Gary Goldstein

It’s a masterful effort.

What director-editor Robyn Symon's entertaining documentary lacks in polish it makes up for with its uniquely charismatic lead subject and her stranger-than-fiction tale.

Director Alison Eastwood ("Rails & Ties"), despite an evident affinity for the material, takes an overly stagy approach to the scenes, when a more lyrical, atmospheric style was in order.

Writer-director Douglas Mueller's tedious drama Repatriation seems unsure of what it wants to say or how to say it — much less how to effectively shoot or edit it.

Laura E. Davis and Jessica Kaye, who co-wrote and directed, compress a lifetime’s worth of familial puzzle pieces into a few choppy days of angst and dubious behavior that never quite gels, despite being occasionally intriguing.

Despite frequent self-seriousness, a melodramatic third act and a seeming fixation with Islamic State, this unevenly acted, Alabama-shot film is not without its stabs at humor.

There’s also such a profound sense of support among the participants, albeit of the tough-love variety, that the movie offers a strange kind of hope.

An enigmatic, if perhaps hopeful, epilogue caps this sad, strange, at times weirdly poignant portrait.

Save a bit of narrative padding (karaoke, anyone?), this is a mostly swift and lively ride as the tables turn — and turn again — in some absurdly clever ways.

Tom of Finland entertainingly recounts an intriguing and vital chapter of 20th-century gay history with style and deference.

Input from a broader range of chefs and food experts, as well as sociologists and scientists, could have better fleshed out this brief study.

Take My Nose … Please! is a lively and enjoyable documentary about comedians, plastic surgery, female self-image, aging in Hollywood, and other facets of facial politics.

The film rarely soars with the kind of authentic spirit and passion needed to fully sell this decidedly old-fashioned material.

From the mundane to the eventful, the movie takes a fairly unflinching, yet respectful view of Dina and Scott’s world.

This gripping exposé of the dark side of the commercial dog sledding industry, particularly as it pertains to Alaska’s annual Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, is a horrifying heartbreaker.

There may be an intriguing, perhaps even profound story behind Smith’s growth as a singular artist and woman, but director Elvira Lind keeps too much on the surface, making it hard to invest in Smith’s often esoteric, self-centered journey

George combines a wide array of strong, if at times grisly, archival footage and photos with remarkable interviews with two centenarian survivors of the killings, plus moving commentary from many Armenians whose relatives perished in that first massacre and/or more recent conflicts across Azerbaijan.

The strong cast, including John Heard, Dash Mihok, Jacinda Barrett and Cloris Leachman, sells the warm, at times cloying material with earnest conviction.

The romantic adventure Tam Cam: The Untold Story begins like “Cinderella,” finishes à la “Beauty and the Beast” and in between runs the gamut of action-fantasy tropes with entertaining, if at times overly broad and narratively choppy, results.

Despite its need for serious narrative compression, this remains an emotionally authentic, often poignant look at growing up and growing aware.

Director Debra Eisenstadt, who also edited and co-wrote with Zeke Farrow, effectively draws us into Ken’s challenging world and conflicted psyche, aided immeasurably by actor-comic Dawes’ dimensional, empathetic performance.

First-time feature writer-director Morgan Dameron attempts to craft a love letter to her native heartland and to sisterhood, but falls short on both fronts, rarely digging beneath the surface of small-town bonhomie and what makes Millie and Emma tick.

Theater lovers and Italophiles alike should savor the documentary Spettacolo.

A bit of tightening, largely involving segues abroad to Australia, Japan and Kenya, would have helped the picture’s pacing. But it’s the pride and strength of Boston’s leaders and citizens, as well as the marathon’s devoted contenders and planners that ultimately fuel this affecting portrait.

Kagan employs a purposeful, if at times distracting, use of split screen, along with subjective camera and mind’s-eye visuals to capture the story’s visceral and emotional tension. But it’s the fine acting and the film’s plea for sensible gun control that carry the day.

Dufils vividly captures the locale’s seedy, swampy vibe, with its dive bars, shabby homes, ubiquitous convenience stores and underground fight spots. If only there were a more compelling, engaging narrative to match.

Unfortunately, this overlong picture rarely feels particularly authentic.

There’s barely a convincing — or amusing — situation or interaction, including the film’s climactic nuptials, which also turn fatally contrived.

Cinematically and emotionally it’s a mixed bag, a slow-moving visual treatise and occasional vanity piece that requires — but doesn’t always earn — our indulgence.

Those with the fortitude to relive the events of the morning of 9/11 should find the documentary Man in Red Bandana a powerful and inspiring experience.

The journey of J.D. Salinger from young wiseacre to world-celebrated author and notorious recluse is absorbingly traced in Danny Strong’s Rebel in the Rye.

Despite a soulful turn by Dinklage and some thoughtful themes and emotions, the film, capped by an anti-climactic ending, never coheres into the gripping, mind-bending package that was clearly intended.

As broad as the side of a barn but much more amusing.

Although much of what happens in Get Big feels borrowed from most every teen comedy from “Risky Business” to “Superbad,” this micro-budget effort from 23-year-old newbie writer-director Dylan Moran (who also stars), whips up plenty of humor and charm as well as several organic, well-served life lessons.

This elegant, lushly mounted film, which involves classism, communal fighting, political machinations, and religious and cultural discord, still proves timely given such world events as the Syrian refugee crisis, the Brexit controversy and Pakistan’s ongoing anti-terror campaign.

Doug Nichol’s documentary California Typewriter is a rich, thoughtful, meticulously crafted tapestry about the evolution of the beloved writing machine for purists, history buffs, collectors and others fighting to preserve or re-embrace analog life.

Director Klaus Härö, working from a script by Anna Heinämaa, deftly captures the grayish gloom and day-to-day paranoia of postwar Soviet life, while infusing this absorbing tale with affecting emotion.

Although Planetarium may not wholly satisfy as the kind of statement film it so ambitiously aims to be, this intriguing drama, confidently directed by Rebecca Zlotowski (who co-wrote with Robin Campillo) proves a singular, at times haunting experience.

The dearth of input from medical practitioners and others who have opposed Sarno’s controversial methodology makes this feel like an awfully one-sided exploration.

It’s best not to attempt to fathom too much of what goes on in this colorful fantasy-adventure and simply take in its lushly shot and designed visuals, eye-popping effects, lively action and often lovely score.

Although “Dark” eschews overly graphic depiction of the more horrific physiological aspects of MND and barely touches upon the financial toll the illness clearly takes, this is as real a human story as it gets.

The result is a chronically “meh” coming-of-age meets dysfunctional-family tale, with a particularly unsatisfying ending.

Alternately crass and treacly, overbearing and under-finessed, the film, penned by headhunter-turned-screenwriter Bill Dubuque and directed by Mark Williams, is on life support from get-go.

Shedding light on world atrocities is vital, but spelling them out in neon is deadly.

The historical saga can feel cursory, at times unconvincingly rendered given how many events and far-flung locales this overly ambitious film strains to cover on a seemingly limited budget.

The results, although emotional, intriguing and a bit surprising, lack the journalistic urgency, heft and deeper danger often connected to these sorts of cinematic unravelings.

Misfortune recycles such familiar genre tropes as ill-gotten gains, double-crosses, ruthless gunplay and last-chance locales, but serves them up in a taut, twisty and involving way.

Battle Scars is an uneasy mix of military drama and low-rent crime thriller whose seamy elements, under-examined characters and forced plot turns undercut its attempted messaging about war-induced post-traumatic stress disorder.

Writer-director Daniel Y-Li Grove impresses with his sleek, inventive style and effective pacing but falls short on depth and substance.

Tunick’s clearly budget-conscious choice to shoot largely inside the couple’s nicely appointed home compounds this routinely shot and edited film’s stagy, static quality.

Unfortunately, with its on-the-nose dialogue, abrupt turns and overuse of fades and dissolves, the film can feel more like a checklist of scenes than a fully plumbed and cohesive work.

The movie itself plays more like a corporate recruitment video — or an extended episode of “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” — than a deep, discerning dive into an American success story.

The time-travel stoner comedy Ripped blows a potentially funny idea on slapdash filmmaking and lazy storytelling. If much of this overly broad eye-roller wasn’t made up on the fly, it sure looks that way.

Anyone looking for a definitive survey may want more, but this enjoyable film will undoubtedly score with musicians and cinephiles alike.

More specific sense of time and route (a map, anyone?) and a bit of even basic scientific scrutiny would have improved this otherwise compelling and provocative journey.

It’s a gutsy, often off-putting piece whose eccentric little New York story and experimental vibe might have been better served by a short film.

Striking images of sex and violence combine with an often effective sense of dread as these grim story lines unfold. But without sufficient context and psychological underpinning, less proves decidedly less.

Jalali peppers this darkly funny, often absurdist piece with enough socio-political messaging to add heft but not didacticism. It all makes for a singular, well-observed balancing act.

Although I Love You Both never quite pays off on its provocative set-up, it proves to be a funny and endearingly quirky comedy about siblings, love and loyalty.

Although the film can feel a bit been-there-seen-that, this earnest, well-drawn tale ultimately proves distinct and winning enough to warrant a look.

It’s about as plausible as your average stage — or movie — musical, but Opening Night proves a funny and sexy, if decidedly slight, backstage comedy.

[A] playful, intriguing documentary.

Cox masterfully captures Churchill’s contradictory nature, obsessive dutifulness to queen and country, and a volatility born out of fear, desperation and impending loss.

At its heart, the film is a kind of mystical fairy tale whose messages of belief, endurance, family and belonging transcend its memorably specific people and setting.

An intriguing audio-visual sense, deft editing and Shawkat’s committed performance elevate this strangely watchable film.

A handsomely mounted if largely melodramatic affair that gains steam as it gives way to truer emotions and bits of veiled humor.

Director Paolo Virzì, who co-wrote with Francesca Archibugi, keeps the jam-packed film moving apace with a whirlwind of high-wire emotionality, memorable set pieces and vivid location work.

Flights of fancy are peppered in throughout but can’t make up for this concoction’s missing ingredient: romantic chemistry.

When this well-acted picture calms down and focuses on real emotions, it proves a poignant, absorbing look at a modern family.

Mell never quite knows how to mine this conceit to best effect. The result: a tonal mishmash involving silly demon-trapping bits, supernatural speculation and lots of yakking that derails the film’s potential tension and credibility.

The film’s narrative engine remains too choppy and clunky, and the characters too cursorily developed, to hold attention.

For anyone unfamiliar with physics or averse to a while-you-watch cram course, this film might prove a mind-numbing slog.

Lucid interviews with human-rights activists, attorneys, anthropologists, authors and others help frame this multi-faceted portrait.

Lynch devotees should dig this respectful, offbeat portrait.

The film is often a marvel of visual and narrative resourcefulness. But with its single primary location, blistering atmosphere, small cast and narrow focus, “Mine” may prove too grueling for some.

Although the story, which feels a tad past its expiration date, never digs too deeply into its central issues (hypocrisy, loneliness, censorship, finding one’s voice), Dan Harris’ peppy direction and nimble turns by the film’s young leads prevail.

Bwoy (Jamaican patois for boy), which largely plays like a stage-appropriate two-hander, is ultimately a surprising and cathartic, if often unsettling, film anchored by Rapp’s superb portrayal of a tortured soul desperate to connect. Brooks’ deftly enticing turn is also a standout.

If the pacing flags a bit en route, enough vivid imagery remains to hold interest, with Solomonov proving a smart, appealing and personally invested guide.

The largely Russian- and Kazakh-speaking cast is so incongruously dubbed into English it evokes an old Japanese monster movie.

The story might have had some thematic heft if we knew or cared anything about the characters. But all we can glean about the disastrous Kostis is that he’s had hard times, while Anna is a total cipher.

It all adds up to a timely, provocative and absorbing tale of money, power and a search for the truth.

This well-intentioned, sumptuously shot tale of love and war, directed by Joseph Ruben, lacks the emotional depth and romantic grandeur to fulfill its epic ambitions.

Love & Taxes is an amusing, endearing trifle.

Anyone with even a shred social conscience should find the comprehensive Syrian civil war documentary “Cries From Syria” a truly devastating experience.

It’s a testament to Jack Bryant’s lovely script and Kerstin Karlhuber’s thoughtful direction that this controversial concept is handled with such even-handedness and grace.

The main achievement of The Institute is that its cast kept straight faces long enough to shoot this risible gothic chiller. A

The oddly sympathetic, low-key and funny Phillips gets deft support from his limber costars, including Sarah Silverman, Jim Jeffries, Mike Judge and Mark Cohen. Amusing songs too.

Though it’s often too quirky for its own good and its bumpy narrative structure can be jarring, the film sneaks in quite a bit of depth and emotional punch.

For much of its fast-paced running time, the film, which involves an after-school fight between two polar-opposite teachers, is just amusing enough to make up for its sheer preposterousness.

Just when you think the film has gratefully escaped its most inevitable turn, it goes there, adding one final kernel of corn to this ho-hum horse tale.

Growing Up Smith is a well-intentioned fizzle that misses what should have been an easily reachable mark.

Tighter pacing, more dimensional and compelling characters, and twistier consequences could have helped better propel this dark, semi-intriguing tale.

It’s a terrific film that deserves far more attention than its low-profile release is likely to receive.

Murphy’s quietly precise performance ultimately can’t overcome the film’s chilly gravity and unsatisfying finale.

It’s an often tender, affecting film that slowly creeps up on you — then completely takes hold.

The visuals and concepts presented here may be compelling and vital, but director Luc Jacquet (“March of the Penguins”) weaves them together with too little urgency, propulsion and, ultimately, unique sense of purpose.

The film captures the dazzling beauty of its ocean locales, both above and beneath the surface, while soberly reminding us of the crucial ecological issues — and solutions — at hand.