Joe Neumaier

For all the obviousness on the surface, and despite some forced last-act havoc, Breathe In works like a piece of chamber music. It goes up to the edge of emotion, circles it, then backs away. But the notes not hit seem as powerful as the ones that are.

Director Cathryne Czubek’s well-researched, incredibly lively chronicle of the way guns are marketed to, coveted by, and portrayed with women is a vital glimpse into a cultural phenomenon.

Sturgess is solid and Kingsley predictably sneaky, but the atmosphere -- scurries through the Catholic/Protestant border, tense stand-offs, spontaneous riots -- is what's genuinely gripping.

Most of the young men interviewed by Berg will be seen, and heard, by many audiences for the first time. Their voices are hard to forget.

Laughter may be the best medicine, but in Obvious Child, it’s also a helluva cure for dealing with a serious topic.

Leave it to Al Pacino to find the good in the mediocre.

Writer-director Ruba Nadda's film is ultimately like a summertime flirtation that never quite comes to anything.

As shown in this disarming and intimate documentary named after their band, the oddness of actually being sought-after was something neither was prepared for.

Director Samuel Maoz's gripping you-are-there feel does for tanks what "Das Boot" did for submarines, and that chokehold only gets tighter as this taut drama about the 1982 Israeli-Lebanese war goes on.

Colangelo shows a mature levelheadedness in depicting how close-knit communities fall and rise together.

Andrew Cohn and Davy Rothbart’s doc, exec-produced by Steve Buscemi and Stanley Tucci, is one more sad, serious eulogy for a way of life.

Kristen Wiig is scary. That’s a good thing. It’s part of her appeal as a comedian, and crucial in the funny-weird comedy-drama Welcome to Me, which uses the working-without-a-net aspect of Wiig’s humor to unsettling effect.

It’s hard to fault a movie like The Good Lie for its intentions. But it can be faulted for pandering, both to its subject and to audiences.

Director Mike Newell’s rich take on the story is a fine introduction for new viewers.

The result ends up like an "SNL" skit: knowingly over-the-top but still fun.

Bridges is enjoyable as he gives the older Flynn a Zen hero quality, and even breaks through the effects to make his younger-Clu-self oddly engaging.

Wong’s visual grandeur is, as ever, all-encompassing.

Writer-director Julia Loktev sustains the tension for long, Antonioni-esque passages that portend something momentous. The film delivers in unexpected ways, and then ponders what it means.

As a look at how we got from there to here, “Evocateur” is one for the time capsule.

What Room 237 is really about is how movies inspire passion. Which is a great thing, even if it comes out in wack-job ways.

The faces and voices are endlessly compelling as they talk about what inspires them to lay down beats and recall the early days in New York. Ice-T, disentangled from acting, makes himself a fine focal point.

Keshavarz's vision is clear and heartfelt, and everyone has an urgency in their eyes.

This beautifully photographed drama is well-played throughout with great conscience without becoming heavy-handed.

This trip through the seminal performance artist's (often literal) body of work is sometimes too cozy, yet Abramovic might argue that objectivity is impossible if truth is the destination.

Director Megumi Sasaki's film feels like a cozy visit with neighbors whose insights are priceless.

A well-done, conscientious and funny little film that recalls "Clueless," only with more heart.

Toscanini plays a role in the tale, as does Einstein and a young Zubin Mehta. If director Josh Aronson tries to follow a few too many strands of the story, it's only because there's so many tantalizing ones.

If Hitchcock had done a coming-of-age drama, it might have resembled this haunting, nervous, sad movie about an early twentysomething.