Gregory Ellwood

Beyond some obvious pot shots and on-the-nose metaphors, it begins to feel more and more like a missed opportunity than smart satire.

What’s fresh and compelling are Wilde and Hoffman. They are so stellar together that the film’s multiple endings work because they are front and center in them. In the end, almost despite Araki’s efforts, they make having “Sex” worth it

Both actors are superb, but the problem is that history isn’t really on their side. The incidents depicted in “Saipan” were dramatic in 2002, especially in the sports arena, and to a fixated Irish public who took sides. But two decades later, it all lands with a thud.

It’s one of those well-intentioned efforts that feels inherently too safe. There’s nothing wrong with that, but Roher teases that he knows he could reach higher.

It’s a marvel that Bennett crafted this screenplay almost at the age of 90. And his dialogue is often sharp and witty. The scenario is ripe for a captivating and moving drama. And yet, perhaps this was one project that needed a different director at the helm for the material to truly resonate.

The contemporary allegories are obvious, but too much of Vanderbilt’s screenplay gets lost in literal card tricks and heightened melodrama.

Mielants and Porter end the film in a manner that is almost offensive to the audience. This isn’t about providing a spotlight for kids with behavioral issues or the professionals who commit their lives to them; it’s melodrama for melodrama’s sake, with an awkward attempt at a “happy ending” that is borderline cringe.

Despite a “you can see it coming” final baccarat game in the third act, designed to crowd-please, it all somehow feels flat and generic. And, worse, decidedly not fresh.

O’Brien has never had the opportunity to play such a sketchy, dirty character before and utterly kills it. This is the sort of performance that make casting directors take notice.

The film’s saving grace, of course, is Squibb. When the movie needs her the most, she delivers. She brings the laughs and – almost – gives the film the emotional ending it’s aiming for.

The result is a drama full of intriguing ideas, and one unexpectedly memorable performance, that is often more obvious than it wants to be.

Despite a committed performance from Benedict Cumberbatch, the end result truly doesn’t coalesce either from an artistic or cinematic perspective.

When the laughs fade, the tone feels all too familiar. Despite superb work behind the camera and some picturesque Estonian locations, “Bubble” is less original than it wants to be.

Despite a talented cast, the comedic aspect of the movie is tepid at best. Outside of Ariel’s character (Edebiri saves a lot of it), the jokes are obvious and predictable. Moreover, Ariel is the only well-rounded character in the movie despite, maybe, the ego-driven Moretti.

These recollections might be captivating on paper, but they become somewhat monotonous and uninteresting on screen.

Along with some truly breathtaking visuals, the pint-size Ochi is the best part of Saxon’s long-in-the-works opus.

What keeps “Jimpa” from collapsing on itself is Colman’s steady turn (don’t forget, she’s so talented she was the only compelling aspect of Marvel Studios’ disastrous “Secret Invasion”) and Matthew Chuang’s wonderfully lush cinematography.

The result, as hinted earlier, is a high-end B-movie that would have been in heavy rotation on cable television’s TNT or USA Network as a wallpaper movie in the ’00s. And there is something genuinely fun about filmmakers wanting to dip their toes back into those waters. But, for that genre to work, it needs to be less bloated than this and, more importantly, not end by teasing a sequel.

Too much of Moana 2 is simply far too familiar to make it anything more than a convenient escape.

Despite a few too many storylines and Wilson’s comedic indulgence, the musical numbers are often inspired and pack a punch. Wilson proves she can direct the musical aspect of the movie, at least. And, boy, these Aussie kids, er, legal age twentysomething adults can sing.

If there is any saving grace to “Horses,” beyond Luc Montpellier‘s often painterly cinematography and Jeriana San Juan‘s superb costume design, is its commitment to chronicling this era of hidden queer love.

Ultimately, the biggest disappointment with “Relay” isn’t the big twist, you see that coming a mile away. The issue is the execution of everything thereafter is almost comical.

While the musical elements often take the movie to impressive artistic heights, it’s not just the storyline that ends up hindering Better Man.

Sure, Vikander and Olsen are superb as Mia has to constantly stop herself from wringing Virginia’s neck, but the whole endeavor increasingly feels flat.

The result is a melodrama where any sense of tension fades the longer Nina and Tito speak.

Unless you have truly transcendent performances or unforgettable cinematic moments, it’s difficult for this genre of sports story to really throw a unique punch.

All that being said, the songs are impressive enough that it’s not hard to envision “The End” becoming something of a cult musical. Five years from now, maybe less, some excited college freshman is going to convince the head of their college drama department to let them put on a stage version of this musical. And chances are, it will be a smash. This is material that, with some editing of its book (er, script), a spotlight on the songs, and natural physical intimacy, could flourish on the stage.

Regrettably, any sympathy the film has mustered is diminished by at least three, maybe four, additional endings that are frustratingly superfluous. These never-ending epilogues add nothing to what has come before it and, in many ways, curtail any emotional heights the film has garnered to this point.

[Kurzel's] depiction of the action scenes is as close to a filmmaking tour de force as you can get. Even for those who know the fate of The Order and its members, Kurzel and editor Nick Fenton will keep you riveted. Until, alarmingly, they don’t.

Honestly, you almost wish Singer had the foresight to ensure everyone involved took the proceedings completely seriously. That might have resulted in a camp classic that would be more memorable than this often aimless and thematically thin endeavor.

There are moments of genuine magic that make you wonder what this movie could have been. But do they linger like that imaginary friend you’ll never forget? In this case, perhaps not.

As the film progresses, the narrative choices somehow become even less believable and Lellouche begins to throw everything and the kitchen sink at the screen.

If the movie only serves as an appetizer for Liminov’s fascinating life, that’s something, I guess.

Despite the shootouts, some epic vistas (frankly, not as much as you’d expect), and a few fleeting moments of genuine tension, it all feels flat.

There is a kernel of an idea in Cano and Craig’s screenplay that’s worth exploring. The movie feels like it could or should be great, but it took a wrong turn somewhere on that dark road.

For kids, the film is watchable because Black still finds ways to boost the movie with genuine charisma through his vocal talents alone (so much so you wonder why he isn’t working more in live action) and, for adults, something is reassuring in the glorious exasperation that accompanies everyone of Hoffman’s line readings. Still, it all feels a little too by the book.

It turns out this endeavor is a manic mix of two different movies in one and the second barely redeems it enough to make you stick around for the end credits.

The third act often feels more like a cinematic exercise than a filmmaker who has something to say.

As Love Me unfolds, it becomes an exercise to explore how very human emotions affect evolving artificial intelligence beings. Although referring to it as an exercise sounds unfairly cold. The movie is certainly not that. Both Stewart and Yeun bring passion to their characters. . . But something feels off.

The actors are game, but their connection is more cutesy than romantic.

Thankfully, the film has Jamie Foxx on the bench in a truly funny and passionate turn as legendary lawyer Willie E. Gary.

To say Farber’s screenplay is plot-heavy is an understatement.

For the most part, One Life is chronicling very familiar WW II territory. It’s not difficult to prompt genuine tension from these horrific events, but Hawes’ depiction of them is simply too conservative.

After co-writing and producing Romain Graves’ own epic of civil unrest, 2022’s “Athena,” he steps behind the camera once more for his second feature directorial effort, “Les Indésirables,” and while the subject matter is just as timely, the overall result is slightly less scintillating.

Foster is so good you’re often rooting for Stoll to succeed more than Nyad. And sometimes a performance like that is all you need for a feel-good story like this one.

The film’s saving grace, as you’d expect, is Domingo. He conveys Ruskin’s inherent natural charisma so perfectly that no one will finish watching this film and wonder how such a flamboyant man became such a powerful figure in this homophobic era. Domingo’s performance makes you believe.

Unfortunately, Cailley’s conventional cinematic aesthetic is also often akin to a contemporary streaming movie (the first thirty minutes or seem like a television pilot) and while the visual effects are solid, there are few images that will stick with you hours after you’ve left the theater. What saves “The Animal Kingdom” is the genuine horror over this happening to anyone (Cailley gets that right, at least) and Kircher’s fantastic performance.

Over the course of three and a half hours, Bang both refutes and affirms the criticisms over working conditions for these workers, many of whom are migrants, traveling hundreds of miles (or more) to make money for their families back home.

While the filmmaker has a better grasp on conveying well-staged melodrama than many of his contemporaries half his age (Fabio Massimo Capogrosso’s score and Francesco Di Giacomo‘s cinematography assist), the heart of the story somehow still gets lost. Even a final scene that should capture the tragedy of this tale falls surprisingly flat.

Disappointingly, and despite the best intentions, Durham’s overwritten script diminishes some potentially truly moving moments over the course of the picture. There is simply too much clunky exposition.

Perhaps it worked better as a theatrical endeavor, but the result is a film that feels like a collection of familiar hospital set storylines thrown together without a true compelling throughline.

At its best, a welcome addition to the increasing number of contemporary Native American stories seen in the films such as “Songs My Brother Told Me,” “Wild Indian” and FX’s “Reservation Dogs.” At worst, it’s a disjointed narrative that sadly overstays its welcome.

It may be bloated, but Moonfall always feels like it’s moving at a somewhat brisk pace. And the filmmaker’s greatest talent is collaborating with visual effects teams to craft images that somehow get seared in your brain.

Despite a very frank and welcome illustration of gay sexuality rarely seen in modern media (in this manner at least), Greater Freedom continually teases us with storylines and subject matter by choosing to frame this era through a relationship that it cannot rationalize.

The film’s saving graces is not only Ahmed, who, as you’d expect, elevates the material every chance he gets, but his on-screen connection with Chauhan. Somehow, the relatively unknown Canadian actor gives one of the best performances from a young actor in recent memory.

You can certainly respect Sharpe for taking a big swing in this regard, but he can’t bring the proceedings back to earth when the audience needs some sort of emotional investment. This also ends up hampering Cumberbatch, who is giving one of the most committed performances of his life, but only to find it buried under all of the film’s extracurricular aspects.

At almost two-hours Worth somehow feels almost twice as long. Granted, we understand it’s a cliché to describe a film in such terms, but Colangelo and Borenstein are trying to cover too much ground that is, for lack of a better word, repetitive.

The only aspect of the film that even makes it watchable ends up being Shannon’s portrayal of Westinghouse.

The problem, unfortunately, is that Hope Gap is based on Nicholson’s play “The Retreat from Moscow” and the proceedings never really leaves the theater. Despite the director’s attempts to throw in [a few] drone shots to break up the drama and make the affairs inherently more cinematic, there are few scenes that don’t seem as though they would be more intriguing played out in front of a live audience.

A somewhat cool robot does not make a movie. ... The eventual twists aren’t that surprising and don’t really make sense in the context of even the film’s most basic world building.

Alfre Woodard may have graced us with the performance of her career.

The initial inspiration was clearly there, but the execution simply falls short.

Apologies in advance, but for lack of a better descriptor the whole thing is a mess. It’s not even good enough to be a cult movie which is backhanded compliment anyway. But, hey, at least the actors tried.

There’s a line for an audience between conveying the true horror of what occurred and being excessive and Maras barely avoids the latter.

Fogelman clearly gets a thrill in constructing a tapestry full of one random tragedy after another (seriously, almost nothing good seems to happen to these people long term). And he also appears to love manipulating the audience’s emotions with these subsequent tragedies.

Demange, who earned glowing reviews for his debut “’71,” tries to guide all these plotlines and characters with a steady hand, but it often feels too unwieldy. There are simply too many storylines and threads competing with each other. The result is a movie that it feels like snippets of a life instead of a portrait of one.

Boy Erased has problems depicting the fear, intimidation and psychological trauma such programs can inflict on even the most willing of participants. But that’s likely because, at its core, the film isn’t really about the gay conversion experience.

While Leigh transports you back to 1819 through these rich characters, he simply tests the audience’s patience in getting to the heart of the story. There is an abundance of formal speeches and long monologues in the film, and they are often arduous and repetitive.

Despite youngster Aksoy-Etaix’s commendable performance, not only will you not believe, you also won’t care.

The problem with Dosunmu’s follow-up to the more compelling “Mother Of George” is that there is so little story — and what story there is moves at such a snail’s pace — that all you have to look at are Young’s impressive compositions and then you wait…and then wait some more.

The worst aspect of ‘Rebel’ is that Strong seems to have no vision as a filmmaker. The movie thinks it’s throwing in some wise words about the art of writing, but they are superficial at best.

As the story progresses it becomes less and less interesting and worst of all – gasp – cliché.

There are elements of “The Yellow Birds” that should equate to a unique cinematic experience. Unfortunately, like Bartle’s return home, you leave the theater somewhat dazed, confused and thinking of what went wrong.

Unlike McDowell and Lader’s underrated 2014 comedic thriller “The One I Love” the most disappointing aspect of The Discovery is that it’s something of a bore. And when you find out what “The Discovery” really is you simply don’t care anymore.

There is a sense of exhaustive familiarity that permeates throughout Taylor Hackford’s new dramedy The Comedian.

What’s most disturbing is Jackson’s pedestrian direction has resulted in a film that barely recognizes how powerful this is in contemporary society.

All of “Pastoral’s” problems could have been slightly forgiven if McGregor showed a hint of inspiration behind the camera.

As a piece of filmed entertainment Snowden is certainly a watchable endeavor, but Stone and screenwriter Kieran Fitzgerald’s script is often an odd mix of hero worship, conspiratorial thriller and cringe worthy dialogue.

While Bercot's intentions are admirable, she and co-screenwriter Marcia Romano have conjured up too many moments that play out like thousands of courtroom scenes you've seen before.

The Program works when it has you questioning how on earth this secret could be kept so quiet for so long when so many people knew exactly what was going on.

The movie wants to make a statement about the intersection of art and family, but it’s all too muddled to add up to anything that astute.

Cranston has his moments and you have to laud his attention to detain in channeling Trumbo’s unique voice and mannerisms. Unfortunately, he’s so committed that his character borders on being a caricature.

An impressive cast and significant real-life events can’t trump the fact it’s a badly made movie.

All the actresses do their best with the material, but only Mulligan truly transcends its limitations.

Its admittedly interesting source material, but the movie’s tone is all over the place and not in a good way.

Despite the worthy efforts of stars Tom Hiddleston and Elizabeth Olsen, the Hank Williams biopic I Saw The Light is a shockingly bad movie.

Watts co-wrote the screenplay with Christopher D. Ford (“Robot & Frank”) and, frankly, it’s not as clever or compelling as it wants to be.... The filmmaker does deserve credit, however, for conjuring up some nicely tense cinematic moments.

The film feels 30 minutes longer than its 109 minute run time mostly due to the fact that “Paper” seems distinctly like three different films.

Unfortunately, Southpaw descends into a tedious exercise of formulaic filmmaking that leaves you feeling worse for Gyllenhaal and Whitaker than the characters they play on screen.

The resulting film is yet another example of a Black List script that does not work on the screen. And, frankly, we're not sure an auteur other than Van Sant would have fared any better.

Hou and cinematographer Ping Bin Lee (“Renoir”) produce some stunning images on location (one conversation takes place as a fog beautifully emits from the bottom of a valley), but it’s hard to find a thematic connection between the directing style Hou has chosen and the story.

Demoustier is charismatic enough to almost help Donzelli pull it off, but Elkaïm is so stiff as Julien you never understand why Marguerite is willing to risk her life in the first place.

His characters may spout Kant and debate the ethics of different human interactions, but it's only sugar coating on top of what is effectively a simple and familiar story.

Bale and Pike are superb. Despite some melodramatic tendencies and strange choices in Cooper’s script they make you have sympathy and compassion for each of their characters.

The film’s inherent problems, however, are two fold. First, the third of the picture is an absolute slog. The Zellner’s may have though this was a creative choice to make the comedic scenes funnier when they finally hit, but it simply doesn’t work. Second, the funny bits simply aren’t as funny as they should be.

In a vacuum, Langley’s true story is quite remarkable, but sadly, the elements don’t truly come together in this somewhat by-the-numbers film.

Sadly, even with the contributions of four screenwriters and the still underrated talents of Byrne...it simply doesn’t work.

It’s well crafted and compelling at times thanks mostly to the casts’ efforts, but there is an emptiness that permeates through the film as if a significant piece of Wilde’s demise is missing.