Gary Goldstein

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

Coalesces into a thoughtful, pointed, at times deceptively profound look at how the rich get richer and, well, you know what happens to the poor.

A depressingly slick and empty house of cards that collapses under the weight of its muddled intentions.

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.

The story, although intelligent, is not quite unique or essential enough to merit the film’s protracted running time.

That's not to say Heleno, with its magnetic energy, sensual re-creation of 1940s and '50s Brazil and bold storytelling lacks punch; the movie is nothing if not watchable. But, by presenting more surface than depth to De Freitas' womanizing, arrogance and volatility (an implied closeness to his unseen mother is about as far as the film digs), it largely feels like an arm's length effort.

It’s a bit of a structural and thematic hodgepodge, and a few key moments feel cursorily handled, but Evan’s Crime remains an effectively scrappy and involving us-against-them drama.

Russell, he of the shaggy mane and those twinkly, crinkly eyes, digs into the classic role with a sleighful of energy, humor and gusto, deftly making the character his own with guidance from Matt Lieberman’s inventive, myth-bending script. His performance is a gas.

There are several uniquely impressive elements to the adventure drama Mia and the White Lion, but they’re undermined by a choppy, at times contrived and implausible script by Prune de Maistre (wife of director Gilles de Maistre) and William Davies.

A Fierce Green Fire: The Battle for a Living Planet, adapted from the book by Philip Shabecoff, proves a worthy reminder of how much has been done to help heal our planet's ecological woes as well as how much remains to be achieved.

Despite the visual and cultural accuracy, Ping Pong Summer is missing an elemental magic and vibrancy; a kick factor that makes the picture's endless pop throwbacks (break dancing, cassette tapes, giant boom boxes) seem more tackily forgettable than sweetly nostalgic.

Despite a few chuckles, some capable voice work and plenty of splashy color, it proves a largely empty and exhausting ride.

[An] enjoyable documentary.

There are no great emotional revelations about the fearless, free-spirited athletes profiled in the film, but these tanned-and-toned folks' deep love of surfing and mostly cheerful demeanors prove enjoyably infectious.

The film is an architecture lover's dream.

Well-meaning and, in the end, sweetly redemptive, Sassy Pants would have worn better with more depth, energy and, yes, sass.

It's a privilege getting to know these determined, inspiring seniors, to whatever extent Gaynes allows. But a more deeply revealing, fully candid approach would have made for a more satisfying cinematic excursion.

[A] moving and insightful piece.

For a movie seemingly concerned with clarity and enlightenment, it’s woefully lacking in both.

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.

As a perilous dog-and-mouse game ensues, Solet packs his script with tension, dimension and several vivid flashbacks recalling the characters’ seminal encounters with dogs. Cool camerawork too.

Thee inside-Hollywood dramedy Trust Me contains so much terrific writing, acting and observation that it becomes a bit easier to forgive writer-director-star Clark Gregg when his ambitions best him during the movie's convoluted last third.

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

Absorbing, well-structured and superbly acted.

The movie contains enough warmth, humor and nostalgia to prove an affable if unremarkable snapshot.

The story...never comes together as a satisfying whole, even if it all proves relatively painless viewing.

It’s a profound, affecting and beautifully told chronicle of faith, family, obsession and the language of music.

"Jane's" affecting emotional core and cathartic conclusion carry the day.

The movie is also notable for featuring not just one but two unconvincing romantic dynamics.

A stylish, serviceable recounting of Saint Laurent's life from the late 1950s through the '70s. But watchable as it may be, this drama lacks intimacy and urgency.

There's something healing about simply watching Free the Mind, Danish filmmaker Phie Ambo's gentle, compassionate documentary.

It's far from perfect, but The Rewrite is the kind of witty, enjoyable star vehicle in sadly short supply on screens these days.

The movie's raison d'etre, its many highflying, wildly violent, often digitally enhanced kung fu fighting sequences, are edited with so much sleight of hand they may evoke more eye rolls than gasps. But the hard-working sound design, effectively stark visual palette and propulsive score do manage to impress.

Schmaltzy, overlong and a bit tedious.

Roth wisely manages to avoid excess mawkishness and keeps the action moving apace.

writer-director Andreas M. Dalsgaard takes such a low-key approach to presenting the film's vital, potentially involving topic that viewers may find themselves more inspired to take a snooze than a stroll.

The uninvitingly titled Chlorine is a flat, undercooked suburban comedy. Or is it a drama? Or maybe a kind of satire? Regardless, it's short on style, substance or any clear raison d'être.

A Good Person isn’t an easy ride but, like such disparate, if similarly themed, movies as “Rabbit Hole,” “Waves” and “Four Good Days,” it’s a haunting slice of real life that will make you think, feel and maybe even want to reach out to your loved ones.

The jaunty, neo-noirish crime outing Lying and Stealing has its moments — chiefly the engaging performances of sexy leads Theo James and Emily Ratajkowski — but is too short on depth and logic to prove much more than a glossy, forgettable trifle.

Unfortunately, the film, costarring Erik LaRay Harvey, Robert Ri’chard and Ian McShane, turns overly violent, raw and showy, undermining the glorious music (written, arranged and performed by Wynton Marsalis), superb period re-creation and Carr’s powerful lead turn.

Though it's no surprise that Rowlands shines on both the comedic and dramatic fronts, the versatile Jackson is often equally impressive.

This strained, often crass comedy traffics in broadness and inconsistency far more than anything smart, clever or dimensional. That might be more forgivable if the film was at least funny. It's not.

This "Theorem" is all sizzle, zero steak.

Although amusing and filled with many well-timed comic bits, especially by the deft Moretti, the movie loses some of its farcical steam en route and suffers from a diffused point of view.

My Policeman is an absorbing, resonant, deeply wistful adaptation of the 2012 novel by Bethan Roberts that will probably be best appreciated — stylistically, thematically, romantically — if judged more within the context of its mainly mid-20th century setting than by contemporary expectations.

Haddock proves the beating heart of the piece, infusing her role with a quiet strength, determination and equitability; neither plucky enabler nor long-suffering victim but something believably fresher and more heroic. Maybe she should have been the film’s true focus.

Joanna’s journey of creative and emotional enlightenment — including the balancing act of trying to write when consumed by a day job — is managed with grace, tenderness and touching credibility by a wonderfully winning Qualley in concert with Philippe Falardeau’s smart, engaging direction and screenplay.

For all the talent up on the screen — and one can't fault the performances — the movie just doesn't deliver.

What the film lacks in biographical depth, it makes up for with stirring visuals (including effective bits of split screen, time-lapse photography and animation), a vibrant score and an infectious, in-the-moment spirit.

Despite the familiar setup, this is no "Same Time, Next Year," what with its hot-sheets trysts, full-frontal flashes and frank language. But the brief - sometimes very brief - encounters glimpsed here between the film's leads and sole characters (billed only as "Man" and "Woman") are inventive and telling.

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

Director Jack Plotnick and his co-screenwriters Sam Pancake, Jennifer Elise Cox, Kali Rocha and Michael Stoyanov fail to nail a satisfying theme, narrative or purpose.

It’s a vibrant, amusing comedy whose story, from returning writer-director Garth Jennings, may be a bit overstuffed for its intended audience. Though that’s not likely to hurt this peppy, often visually dazzling followup.

At a mere 75 minutes, this often amusing, uniformly well-acted movie had the leeway to more fully explore both the script's showbiz gambit and its romantic roundelay.

Despite its brief running time, the film feels padded by sightseeing footage and a warm but diversionary visit between Ahmed and his Cairo-area relatives. Still, Just Like Us proves an amusing, uniquely unifying effort.

The plodding Out of Blue isn’t out of ideas — just out of gas.

Gorgeous, evocative and well performed.

The film has several smart twists and surprises up its well-tailored sleeve.

Despite much archival and news footage, along with ample face time from that initiative's most ebullient supporter, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, the contest lacks the kind of inherent drama and tension that could have helped quicken the movie's measured pulse.

If forewarned is forearmed, Seifert's movie might one day prove quite prescient.

It's unfortunate that Brown and company were unable to bring stronger narrative and filmmaking skills to this vital subject.

As horror movies go, this one's not especially tense or scary. Instead, it's eerie, provocative and at times ridiculously violent. The ending feels like a cop-out after so much creative mayhem.

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

Aside from a few missing transitional beats and one too many coincidental encounters, the picture's fluid, zigzagging sexuality and emotional high-diving prove largely credible and diverting.

These profiles are frank, absorbing and heartbreaking, if also a bit inconclusive.

Given the subjectively interpretive nature of scripture and ancient religious history, which informs most of the Christian-centric debate here, the result is an often dense, contradictory discourse.

Compelling as Zylka and Keough may be — and we're definitely rooting for their well-etched characters — Bedford too often plies a kind of woeful wooziness here when a more propulsive approach is in order.

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

Director Peeter Rebane and his co-writer (and star), Tom Prior (they also produced), have created a compelling, tender, tragic, occasionally melodramatic look at forbidden love and desire.

Although first-time feature writer-director Julius Avery may aspire to become a sort of Aussie Michael Mann — and perhaps lays an apt foundation here to do so — he has a ways to go in developing the kind of characters and world we can solidly invest in.

Director Anthony DiBlasi, working off an efficient script by Bruce Wood and Scott Poiley, skillfully tightens the screws on a story that leads to much collateral damage and an effective final showdown.

The startling spike in anti-Semitism over the last two decades is certainly a vast and vital topic for documentary exploration, but director Laura Fairrie’s Spiral proves a largely underwhelming look at an overwhelming problem.

It’s a potentially intriguing bit of fiction that plays out in, at best, serviceable ways.

It's a terrific little film worthy of discovery.

Holmes’ helming is unremarkable — unlike her and Owens’ acting, which is excellent.

Writer-director Steven Silver (with an able assist from cinematographer Miroslaw Baszak) captures this brutal time - which led to the country's first free, multiracial elections in 1994 and the end of apartheid - in vivid, often bold, but never overpowering strokes.

Joyride is a jalopy of a film. This Irish-set story of a brand-new single mother and a precocious 13-year-old boy who end up on the road together is so scattershot and far-fetched it overwhelms its better intentions — of which there are many.

It’s a mostly fun, logic-be-damned ride if you just stay in the moment and don’t think too deeply as the going gets tough — which is soon enough.

Dubious ending aside, Constanzo's approach to structuring, shooting and pacing the tricky material proves masterful and memorable.

If only this post-heist section had more tension, suspense and surprise, “King” could have been a real contender.

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 for the title, it's a nod to the jazz music that Don's off-the-grid dad shares with his more buttoned-up son. But, like most everything else here, it feels more contrived than authentic.

Ironically, the only thing that makes much sense about the DIY effort Oconomowoc is its baffling title.

A grating and witless would-be spoof of religion, male-bonding and, it seems, horror movies.

Ultimately, it’s the social, sexual, political and artistic power of the same-sex dance phenomenon that gives the topic its unique heft and vitality.

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

The accompanying trove of archival footage and photos, however, helps break the occasional monotony; the juxtaposition of these elderly vets with snapshots of their 1940s-era, uniformed selves is always affecting.

If Becoming Nobody may dig only as deeply as the filmmaker and/or Alpert chose to go, it remains an inspiring, stirringly meditative portrait of one man’s profound spiritual influence on a world that has surely needed him.

It also features deaths by strangulation and immolation as well as a nasty bit with a flying severed limb.Kids may be less put off by all that, though, than by the film's uninspired hand-drawn animation, visual flatness and elongated running time.

The film's overall presentation...feels a bit too cloistered and the subject perhaps too limited for feature-length attention.

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.

As any dog lover will tell you, our four-legged friends make everything better. That’s especially true when it comes to the genial if overly familiar ensemble comedy “Dog Days,” whose four-legged stars bring out the best in the movie’s crisscross of humans — and in the film itself.

For poker fans only.

Bram, who also narrates (and writes, with co-director Judah Lazarus and Adam Zucker), may be earnest in his desire for enlightenment. But his approach feels overly self-serving; too much "Me," not enough "Kabbalah."

The mythically powerful demigod is back on the big screen in the simply titled Hercules and the results are canny, fast-paced, and, for what the film attempts to accomplish, enjoyable.

If this swift, entertaining film, set during the post-9/11 run-up to the Iraq war, brashly leans left, it has history on its side as well as, it seems, the interests of our soldiers.

Characters and situations are painted in such simple, broad strokes, we’re asked to take much at face value.

The film over-relies on blunt messaging, one-note villains (bullies, bosses, administrators, worst mall cop ever) and several stacked-deck situations to align us with David and Po, even if we’re inherently on their side from the start.

Proves a fast-paced and enjoyable if violent diversion that revels in its quirky characters, committed performances and involving twists.

Alternately silly and provocative, strained and funny.

The Calling is an absorbing, solidly crafted procedural thriller with a terrific lead turn by Susan Sarandon.

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.

(A) stirring, if inconclusive documentary.

As things turn irrevocably supernatural, the movie's anything-goes quality ends up deepening instead of torpedoing the narrative, as can sometimes happen in horror flicks.

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.

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

Unfortunately, writer-director Yan England never focuses on any one lesson long enough to make a complete or satisfying statement. The result: a potentially meaningful movie that hands us a double dose of despair when a ray of hope was needed.

The Kirkes are attractive and intriguing actresses, Mendelsohn again proves one of the best screen actors around and Dornan looks great in scrubs. But it’s hard be sure exactly what Forrest is trying to say here and the film isn’t compelling or appealing enough to sufficiently care.

Writer-director siblings Jen and Sylvia Soska allow their film to turn slack and unfocused after an enticingly lurid, wickedly tense first half.

The result, directed by Mark Dennis and Ben Foster (not the actor) from Dennis’ script, is a handful of intriguing ideas in search of a more cohesive and dimensional narrative.

What could have been a deep and rousing clarion call on the homeless crisis gets supplanted by surface characterizations and situations, us-against-them broadsides and weak story strands.

Even with several contrivances in the movie’s final third, this remains a taut, haunting ride thanks to solid writing and directing by Zack Whedon (Joss and Jed’s younger brother) and a strong, sympathetic performance by Paul. Find this one.

The filmmaker and his on-screen proxies boldly go places our national discourse desperately needs to go, yet rarely does.

This poky, clichéd, slackly told picture, directed by Emilio Aragón, would've felt dated a few decades ago; now it feels like a downright relic.

Too many roles remain underdeveloped — if developed at all. A lack of cohesion or camaraderie among the inmates compounds the film's impersonal vibe.

Like the film itself, Kakkar and Pastides are lively, adorable and thoroughly winning.

The dreary postmortem drama Five Nights in Maine is barely kept afloat by the gravitas of dueling leads David Oyelowo and Dianne Wiest.

Like the prolific Minn’s other disturbing docs, “8 Murders a Day” and “A Nightmare in Las Cruces,” this is a gritty, no frills, at times sensationalistic immersion into grim criminal territory.

As a chance to watch Collette and De Palma at work, soak up some lovely Paris locales and root for a working-class underdog, Madame proves a breezy enough diversion.

There's a heft to the proceedings that keeps us invested even when the story's various strands start to unravel.

It's best not to overthink the sci-fi love story Upside Down and just enjoy its dazzling visuals, dream-like inventiveness and lush romanticism.

It could have been smarter without sacrificing pacing or chills. That’s not a dealbreaker — target audiences will likely be satisfied by its many pluses — but the film is good enough that you wish it went all the way.

The documentary Craigslist Joe fulfills its unique premise - without providing much in the way of stakes, obstacles, tension or, frankly, greater meaning.

Starts off feeling clever and original but turns silly and diffused as its convoluted story spins out.

Unfortunately, by the end, thanks to a misguided use of a few offensive slurs against gays and African Americans, the whole thing turns needlessly ugly, undermining the goodwill Cross had mustered.

Sumptuous visuals, vivid emotional beats and memorable turns by Bichevin and Hoeks effectively compensate for the verbal sparseness.

Sure, there are lapses in logic. But nice messaging, some zippy dance moves and a great use of the classic tune "Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours" end this charming, adult-friendly tale on a high note.

Director Ondi Timoner, who co-wrote with Mikko Alanne (based on a screenplay by Bruce Goodrich), has crafted a stylish, evocative, absorbing snapshot of creative expression, artistic ambition, sexuality and eroticism.

Despite being often preposterous, the cross-cultural comedy Book of Love is an entertaining watch. Just don’t scratch even the slightest bit beneath its glossy, super-contrived surface.

Overall, the approach proves too cluttered and diffused, especially if the goal — as it should be here — is to build real dramatic tension.

Momoa creates an involving if relaxed pace, one whose moody rhythms are infused with a kind of soulful spirituality.

Although it contains its moments of doom and gloom about the potential effects of climate change, the excellent documentary Carbon Nation is an inspiring look at the many recent advances in clean energy and green technologies.

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

The cast, including Jason Biggs as a dorky social studies teacher, does what it can with the toothless, painfully unfunny, thoroughly unconvincing material. How some movies get made is truly a mystery.

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

A one-man band known as Makinov — he wrote, directed, produced, shot, edited and ran sound here — has done a pretty decent job in the chills department using a simple story, small cast and largely contained location.

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.

Director-editor Simon Kaijser takes an often choppy approach to the narrative, the catch-a-mouse symbolism is a bit heavy-handed and the ending could use more oomph.

For all his attention to the exactitude of creating righteous cocktails, Tirola never quite nails a specific structure, focus or theme.

It’s six or so characters in search of a meaningful movie.

Alternately ambitious and simplistic, lively and bland, the French-produced adventure Mia and the Migoo never fully pinpoints its intended audience or many ecological messages.

Overall pacing is flaccid and too many scenes peter out when they should punch. But perhaps the movie’s biggest infraction is that there’s hardly a chuckle in it.

Aided by a nimbly voluble script by Kat Coiro and Ritter, it emerges as an amusing kaleidoscope of contemporary urban angst and romantic aspirations.

The film's main misstep, however, is its unconvincing use of celebrity voices to re-create various speeches and letters... Though well-intended, their inclusion proves a needless distraction in an otherwise smart and dignified presentation.

It's simple stuff, but it works.

Star and first-time director Ewan McGregor, working with screenwriter John Romano, has skillfully reshaped Roth’s tale for more urgent cinematic telling, covering a host of profound themes with disquieting power, reflection and grace.

An amusing soufflé of a comedy that pokes fun at foodies while honoring the art of those who cook for them.

Unfortunately, this overlong picture rarely feels particularly authentic.

Statham's broody charisma and veteran cinematographer Chris Menges' ("The Killing Fields") eclectic views of contemporary London help hold interest, even as we ponder what Knight is really trying to say.

This follow-up to 2016’s “High Strung” has its visual dazzle and performance highs but the story and characters are just too fake, chaste and grit-free to take seriously.

Seasoned pros Allen and LaPaglia are terrific as longtime mates forged together in an unexpected game of cat and mouse.

This sour spin on "My Best Friend's Wedding" (crossed with a pale dose of "The Big Chill") proves unsatisfying not only because of its unlikable characters and often contrived conflicts but for the thoroughly implausible bride and groom at its core.

Whaley nicely calibrates this wistful dramedy's emotional quotient, never allowing sentiment to turn into sap.

Despite a skillful use of color, lighting, framing and music, the movie’s artificiality might have played in a short film but becomes tedious and pretentious when stretched to 90 minutes.

Tolerating Pablo might have better suited this unremarkable picture in which the wealthiest criminal of all time’s reported charisma takes a back seat to his badness.

The Adderall Diaries is a complex, absorbing, at times profound look at how we choose to remember our past. Wh

This brief, loosely-knit film never builds any empathy or tension.

Prolific actor-comedian-musician Tim Heidecker may have a sizable cult following but it’s doubtful he’ll find many new fans with his latest effort, the tedious and laugh-free mockumentary Mister America.

Both well-timed and oddly late-on-arrival, the good-natured documentary Electoral Dysfunction attempts to lay bare the irregularities behind the American voting system but, for some, it may feel too lightweight and coy for genuine effect.

Bits and pieces of the gay-themed drama Beautiful Something feel real and essential. But this slow-going film often suffers from a forced, navel-gazing quality that can prove exasperating.

If often sad and unsettling, the film is also livelier and less oppressive than it may sound thanks to the fine writing, deft direction by Adrian Noble, and the superb, if painful interplay between Redgrave and Spall.

It will be interesting to see what this capable filmmaker does his next time around with, hopefully, a larger budget and a few more objective voices helping to guide his choices.

Margaret Whitton strikes a pleasing balance between amusing and sensitive, largely eluding the potentially precious minefields in their way.

Writer-director John Patrick Shanley’s old-fashioned, at times transporting, romantic comedy Wild Mountain Thyme has a lot going for it, which makes it a shame that it’s not a wholly stronger film. That said, as a stress-free chance to take in the lush, gorgeously green Irish countryside, you could do worse.

The filmmakers’ choice to focus so heavily — and, unfortunately, dully — on the odd-couple friendship between the tightly-wound, workaholic Hughes (Hilary Swank) and the brashly spirited Riese (Helena Bonham Carter) instead of on the bigger-picture legal wranglings and wider effects of the landmark lawsuit against a San Francisco hospital may point to the chapter’s cinematic limitations.

It all makes for a family therapist's dream scenario, but an otherwise choppy and predictable memory piece.

Love does a fine job evoking the social and cultural vibe of the Big Easy and its environs. He also enjoyably uses documentary-style testimonials from Melvin's devoted friends and supporters, inspired editing and a slew of nifty visual effects.

The result is a well-meaning checklist of a film that lacks sufficient charm or off-the-field vigor to fully score its intended goal.

Howden, with an able assist from editors Luke Haigh and Zaz Montana, keeps this anarchic gore fest moving at breakneck speed, but it’s a brash, crass, often mind-numbing ride.

Writer-director P.J. Hogan may have based Mental on an actual incident from his childhood, but the crazy quilt of a movie that resulted feels anything but real.

Good People goes from being simply pedestrian to outright preposterous without batting an eye.

Despite the noble ambitions of writer-director Sally Potter (“Orlando, “The Party”), The Roads Not Taken proves a morose and baffling drama; a painful, snail’s-paced 85 minutes with little payoff.

Courageous, proves a particularly clunky, tunnel-visioned vehicle whose overbearing, overlong script nearly smothers the movie's quibble-free message.

The new installment is, at best, a serviceable creep show, one with far more chills than thrills.

Salomé and co-writer Natalie Carter offer some explanatory psychology, but the complexities remain underdeveloped. Still, you won't be bored.

The one-sided film’s wheels come off when covering Thomas’ fraught 1991 Senate confirmation hearings.

Self-conscious, tonally uncertain and thematically vague, The Big Ask is a premise in search of a movie, one that co-directors Thomas Beatty and Rebecca Fishman never quite find.

The obstacles here soon prove so contrived and the setups so schematic the movie can feel like a not-very-well-oiled, Rube Goldberg-like machine. And a predictable one at that.

The movie's grandiose emotional quotient never feels any more real than its ham-fisted dialogue, dubious accents, strained "Kumbaya" moments or eclectic hairdos.

Weakly developed characters, a lack of substantive tension and an ending that's more startling than sound round out the minuses of this earnestly motivated but undercooked morality tale.

A melodramatic third act strains to reconcile the film's disparate parts, and the feel-good ending is not quite earned. Still, the film offers a few lessons for those inclined to hear them.

The result, while sincere and nicely evoked, feels choppy, familiar and, despite the script's heavily stacked deck — and a few harrowing episodes — lacks sufficient momentum.

Part sword-and-sandal spectacle, part disaster epic, Pompeii accomplishes its ambitious agenda to largely engrossing effect.

Some eerie answers are revealed, and there are a few decent left-field jolts en route. But the plot is hardly airtight — at times the holes are downright gaping — and viewers will likely have their fair share of questions once the film's final corner is turned.

Tutu and Blomfeld's confrontations have vigor and commitment but don't build to the requisite catharsis.

Staten Island Summer is a refreshingly old school coming-of-age comedy with just enough raunchiness, stoner humor and otherwise dubious behavior to divert movie audiences weaned on violated pies and superbad high jinks.

The film often defies expectations but also winds up sidestepping the kind of trapdoors and quicksand that might have made the ride more exhilarating.

As glossy and tony as its rarefied subject matter, Crazy About Tiffany's, although entertaining enough, might be one of the least socially conscious documentaries since writer-director Matthew Miele's last valentine to high-end shopping, 2013's "Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf's."

Convoluted doesn’t begin to describe the sci-fi drama Bliss, which starts off intriguingly enough but loses its way once it attempts to explain itself, before surprising us entirely in the end — and not in a particularly satisfying way. How this loopy film got made may prove its biggest mystery.

Buckle up for the ride that is Deliver Us From Evil, a highly intense and effective mash-up of police procedural and horror show.

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.

The film, though nicely performed, rarely builds into the kind of gripping emotional journey it clearly intended.

Casanova, Last Love, which looks at the famed 18th century philanderer’s infatuation with the supposed “one true love of his life,” is a dull and uninvolving portrait that, despite its sumptuous settings and costumes, never takes flight.

Although the meta-style conceit is fun, it doesn't fully kick in until the film's midpoint. Until then it's a sluggish, fairly dour ride.

Far too broad and simplistic to enjoy as the offbeat soufflé it so desperately aims to be.

Brick Mansions, Paul Walker's penultimate film (prior to "Fast & Furious 7"), is a dumb and ugly action picture that works strictly as a reminder of the late actor's head-turning good looks and modest charisma.

As effective and fat-free as its sinewy star, Luke Evans, Dracula Untold proves an absorbing, swiftly comprehensive origin tale.

Even if this largely contained movie remains more low key than frantic, it features enough well-executed bursts of tension and strong emotional beats to hold interest.

It takes a while to get there, but Inhale eventually emerges as a tense and morally complex thriller with a devastating twist.

Skippable 3-D aside, it's a serviceable, limber follow-up to 2010's "Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief."

It opts for too many broad, clunky or far-fetched beats to move the story and its requisite emotional needs forward, rather than weave a more organic, effectively lived-in and, yes, genuinely funny tale.

Grace Unplugged proves a far more involving, accessible and enjoyable movie than its peek-a-boo marketing strategy suggested.

The script by Richard D'Ovidio is so packed with knuckleheaded moves and ultra-obvious dialogue ("Dad, there's something wrong with this place!") that the whole enterprise proves more risible than frightening.

The film is most acceptable when it sticks to its beauty-and-beast dynamic. Even then it’s too dizzying and grandiose and the chemistry between the lead characters is pretty much nil.

The movie mostly plays so strained and corn pone that it undermines its sincere emotional core and good intentions.

Rothe and Shum Jr. have such nice, authentic chemistry that they should put it to good use again. Perhaps there’s a jaunty rom-com out there with their names on it.

The Dixie-set, coming-of-age tale Krystal, directed by William H. Macy and written by Will Aldis, is too forced, chaotic and randomly eccentric to make for a fully engaging and cohesive emotional experience.

Depressing and airless.

It's hardly essential viewing, but No Escape is a tense, at times riveting action-thriller about innocents abroad. Supersize your popcorn, check your logic at the door and settle in for a pretty good ride.

Despite its grander ambitions, the film ultimately feels minor and superficial.

Noah’s awkward, unconvincing script aside, Lewis is the true weak link here as he struggles to sell Max’s wobbly lines and emotions. This is a thoroughly painful experience.

This fantasy, about a miniature horse aching to join Santa’s team of reindeer, works hard but underwhelms.

Curvature is a forgettable sci-fi thriller whose intriguing start gives way to an arcane, convoluted plot that fails to viscerally or emotionally engage.

Any potential enjoyment here is fatally undermined by the film's barely developed characters, self-conscious dialogue ("I will wax his tugboat!") and repetitive imagery.

Streak and Cooper are meagerly drawn characters, first-draft dialogue abounds, and the story proves more tedious and head-scratching as it goes.

For all its meanderings and indulgences — verbal and visual — this free-form snapshot of a circle of townsfolk in tiny Marfa, Texas, proves a sneakily immersive, weirdly memorable affair.

An effective weekend-from-hell thriller with a vital message, a terrific lead performance by Paula Patton and some unexpectedly dimensional storytelling from writer-director Deon Taylor ("Meet the Blacks").

Despite a strong lead cast and good intentions, Aardvark is a drag. Writer-director Brian Shoaf may have much to say about family dysfunction and its emotional effects but never finds a persuasive enough way to mine this oft-tread territory.

The film ultimately works best as a daughter's heartfelt tribute to an enormously devoted and emotionally generous parent. Unfortunately, that's just not enough to, well, connect us to the bigger picture.

The movie, which comes off strangely wide-eyed about such “outré” things as marijuana and same-sex attraction, evokes some 1970s-era George Segal vehicle as it struggles to pair hip defiance with come-to-Jesus-style pathos, the latter of which provides a few of the film’s more compelling moments.

Like the floundering filmmaker at its center, The Face of an Angel never seems sure of what story it wants to tell.

While the story's conceit brims with metaphor and symbolism, it rarely comes off as didactic or heavy-handed. Instead, it's smart and provocative. The movie's late-breaking twist also feels about right.

The noirishly titled Cold Comes the Night is a tense little thriller that provides juicy roles for its deft lead actors, Alice Eve and Bryan Cranston, as well as some well-played action and several neat twists.

Are You Here proves a gently immersive, ingratiating, often witty character comedy with a pair of comfortably effective lead performances.

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.

The grand Mirren is, truth be told, miscast and Pesci is misdirected as Grace and Charlie Bontempo.

Far too much of this plodding picture is spent on odd couple Chip and Alex's road trip transporting Mine That Bird to Kentucky. Forced atmospherics, clichéd action bits and some tone-deaf slapstick weigh things down as well.

Writer-director David Hayter revisits much-trod territory with wan results in Wolves, a werewolf tale that quickly loses its initial bite.

Although writer-director Scott Walker seems committed to not overly exploiting his lurid subject matter, the movie is just too dreary, disjointed and generically creepy to be persuasive.

The serviceable but astonishingly generic Damascus Cover features the usual political-thriller tropes — tough but haunted protagonist, zigzag of foreign locales, rival spies, arcane twists, shifting allegiances, wedged-in romance — without adding much that feels unique or exciting.

For much of the movie's running time, I wished I were watching Mel Brooks' classic take on Shelley's yarn, "Young Frankenstein." At least that one was intentionally funny.

It's no great surprise how things end up for this tossed-under-one-roof bunch. How they get there, however, provides a largely fertile playground for the picture's talented comic ensemble.

By turns sexy and exasperating, hypnotic and confusing, this Mexican import is an art film for the patient, adventurous and, let's be honest, forgiving.

It's absorbing, well-played stuff until Serena's emotional baggage turns her into a kind of lethal Blanche DuBois and melodrama overtakes the film's muscular bearing.

Unfortunately, much of the acting (save by Bagatsing and Rachel Alejandro as Quezon’s vigilant wife, Aurora) is so spotty that it undermines the story’s potential tension and emotional heft.

Several engaging main characters and warm cross-generational relationships can’t quite offset patchy storytelling and uncertain aims in Back to the Fatherland.

That the World War II-era drama Ithaca was directed by actress Meg Ryan may prove the most notable yet least successful thing about this oppressively sentimental journey.

A lovely and touching third act helps make up for a wobbly, at times convoluted first hour in the quirky fantasy-dramedy Walter.

Although Quinn may strike some viewers as more annoying narcissist than self-deprecating charmer, he's a vivid creation.

"Addicted" proves a strangely sad yet wildly compelling cautionary tale.

Lucky Bastard is a bold little thriller — and deft cautionary tale.

The movie is disturbingly reckless, needlessly brutal and deeply homophobic. Later attempts to wedge in a few nice moments between James and Kareem fall flat.

Judy Greer, the wonderful film and TV actress, makes an inauspicious directing debut with this unevenly paced, tonally awkward comedy.

Credible performances, effective visuals and tight pacing round out this chilling effort.

The good news about After Words is that it offers Marcia Gay Harden a rare film lead. The bad news: Harden's role in this groan-worthy dramedy is so dreary and ill-conceived that even her formidable talents can't bring it to life.

The operatic tragedy of Marguerite and Julien's plight proves an effectively creepy dramatic engine.

Offers mostly skin-deep snapshots of various men and their grooming habits.

An underwhelming jumble.

First-time writer-director John Alan Simon simply doesn't have a strong enough grip on the movie's narrative, pacing or performances to surmount the pitfalls of this ambitious, budget-conscious effort.

Although stylish and intriguingly told, the twisty crime drama "7 Minutes" never quite jumps out of the pack.

Loosies (slang for singly bought or bummed cigarettes - and a nod to Bobby's commitment phobia) proves a largely enjoyable ride.

There’s some overreach and muddle here — you wouldn’t want a pop quiz on the plot — but “Last Thing” remains an intriguing, visually diverting piece, well shot by Bobby Bukowski.

It’s Jasmine’s inept and unprofessional behavior during the film’s climactic trial that really sends the film into absurdist territory. It’s outdone only by a final sequence of events with a horror-show twist that might best be described as bonkers.

The supernatural thriller The Forest begins with an intriguing premise and fun, ghost story-type potential but quickly devolves into convoluted hokum that produces more laughs than scares.

Call it a dark farce, human comedy or wartime satire. But however you slice it, the ill-conceived morality tale A Farewell to Fools is a bust.

[Evans and de Armas] take the film’s ridiculousness just seriously enough to keep barreling through while navigating the more puckish bits with the requisite charm and buoyancy.

Beyond the Reach is a grueling, unsatisfying thriller that fails the logic test in spectacular ways.

When it comes to finesse or originality the first-time filmmaker falls desperately short, relying on hoary clichés; dreadful, chicken-fried dialogue; and an often cracked moral compass.

Sex Ed is a likable little comedy that features such a well-conceived and portrayed main character it makes up for the film's slender concept and leaps in logic.

The well-crafted Beneath proves a taut, atmospheric if not especially deep thriller.

Beyond a few nice closing emotional beats, the whole enterprise plays too desperate and slapdash to whip up the goodwill required to sell such thin, far-fetched material.

The film's first half is so annoyingly glib and faux-amusing, it sets a misguided tone that distances instead of engages.

The underwhelming, would-be political satire Knife Fight plays more like a failed network TV pilot than the savvy feature it clearly set out to be. Think: Aaron Sorkin-lite, uh, really, really lite.

This brief film often feels like an extended gripe session instead of something more profound or game-changing.

Writer-director John Chuldenko stretches a sitcom episode premise to feature-length breaking point in Nesting.

The Lifeguard is a watchable, emotionally redolent trip down one woman's memory lane.

With the nimble Greenwood and a kinder, gentler-than-usual Posey in charge, "And Now" proves a thoroughly engaging lark.

Joke-wise, there are several solid laughs (gotta love the "Pink Flamingos" line), but much of the humor underwhelms. A few sensible life lessons are tossed in for good measure.

After a grating start, the movie, directed by Peter Odiorne from a script by Gail Gilchriest ("My Dog Skip"), finds its way into warmer, more likable territory. That is, until it flies off the rails in a third act so devoid of logic it could have been concocted on the moon.

Christensen manages his fairly dimensional antihero role with physical and emotional aplomb, but onetime A-lister Cage looks and sounds too silly to take seriously. Worry not, fans of Cage's over-the-top stylings: Scenery is reliably chewed.

Director and star Lina Esco keeps this compact film moving with enjoyable buoyancy until it bids adieu with a showy climax that needs a serious postscript.

The script wields its symbolic hammer so heavily that it tends to smother the story’s more authentic emotions.

Director J Blakeson can't quite maintain the film's momentum while squaring its disparate parts, malleable story rules (weren't all power sources destroyed?), hokey dialogue and a crisscross of often one-note emotions.

A film whose poignancy is hard to deny whatever side of the abortion debate you fall on.

This often risible head-scratcher never cracks the surface of its muddled ambitions, largely wasting its iconic settings on a series of motley interactions, Tinseltown trivia and self-conscious philosophizing.

Addicted doesn’t know whether it wants to be a modern-day bodice-ripper, a morality-tinged cautionary tale or a serious snapshot of sexual compulsion. Whatever the case, it fails on all fronts.

Director John Suits seems more concerned with plying eyeballs with creepy atmospherics, showy visual effects and sexy interludes than with propulsive pacing or roiling tension.

As mindless entertainment goes, it's a pretty watchable time-passer.

Unbelievers' is a high-minded love fest between two deeply committed atheistic intellectuals and their rock star-like fan base.

The film is undermined by choppy editing and a penchant for hoary aphorisms and forced gravitas.

In attempting to spin out its competing storylines, the crime drama The Forger never quite gets a handle on either one. Still, an array of strong performances, including a well-calibrated turn by John Travolta, and compelling emotional moments help counter the patchy narrative.

A sluggishly paced collection of go-nowhere sight gags, flat-footed set pieces and incoherent business chatter that offers few laughs and little real payoff.

Though the dialogue is pretty basic and the narrative dots don't always quite connect, The Human Race, in its own gutsy, grindhouse-movie way, manages style, vision and tension.

Tyler Perry's The Single Moms Club is a sitcom masquerading as a feature film... Too bad he didn't just spare us the awfulness of this flat and phony slices-of-life dramedy and go right to series, where half-hour bites might have helped mitigate the pain.

More epic than it needs to be and less profound than it should be, Jolene remains a watchable excursion into human frailty and foibles.

Director David Gelb, switching gears from his fine 2011 documentary "Jiro Dreams of Sushi," keeps the mayhem moving briskly as an effective host of obstacles pile up in the script by Luke Dawson and Jeremy Slater.

There's likely an audience for the cloying and dizzying hip-hop dance flick Battlefield America, but even the most forgiving viewers may feel like they've been underestimated - and underserved.

It all plays out a bit randomly, but the leapfrogged plot points, thin characters and blunt messaging in Max Botkin and Marc Hyman's peppy script prove forgivable, given how this nicely modulated film largely avoids the hyper-aggressive jokiness and desperate stabs at relevance that often plague kidpics.

A frantic, badly constructed, slightly offensive muddle that doesn't so much end as run out of things on a checklist.

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

It may seem churlish to knock a film that works so hard to present everyday, well-meaning folks facing unspeakable, real-life pain. But between the picture’s uncertain tone, quirky-for-quirk’s-sake elements and such self-conscious dialogue as “What color is the sky in your world, kemo sabe?” it’s tough to be all that supportive.

It could have been a bit smarter and a lot shorter, but Blended, the third big-screen pairing for Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore (after "The Wedding Singer" and "50 First Dates"), is a fun, often funny, largely enjoyable romp.

Although Lovesick plays more like an extended sitcom episode than a full-fledged feature film, the script by Dean Young contains enough genuine laughs and amusing moments to keep this slight romantic farce afloat.

For all the attempted intrigue and mayhem, the film is dullsville, mired by a poky script, unremarkable action and, the hard-working Garcia aside, uninspired performances.