to death and in between. That in the current pandemic they would need to beg for personal protective equipment is on us as a society. They are our better angels.

Overall, Dolphin Reef is spectacular. The filmmaking team does an excellent job of detailing the delicate ecosystem that supports these creatures. Although Echo and his fellow dolphins are the stars, there is a vast supporting cast of humpback whales, sharks, razorfish, sea turtles, mantis shrimp, parrotfish.

Bolt tries mightily to make this weighty subject digestible to the average civilian, with some fancy, intricate animated sequences to show us how CRISPR and DNA manipulation work, and while I can’t say I came away from this film being able to coherently explain it, Human Nature works as a glimpse into possible futures and a moral dilemma that doesn’t have easy answers.

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?

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.

A quite interesting and irresistible movie, a sort of cross between Paul Schrader’s recent film of spiritual crisis, “First Reformed,” and Steven Spielberg’s “Catch Me If You Can.” An impostor as anguished priest.

Even if the film seems slow at times, there’s always something to look at, including Miroshnichenko and Perelygina, who are able to find grace and dignity in two such odd, hollowed out characters. Maybe, just maybe, these two veterans working in a hospital can heal each other.

This is a funny and moving crowd-pleaser — a South by Southwest and Sundance selection, it won the audience award at the Napa Valley Film Festival and was an opening night film at S.F. IndieFest — and it goes down easy.

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

Chinese Portrait is a great art installation, but a thoroughly unsatisfying film.

That’s a strength in this documentary. It becomes clear that it’ll take a strongman to bring down a strongman, at least in this case.

Color Out of Space is a trashy, ridiculous science fiction/horror film. It is silly, poorly written and, well, I liked it.

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.

The best part of the film is early on, when Innis Dagg’s story is enlivened by beautiful color 16mm footage she took in the 1950s and ’60s.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The brilliance of Dark Waters is that it is able to lay out the case against DuPont without getting too wonky.

Waves is a movie that tears itself apart halfway through with an unspeakable act of violence, then miraculously heals itself. Whatever your reaction to this ambitious, boldly original and hard-hitting family drama, you could never accuse writer-director Trey Edward Shults of holding anything back. He leaves it all on the floor, as they say in basketball.

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.

Ultimately, Marriage Story celebrates life and the journeys all of us are on. Noah Baumbach is the writer-director, and to watch such an incisive, deep-feeling script be given life by actors — Adam Driver, Scarlett Johansson and those around them — at the top of their game is to rediscover movies as a powerful medium of personal expression.

Eventually, the imperfect Honey Boy — it could have used more from the older Otis; Hedges is almost wasted — achieves a raw, hard-won honesty.

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.

It’s like a Syrian “MASH,” except real.

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.

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

Parasite, Bong Joon-ho’s latest masterpiece and the best film I’ve seen so far this year, is about two families of four at opposite ends of the economic spectrum, and how the one on the lower end systematically takes over the lives of the other.

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.

Midnight Traveler gets the bulk of its humanity from little Zahra and Nargis. The resilience of children is often amazing, and near the end of the film, when they play in the snow for the first time, you get a glimpse of hope for their futures.

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.

It’s a probing, searching movie by one of the medium’s best American directors whose reach, like his protagonist’s, exceeds his grasp.

The movie is nonetheless strongly written, with a game cast. Wu is especially a revelation, with a layered and often moving performance that shows off dramatic chops not seen by many of her fans.

Call it Buñuel meets Blumhouse, a film that is flawed but so full of ideas that it doesn’t matter.

What makes it brilliant is that it demonstrates how universal this distinctly Jewish musical has become, how it has been embraced by many cultures and how it is still influential today.

Calaizzo’s script is sharp, funny and honest, and nicely avoids movie cliches about obesity. Bell’s performance is very good, both physically — the actress herself lost 40 pounds for the role — and emotionally.

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.

Late in the extraordinary new Netflix documentary American Factory, Cao DeWang, the Chinese CEO of the Fuyao Group, wonders aloud, “I don’t know if I’m a contributor or a sinner.”

So just showing a glacier breaking off, or a hurricane in full force, doesn’t prove there is climate change. Perhaps if Kossakovsky had provided some context — something to indicate this is happening more frequently, for example — Aquarela might have had more impact. Then it would have been more than just a series of pretty pictures.

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.

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?

Price has given us Yelchin’s most complete performance: himself. It is a cinematic gift to contemporary film fans everywhere.

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

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!

What a talent Waad is. For Sama is a film made with the instincts of a journalist, the passion of a revolutionary and the beating heart of a mother.

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.

Leonard & Marianne suggests that these were two immensely intelligent and talented people who never found happiness. The total love each person sought over the decades may have been right there all along. Or at least, it was there, in decades past, on Hydra.

Shot almost entirely within a hotel, the film operates as a low-budget answer to “Roma,” Alfonso Cuarón’s much-lauded film that also centers on the life of a domestic worker.

Diamantino is one of those movies that looks super fun to make but is mind-numbing to actually watch.

Asako’s only appeal seems to be that she’s very pretty. Her depth of character she apparently keeps to herself.

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

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.

What we have here is a small, delicate mini-masterpiece, and bright new talent behind the camera.

The most passionate love affair in The Souvenir is with film. Hogg utilizes an almost cinema verite style, with a visual look of the grainy kind of 16mm film an ’80s film school student would work with. Her style is reminiscent of early Olivier Assayas or Éric Rohmer’s “The Green Ray” (1986), an acknowledged influence.

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.

Climate change is never explicitly mentioned in the documentary The Biggest Little Farm, one of the year’s best films, but it hangs all over the deep, rich story of the Chesters, a pair of hardscrabble idealists who move from the concrete jungle of Santa Monica to start a 200-acre, sustainable farm from scratch.

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.

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.

Visually, Bi is already a master. There are amazing shots that recall Tarkovsky (especially “Stalker,” an acknowledged influence), or early Wong Kar-Wai.

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.

The joy of discovery is at the heart of Penguin Highway, a delightful new anime that is about the mysteries of life, both scientific and personal. Oh, and it’s about penguins, too.

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

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.

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!”

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.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.

An invigorating and inspiring viewing experience. The mission was indeed a giant leap for mankind, and now we have a documentary worthy of its subject.

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.”

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.

Bathtubs Over Broadway rediscovers the forgotten world of industrial musicals through rare recordings and film clips, and it is as smoothly entertaining as showbiz set piece, and at times flat-out funny.

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.

Bergman fans will love this film, but the great thing about Searching for Ingmar Bergman is that budding cineastes who are curious about his work will find much value in it as well.

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.

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.

Obviously, sports fans will get the most out of In Search of Greatness. But there are self-help tropes for everyone.

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.

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.

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.

An invaluable piece of sports history, with 16mm images by de Kermadec that are succulently detailed.

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.

Happiness might remain elusive in Nico’s last years, but after years of loneliness and fading fame, at least she can catch a glimpse from time to time.

There is much to think about in Far From the Tree, a worthy and at times tender film.

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.

Not only a portrait of a great artist, but a sensitive and engrossing depiction of the act of creation and its process.

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.

In watching Ava, a visually inviting and sharp portrait of teenage life in Iran, one must admire how writer-director Sadaf Foroughi was able to play her own tune in life.

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

Word of warning: Don’t go to the theater with a full stomach. Some of the images of animal abuse are graphic and hard to watch, although this is rather tame compared with other documentaries on the same subject.

Escape means a roller-coaster finish, and with this delightful sequence achieved without the aid of computer effects, this “Ant-Man” entry stakes its own corner of the Marvel Universe sandbox as a throwback to ’80s-style childlike adventure.

McKay doesn’t take sides in the immigration debate, although he is clearly sympathetic of these hard-working young men who experience great indignities to work jobs most of us would not want. His approach is more cinema verite than high-stakes drama. It is almost a gentle, sweet film.

The film is an excellent reminder of how important soccer is globally. It’s more than a sport.

Lek gives Love & Bananas humanity, but Bell’s personality and enthusiasm is contagious, inviting us into the film. We root right along with her.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

It is such a soul-killing exercise in narcissism — and not a very smart thriller, either — that yeah, you can buy into the notion that Tinseltown is a total drag.

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

Still, I’m not sure Kiarostami really intended this film to be a movie. It seems more like an art installation. Of note is the terrific sound design; the sound is credited to Ensieh Maleki, who captures full, rich, peaceful sounds of nature.

Leaning Into the Wind asks us to appreciate art for art’s sake, and that’s not a tough ask at all.

A bleak, at times fascinating but strangely inert Chinese animated film.

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.

A moving, quite amazing documentary.

On the Beach at Night Alone is really Kim’s film. Her performance won her the best actress award at this year’s Berlin Film Festival, and she is in every scene, warts and all.

At 2 hours, 21 minutes, feels like a slow death by a thousand cuts.

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

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

In the face of this relentless nihilism, it’s quite an achievement that the new documentary Wasted! The Story of Food Waste is so darned entertaining and hopeful, as well as informative.

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.

Like many first-person medical documentaries — such as the recent “Gleason” — Unrest can be really hard to watch. Brea’s film, though, might be the beginning of hope for millions of sufferers who might see the film, and could be a conversation starter for additional funding into research.

It’s a quiet film that almost slips by without notice.

When explored by writer-director Mike White’s expert, soulful script, Brad, against all odds, becomes a sympathetic figure, and the film itself achieves a sort of poetry.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

Hamm perfectly plays Walter as a sort of suave, GQ version of HAL 9000, and Davis and Robbins have their most satisfying feature film roles in years. Along with the pitch-perfect Smith, they provide the humanity to Almereyda’s vision of a species in danger of slipping into the void of selective memory and loss.

Nicolas Cage gives one of the best performances of his strange, courageous career.

Dreamy and elegantly filmed.

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

Leigh has a gift for demonstrating character from the outside in.

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

Powered by the great Soviet director Mikhail Kalatozov ("The Cranes Are Flying") and the unmatched handheld black-and-white cinematography of Sergei Urusevsky, it is one of the most visually hypnotic films ever -- and that's not hyperbole.

There isn't a whole lot of fancy subplotting, just a potpourri of funny and engaging characters.

Now "Rod Tidwell," with Jerry Maguire as a supporting character, would be a movie to pay to see.

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.

Excited with the possibilities of the relatively young film medium, Russia's Dziga Vertov took to the streets of Moscow, Odessa and Kiev to give us a portrait of an ever-changing world that is more essay than documentary. It's a 1929 silent film that added its punctuation in the lab - jump cuts, dissolves, split screens, etc. - to create an indelible work in cinema history. [13 Apr 2017, p.E8]

Classic in feel and loaded with sumptuous performances.

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

It is an important work, and a very good one.

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

A work at once detached and thrillingly intense, an experience where intellectualizing turns to a raw emotion so overwhelming, unexpected in its power, that you sit in your seat as the end credits roll, unable to move.

Playtime is sharp and colorful, and visually makes quite an impression.

A warm-hearted valentine to old traditions in China that are being obliterated by modern - and admittedly more efficient - technology.

A demanding, rewarding (if overlong) and - yes - a personally felt experience.

Kurosawa pulled out all the stops with Ran, his obsession with loyalty and his love of expressionistic film techniques allowed to roam freely.

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

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.

You would think Towne would identify closely with a big young talent who flames out too early. But when Pre turns to Mary and says, "I can endure more pain than anyone I ever met," it seems forced, empty. Towne just doesn't capture his subject.

Cause for celebration. It's not only a cracking good film, but it is the first by Taiwanese master Hou Hsiao-hsien to gain a national (though limited) release.

It's simply terrible.

No amount of excellent period costuming and brilliant set decoration can substitute for a good story and decent acting.

An idiosyncratic, oddball movie that is funny and moody.

De Sica has to be considered one of the great directors of children, and the film, which won the first Academy Award for best foreign film and has been championed by Orson Welles and Martin Scorsese, is as valuable for its location shooting as its storytelling. [03 Jul 2011, p.P22]

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

Misses some creative opportunities to really drive this story home, but it's a naturally haunting story nonetheless.

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

It's a more intelligent and dimensional epic than, say, "Anna and the King." Emperor is worth every single penny.

Kiarostami's genius is elusive. His films may be unknowable, but they are undeniably hypnotic, charismatic.

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.

The weird thing about the films David Mamet has directed is that they have about as much emotion as a cyborg in a science fiction movie, yet by the end of the picture it isn't necessary; by then the audience has supplied their own.

The effect is riveting and frightening. You feel you are under siege with the combatants.

Quickly degenerates into a grueling piece of unpleasantness.

POSITIVE vibes aside, Down in the Delta is fairly simple stuff, with acting that at times sinks to the dialogue-of-agreement level of those after-school specials a network used to run a while back. But it will go down in history as the first film to be directed by Maya Angelou, and it isn't a bad one at that.

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

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.

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

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

To watch Ozu's films is to watch elegant simplicity, although they are meticulously complex. It's even a relaxing experience - you can almost feel your heart rate lowering - yet there is much human drama on the screen, and much wisdom.

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.

A guilty pleasure and one of the best films of the year.

An independent film so enamored of itself it refuses to have any fun.

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

There's not a whole lot to Waking Ned Devine, but it may be enough for those who like their quirky comedies from the British Isles - a burgeoning genre now - both atmospheric and gentle.

Cholodenko's strategy of having the actors, in every scene -- whether it involves Lucy, the boyfriend or the Frame editors -- perform with an intonational flatness approaching monotone pretentiously undermines the effectiveness of her subject matter.

Troubling and troubled.

The real reasons to see it are Barrymore, Barrymore and Crawford, the beating hearts of the picture. [21 Jun 2018, p.E5]

The movie is meant to be uplifting and to the degree that you can ignore its unquestioning treatment of mental illness, I suppose it is.

It is possibly Kurosawa's most underrated masterpiece, rich in characterization and structure, yet lost in the shuffle among such classics as "Rashomon" and "Seven Samurai." [14 Sep 2008, p.N31]

The intention is there, but the needed emotional maturity isn't.

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.

Directed with a touch both delicate and muscular by the great Delmer Daves, it's truly a Western for those who don't like Westerns, and will be treasured by those that do. [02 Jun 2013, p.Q21]

A crowd pleaser that caters to our horror of totalitarianism, our love of personal freedom, our belief - justified or deluded - that knowledge is a powerful tool and that access to information is a God-given right.

An entirely unconventional, hypnotic, meandering film.

The only film sequels in history that just keep getting better.

Minghella is an artist and he has painted himself a masterpiece.

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

One of the best films of the year.

In a way, The Eel is very much like Black Rain, and nearly as great. Both deal with an emotionally shattering aftermath, and both question mankind's ability to overcome its many weaknesses.

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

A movie that has an odd plot, quirky characters and a real edge, but it's not in-your-face, a re-invention of a genre or a smirky independent. It's different because it's flat-out great.

Ruiz has made the most ambitious adaptation of a Proust work yet.

Competent, to be sure, with some good lines.

A movie to savor.

The dialogue is hip, natural and observational.

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

What a cast! What a waste!

The level of sexual tension and general creepiness as Chahine's character becomes unhinged is more intense than one would expect from a movie made in the 1950s under a totalitarian regime. [04 May 2017, p.E7]

Fallen Angels is proof that Wong will try anything, and the result is an eclectic mix of images and disjointed editing, sounds and rhythms that are at times as powerful as any piece of filmmaking likely to be seen all year. It can also, every once in awhile, be tedious and trying.

It's downright boring.

Happy Together is Wong's most fully realized work. It is a pleasure to watch an interesting mind feel his way, and the result is something more than just a passing fancy.

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

A weird, wonderful and funny work that stands as a true original. As if that weren't enough, director and co-writer Anderson has given Bill Murray his best role in years.

"The Big Sleep" and "The Maltese Falcon" echo loudly throughout.

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.

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.

A penetrating study of the subjectivity of truth and perception, changed cinema forever and inspired the phrase "the Rashomon effect."

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).

Few thrillers create as much sheer joy and happiness as Charade, in which Cary Grant spoofs his Alfred Hitchcock persona, Audrey Hepburn exudes her usual magnetic charm, and Paris is as scenic as ever. [18 Jan 2018, p.E4]

Salles' solid narrative is only deceptively simple; there is a lot of dimension and depth to this gentle, sometimes painful portrait of two wanderers.

Solondz's greatest success is the pederast, heartbreakingly played by Baker...Had Solondz reached that apex in the other stories, it would have been a masterpiece.

A wise and wonderful parable.

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

I'm not sure all of this works out as convincingly as Anderson intends in the movie's somewhat unsatisfying ending, but getting there is a wickedly enjoyable journey.

A sweaty-browed exercise in precision filmmaking, but one that doesn't cheat you with wisps of tension and the pretense of attitude.

An engaging, well-written film that is surprisingly gentle in tone and easily paced.

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 Coens haven't been this sharp, focused and fluid since their first film. This is "Blood Simple's" promise fulfilled.

Degenerates in the second half.

It is filled with lavish battle scenes and sharply scripted intrigue, and is among Kurosawa's greatest triumphs. [17 Apr 2005]

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.

Overall a well-played chess match of a movie.

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

The drawbacks to Little Voice might sink a lesser movie, but not this one.

This overall good feeling helps smooth over the sometimes shocking lapses in logic.

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

Charmingly quirky.

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

This movie has everything but Humphrey Bogart, and I'm sure he's sorry he was unavailable.

May be the funniest movie about parental and spousal abuse ever made.

The success of Felicia's Journey lies in the work of the steady and here understated Hoskins, who gives one of his best performances, and young Cassidy, who displays a weary maturity even through her deer-in-the-headlights character.

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