Katie Walsh

It's a fairly serviceable animated feature, with a few inspired elements, and more than enough gnome puns to go around.

Despite the ever-present layer of cheesiness, every now and again, some of those emotions are just big enough to land a somewhat effective blow right to the heart.

The primary characters and setting of "Barren Trees" are solid, but the overly complicated storytelling falters.

Walter brings a sense of the epic to Kelly's uniquely sensitive story that bravely faces down the good and the evil that exists within us all.

If the film is affecting, it's due to Quaid's dark, committed performance as an incredibly troubled man.

The story is larger than life. Padilha brings a frenetic, authentic style and flair to this depiction and never loses sight of its larger messages and themes.

The outlook of The Happys is reflected in its title — even when things are dark, Tracy maintains her sunny outlook. It might be a bit too spit-varnished shiny, but her happiness is hard-won.

Allure is powered by Wood's intense charisma. Laura deploys her magnetic gaze as a weapon, though the destruction she wreaks is most often directed at herself. The character's situation is always untenable, and as it collides with inevitability, the co-writer-director Sanchez brothers lose the tight grip of control they've maintained over the story.

The delicious silliness of The Hurricane Heist creeps up on you, because the absolutely wild action sequences as Will weaponizes the hurricane happen with very little fanfare or preparation.

You're either on board with this brand of outré exploitation or you're very much not on board. Return to Nuke 'Em High a.k.a. Vol. 2 is strictly for die-hard fans.

The aesthetic is just right, but it's a bit too obtuse, mannered and affected to sink its hooks into you, and it keeps the audience at arms' length.

Everything about Gringo, from the storytelling to the comedy to the cinematography is incredibly lackluster. The film is dark and dim, like everything's covered in a layer of dust. Oyelowo is quite endearing and funny as Harold, but he's given very little to work with.

This cute movie hits all the heartwarming notes — adorable seniors, sassy gender-noncomforming kid and a love interest for Irene. It all wraps up perfectly, and though it can seem a bit pat, "Don't Talk to Irene" is sincere enough to earn it.

The film feels like it doesn't hit its stride until two-thirds of the way through, when Davis unleashes Kendrick. It's a clever premise, and there are some great performances, including Kendrick's, but a few story elements are fumbled to the film's detriment.

The singular aesthetic is gritty, beautiful and expressive, and somehow, you want to root for the love story of Eli and Anya, thanks to the charismatic performances of Nicholson and Lopez.

The Ritual is efficient and highly effective in its style, relying on sound, creepy production design, and the men's own fear and misjudgment to create the sense of pervasive doom. We don't see the monster in too much detail, leaving the mystery intact, but the creature design is stunningly original.

With such a fractured narrative, it's difficult to get into a groove with these short, shallow and over-simplified stories.

This watered-down rom-com doesn't fully deliver but it's a diverting twist on the genre nonetheless.

The animation technology is top-notch, but the gentle spirit of Beatrix Potter's books is subsumed into a chaotic, violent mayhem, manically soundtracked to the day's hits.

The films are bad, but they are entertaining. Fifty Shades Freed, the final film of the trilogy, just might be the most competently made yet — which is a shame for those expecting the high camp factor of "Fifty Shades Darker."

A Lesson in Cruelty tries to affect a dark comedic tone, but fails spectacularly. There's no comedy, despite Lebrun's over-the-top vamping, and the dark elements are far too disturbing and violent.

Ball and screenwriter Nowlin keep a tight grip on the tone and the relentless pace, but they often back the story and characters into corners that only a deus ex machina can fix.

The songs are lovely, and the first-time actors give performances that grow warmer as the film progresses, and their characters release, relax and find a groove, if only for this moment in time.

Please Stand By has its surface charms...but if you look under the hood, the film just doesn't work.

Nibali and Galati deliver their lines in matching monotones, in scenes that are simply deadening. None of the trio of leads has the presence to carry the film, though Mihaljevich displays a flicker as the dangerous sociopath Wendel. Alexander's limited style doesn't help these performances either, nor does the wildly underwritten script.

My Art is an amusing riff on the way one’s creative work bleeds into one’s personal life, and Simmons expresses a singular voice and style, despite the missteps in storytelling.

Freak Show is carried by a fully committed performance from Lawther, who quivers and swans and roars like the best of the Hollywood grand dames.

Gudegast's twisty, turny tale of heists and homies is an action-packed romp with a good sense of humor and self-awareness. It's rendered with a startling attention to detail, but one has to wonder if with that detail, he can't quite see the forest for the trees.

Forever My Girl doesn’t stray from the formula or do anything revolutionary. But for an audience seeking fluffy, escapist, country music-tinged romance, it’ll hit a sweet spot.

Proud Mary isn't a retro action thriller at all, but a staid family drama, and an incredibly boring one at that.

For all of its incompetency of craft, like a strange bit of outsider art, the film showcases a fascinatingly unrefined look at the very real fear felt by immigrants in Donald Trump's America.

The smart premise is muddled with far too many tangents — bumbling romances, rivalries with old classmates, troubled cats, precocious teens, angry dance sequences. When focusing on the central relationship, the film is at its best.

Father Figures is a movie, ostensibly. I'm pretty sure it is. Moving images were projected, along with recorded sound, which indicates it is a movie, but the effect was so listless, low-energy and profoundly unentertaining that I jotted down in my notes "what even IS this?" It would be more accurate to describe the experience as a nearly two-hour borderline hostage situation, with torture involving bad, offensive and unfunny "comedy."

The twists and turns of the story keep you on your toes until the very end, never giving anything away. The verbal blows drop as fast as the bodies, and if British aristocrats fighting over money, beautifully, is your thing, Crooked House will more than satisfy, it will thrill.

Pitch Perfect 3 is so breezy it's completely weightless, but it manages to deliver just enough of the goods.

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle is a one-joke movie, relying on the subversion of physical stereotypes, but thanks to impeccable casting and fun performances, that joke is very well-executed.

Spent exhausts the audience’s goodwill within the first few minutes of this bizarre project, and requires the utmost patience to endure.

Beyond Skyline is a boldly bonkers film, and it leans into its genre goofiness with a straight face thanks to Grillo. But more humor would have gone a long way in sustaining interest and entertainment, as it’s not quite funny, and too low-budget to take seriously.

With a lovely voice performance from Cena, the spirit of Ferdinand does shine through. But the rest of the story filler is mostly forgettable.

Though I Am Evidence processes a tremendous amount of data and information, it’s a deeply personal and intimate film. However distressing it may be, it leaves room for hope.

The Dancer is such a bold and assured film, wildly creative and sensual, that it feels far more sophisticated than a debut, and signals Di Giusto as one to watch.

Kaleidoscope is brilliantly crafted and performed, but it’s a bit too taken with its own muddling of facts and form to truly hook into.

This debut effort from Hickman lacks the dramatic tension and connective tissue to truly compel, but his gritty, high-energy aesthetic can no doubt be applied to better results with a stronger script.

Ultimately, it feels irresponsible to remain unwilling to take a stand on this extreme abstract rhetoric in support of an all too real and immediate threat.

As comfortable to slip into as an afternoon in the sun, as satisfying as a late-night piece of cake, Princess Cyd is a jewel of a film that plumbs thematic depths far below its surface.

For a film that’s incredibly angry and blackly comic, it finally, and surprisingly, makes a case for compassion and understanding.

To consider the long-standing Bourj al Barajneh is to consider the true humanity of refugees, who have hopes, dreams, lives to live and work to do. “Soufra” efficiently and effectively illustrates those ideas.

For all of the mini-melodramas that populate this tale, and the repellent ickiness in the central relationship, the worst part about Almost Friends is how incredibly dull and dramatically inert it is.

It's a serviceable animated movie appropriate for the season, but there's nothing beyond its source material that marks it as particularly unique or special.

The breathtakingly bad Justice League, with its corny banter and terrible effects just might signify a return to that goofy Batman form.

Art Show Bingo might be sweet, but it's dramatically inert.

Morgan’s arch script about the doomed love lives of the young, rich and idle in L.A. is at times a Whit Stillman-esque social satire. There’s a whiff of a whip-smart, acid-tongued Jane Austen heroine in Annette, but she’s lacking an essential ingredient: empathy.

The surreal and silly sequel to the hit 2015 comedy skates on the well-known but still-appealing comic personas of stars Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg and their zany chemistry.

Anchored by Asensio's fearless and gripping performance, Most Beautiful Island directs an unflinching point of view toward an often invisible population.

What's offensive about A Bad Moms Christmas (and “Bad Moms”) is just how shoddily made it is.

Suck It Up is directed with a fluid, crisp sense of energy and musicality by Canning, with a rock/grunge soundtrack

Wong’s deft script and sure-handed direction means that even as these characters spiral, we never blame one or the other. It’s a unique approach to storytelling and character building, and it signals Wong as a major talent to watch.

It’s not an intimate portrait of the woman, but a celebration of the sex-positive, taboo-breaking image she created for herself and the way she rocked American culture during a hugely transitional moment.

Refreshingly resistant to predictability.

While parts of Thank You for Your Service work well, overall, the film is inconsistent.

Ultimately Suburbicon is woefully underwritten. Gardner and Maggie are mere sketches, a set of facial tics and accessories masquerading as real characters.

Same Kind of Different as Me takes its time, but the performances by Kinnear, Zellweger and especially Hounsou sneak up on you, building to an emotional, but not overstated climax.

A jumbled nonsensical mess.

The self-seriousness of this loony swing-and-a-miss shares a tone with Tommy Wiseau’s outrageously amateurish cult classic “The Room” but isn’t nearly as entertaining.

It’s an artful, boundary-pushing debut from Radcliff and Wolkstein, with breakthrough performances from Freedson-Jackson, and Pettyfer, perhaps signaling a new direction in his career.

Coltrane displays a range he hasn’t shown before onscreen, dipping into darker realms as the romantically spurned blue collar townie Victor. But Fitzgerald runs away with Blood Money as femme fatale Lynn.

Tonally, M.F.A is sometimes jarring, as these outrageous, fantastical killings are motivated by authentic, grounded emotions. But at the center, Eastwood is absolutely riveting, inhabiting a true violent vigilante worth rooting for.

It’s at once talky yet emotionally remote, and while posing a risky set of questions about sexual abuse, power and relationships, the experience is an unsatisfactory and draining slog.

Despite its literary origins, the film feels a bit like a writer tossed a few darts at a board labeled with aging action stars and various terrorist groups and just decided to make it work.

Shanahan shows potential as the hunky but clueless leading man, and Dixon displays a solid point of view with a refreshing perspective centered around women’s success and choices.

The Legend of 420 captures a zeitgeist, but with so many facets to explore in this survey of contemporary American marijuana culture, it only scratches the surface.

I Am Another You is a remarkably sensitive and lovely portrait of an individual, a family, and a life that shines an uncommonly humane light on the issues of mental illness and homelessness.

It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but for those who already love it, it’ll be just right.

The Mountain Between Us falls flat, struggling to truly enthrall beyond a basic love story.

’Til Death Do Us Part takes on the admirable task of depicting life with an abuser and the very real obstacles to starting over. But its stereotypical writing, which errs on the side of cheesy and hackneyed, rather than deep and psychologically rich, dooms “’Til Death.”

It ends on a rather strange and unsettling note. Framed in a different context, this story could almost be a horror film.

Music and sports are a fascinating blend, as both baseball and rock offer collective community celebration and catharsis, with Wrigley as the host. Mostly though, it’s fun to see rock god Eddie Vedder reveling in his own fandom, the joy he shares with all of Chicago and Cubs fans everywhere.

Unrest is a sensitive and arresting rally cry for increased awareness about this disease, and an existential exploration of the meaning of life while battling a crippling chronic illness.

Eventually, it loses steam while riding a line between outrageousness and earnestness and never quite comes together.

The film clearly comes from a place of deep knowledge about the intricacies of schizophrenia but has an unfortunate tendency to overexplain itself.

When he finally learns to settle into the moment, to find contentment in the things he already experiences, it's a beautiful and quiet revelation, rendered with Mike White's singular sensitivity and gentle touch.

It's the highest praise to describe Friend Request as "a hoot" — the kind of midnight movie best seen with a large crowd laughing and screaming along, offering words of advice or encouragement to the naive characters on screen.

Some aspects of the film are quite entertaining. Garmadon is a great character, especially as voiced by Theroux (his pronunciation of Lloyd as "Luh-Loyd" doesn't get old).

It’s all too sterile and stilted, distracting from the deeply emotional story of love and loss at its core.

At times it is a bit unfocused, following a loosely chronological but otherwise haphazard structure. Yet it’s still a treat to spend time in the company of a true artist, never before illuminated with such clarity.

Ultimately, what's revealed in the new biopic of young Salinger, written and directed by Danny Strong, poses some interesting questions, but doesn't live up to the power of the mystery around the man itself.

The quasi-magical realist film In Search of Fellini has its heart in the right place but wears its studied quirks on its sleeve, leading with influences and references rather than a strong story.

Kill Me Please acknowledges the dark and riotous physical energy of teen girls in this tribute to slasher films and coming-of-age comedies that proves to be a new classic from first frame to last.

Frost memorializes his experience of this day, but it’s just not enough to make a significant comment about the event.

The rousing Indian drama Lipstick Under My Burkha, co-written and directed by Alankrita Shrivastava, takes on the repressive traditions around gender and sexuality in that country with refreshing candor and humor.

Home Again" is pure fantasy, all softly-lit, perfectly styled, looking like the cover of Sunset magazine. A world where a 40-year-old single mom is pursued by no fewer than four handsome men. But within that fantasy is also a wonderfully deft demonstration of feminine autonomy in matters of sex, love and marriage.

It’s faithfully formulaic, but the cast makes it appealing.

“Beside Bowie” could use more structural rigor in the edit, but it’s an illuminating film about a man who deserved more shine.

With its unexpected story and businesslike filmmaking, Unlocked proves to be a satisfying thriller starring one of the most exciting current female action stars, who toils and shines in these workmanlike roles.

Bell jettisons any possibility for radical ideals or emotional poignancy in favor of a hackneyed rom-com ending tacked onto a movie that’s both stale and unpleasantly madcap.

Mark Gill’s debut feature, England Is Mine, tackles the early life of Moz, but unsatisfyingly stops just short of the Smiths, telling a rather disjointed origin story.

The cinematic execution of All Saints is serviceable at best. It's stilted at times, with too much dead air hanging around, and the stakes and roller coaster of ups and downs in the script often seem out of step with the emotion on-screen.

Though the distressingly large lollipop heads of the characters are often disconcerting, some of the animation is striking and near photorealistic. At times though it seems all of the resources have been put into the background environment instead of the characters.

Unleashed, written and directed by Finn Taylor, works because of the collective commitment to the magical realism on-screen.

A truly inspirational, emotional and profoundly moving film.

In Lemon, Bravo and Gelman find a transcendent absurdity in the mundane that’s awkwardly enchanting. It’s more tart than sweet, but deliciously weird nonetheless.

It’s an unexpectedly radical, if otherwise rather rote animated sequel.

For all its bloody and violent genre trappings, Pilgrimage — directed by Brendan Muldowney and written by Jamie Hannigan — is a gorgeously shot film that carefully renders the details of this fascinating historical period.

It's simply a treat to watch Sandberg's style on display in Annabelle: Creation, filled with circling dolly shots that reveal and conceal evil in torturously teasing ways, effective narrative use of practical lighting for dramatic effect, and heart-pounding sound effects and a score of screaming strings.

Somehow, An Inconvenient Sequel is empowering, not depressing.

For all of Berry’s breathless, screechy effort, Kidnap doesn’t contain any suspense or tension.

The story is spread too thin, or perhaps there just wasn’t that much substance to begin with.

This visceral and anxiety-laden vision ends on an uneasy, though hopeful, note.

Escalante draws remarkable performances out of his cast of mostly newcomers in this film about the consequences of pleasure and the many meanings of flesh; where animal intelligence fills the void left by emotional disconnect.

The Conway Curve wants to be a world of colorful characters, wacky high jinks and happy endings, but it’s just so stilted and blandly unfunny that it can’t support its own frantic antics.

The Emoji Movie could not be more meh.

It's a shame, because Atomic Blonde is a visual cinematic delight. It's not that it's all style, no substance. But it doesn't seem to know what to do with its substance, and ultimately, Atomic Blonde becomes a film that's all dressed up with just nowhere to go.

Every character states their inner motivation out loud, often without prompting, making for a film that loses its intrigue almost immediately.

Who the … is That Guy shines a light on Alago’s amazing life story, but the film itself lacks the verve and style of its subject.

All the women turn in funny performances — it's great to see Pinkett Smith cut loose, and the charming and radiant Hall displays a faculty for physical comedy — but this is Haddish's movie, and will make her a star.

Stylistic choices could have undermined the film, but the story and revelations are so shocking and powerfully absorbing that The Skyjacker’s Tale rises above.

Wish Upon isn't over-the-top wacky or campy, and in fact, feels slightly low-energy at times, but it's the kind of simple filmmaking coupled with absolutely insane writing and plot points that make it an ideal candidate for so-bad-it's-good viewing.

The cast is rounded out with likable comedians, but this fable can’t decide if it’s going to be deliciously bad or morally upstanding.

It's the non-superhero elements of Spider-Man: Homecoming that make it a great movie, and a non-stop fun summer flick. There isn't an ounce of fat on this film, packing in so many story elements and characters, while finding room for small, funny asides and moments that make it an addictively rich, idiosyncratic and re-watchable movie.

While there’s no shortage of comedy talent on screen in The House, there’s a dire lack of actual laughs to be found in this strange shell of a movie.

The Little Hours gets freaky, but it never feels truly subversive, or even that titillating.

The whole thing might as well all be written in Minions chatter. It's wacky, but somehow dull, kind of like conversing with a Minion.

It's a thrill to watch it unfold, but the slick filmmaking combined with familiar tropes precludes most spontaneity.

The House on Coco Road is a remarkable document of how social forces affected the lives of Baker and his ancestors. It might lack the scope to encompass all of the story it wants to tell, but it’s a compelling conversation starter.

47 Meters Down doesn't have the campy sparkle that made “The Shallows” a cult hit, but it's the kind of cheesy thriller that's good for a few jumps and a few chuckles at its own silliness.

Shipp nails the energetic, motor-mouthed cadence of the outspoken Shakur. But the film surrounding Shipp is rough going.

The film starts off a bit rocky, as the story elements are established, but gets better and funnier as it builds, leaning into the craziness as the dominoes fall into place.

The drought is ultimately presented as a man-made occurrence, wrapped up in regulations and red tape, rather than a troubling environmental reality. The reality is far more complicated than anything that can be neatly wrapped up within the conventions of genre filmmaking.

While it’s a cute love letter to a certain strip of L.A., and Annenberg brings a winsomeness to her role, the story is thin and clichéd, relying on tired gags and stereotypes for humor.

It commits the worst comedy crime of all — there’s no punchline.

At times Miles feels a bit rickety around the edges, but the character at the center is instantly relatable and has a relaxed charm that makes the story compelling.

Animals make for good screenwriting devices, as characters can speak their inner feelings to them, but that doesn't make for the most subtle or efficient screenwriting.

The film has the feel of a television news program, and at feature length lags. But the sheer overwhelming enormity of this injustice pierces through, poignantly, again and again.

The story of Captain Underpants is funny, fresh and frantic, playing with format and genre, adding meta, self-reflective winks. The film is propelled by its hyperactive energy and quirky style...and the combustible chemistry between the two leads.

The film is a true dramedy that wrestles with the darker, sadder elements of life in a frank, funny and deeply relatable way.

Jacobs simply can’t make any of it work.

Beautiful gems of wisdom and life lessons are contained within Buena Vista Social Club: Adios. The picture is an edifying celebration of this music, humanizing and contextualizing it beyond its popularity, locating its roots within a history informed by politics, colonialism, oppression, and racism.

There are no new treasures to be found in this installment, which is dragged down by the anchor of a prescribed franchise blueprint.

Aside from its leading lady, what Everything, Everything has going for it is its light, fantastical aesthetic, an unexpected sense of buoyancy and light.

The film is a fascinating and sometimes terrifying introduction to ayahuasca. Surreal sequences mimicking the hallucinogenic experiences during the ceremonies are unnecessary and pale in comparison to the real transformation we witness.

The film articulates a concept of universal humanity. No matter the religion or circumstances, we all have the same desires for peace and connection throughout life.

The camera work is meticulous and exquisite in its expression, creating a sense of tense foreboding throughout, linking characters and images with a creepy omniscience.

A dirge of unfunny scatological material, techno-anxiety and child endangerment masquerading as familial bonding. Settle in for the "Long Haul," because this is one bumpy, miserable ride.

The refreshing element is that the story resists normative fantasies of sex or romance — in Paris Can Wait, Coppola focuses on the relationship to the self.

While Lowriders offers an interesting entree into this world, it's unfortunately too formulaic and predictable to leave much of an impact.

The Lovers is not about them as individual performers; it's about these actors working in tandem with each other, the script, the director and the other actors. The film works as a whole, not a sum of its parts.

The themes with which Thier wrestles, and her anthropological exploration of city life is more compelling than some of the more melodramatic plot elements. But the film’s flaws don’t detract from the ideas she presents.

Tamblyn’s at no loss of interesting things to say and show on screen, and Paint it Black has some real gems among the jumble, especially Shawkat, who ably shoulders the task at hand, and gives a raw and sensitive performance of a woman dealing with the loss of a lover far too young.

With wooden performances and a lack of character development, Below Her Mouth is more X-rated, late-night cable skin flick than trenchant exploration of female sexuality.

Rapace’s daring performance and Shainberg’s unique approach make Rupture a surprising slice of schlock that you won’t soon forget.

Though this movie has its outrageous moments, Di Novi puts the female emotional journey up front and treats things respectfully. But every erotic thriller needs some crazy, and thank goodness for Heigl's full commitment to her character's insanity.

Sleight fuses superhero story with a tough coming-of-age tale, and it enlivens and elevates both genres into something new and different, while heralding the arrival of Latimore as a star.

Though deeply personal and heartfelt, the overwrought film falls prey to too much melodrama and not enough realism or humor.

The message stays firmly on spiritual questions about the circle of life, but doesn't educate or leave the audience with a call to action about how to personally act to protect these animals, and that feels like a missed opportunity.

With seemingly all the right pieces, it's a disappointment that The Promise lacks the energy and originality needed to sustain itself. It might be fresh material, but the approach is decidedly stale.

All This Panic is a deeply felt tribute to youth but also to growing up; it’s a time capsule of a fleeting, fragile moment when angst is mixed with beauty and everything seems ripe with potential.

The film is an astute character study that is analytical but never unemotional.

Lynskey, Ellis, and Jackson are charming enough to buoy this lightly dramatic tale, but with a laid-back energy the stakes are never quite high enough. “Little Boxes” offers tame social commentary in a pleasant package.

Arnow sheds any trappings of fiction, presenting herself, her filmmaking, her relationships and her sex life in an at times shockingly frank manner. It’s refreshing to see a filmmaker embrace this honesty with such gusto (which, like life, is often painful or awkward to experience).

The maximalist approach isn’t necessary to enhance the wild tales, but the film does reflect its subject in its messy yet invigorating approach.

The film feels cluttered by all the other nonsense of girls, rivalries and friendships that could have been pared down for a more efficient narrative.

The jokes are sodden, relying on tired wordplay and sarcastic delivery to draw the faintest of laughs.

Aftermath can’t quite sustain its controlled tone, relying on operatic melodrama and limp plot twists as it concludes in an uneasy resolution.

From the homophobic slurs to the lowest common denominator body humor to the stale gender politics, Pitching Tents is all cutesy retro raunchiness without any innovation or comedic payoff. It might have been excusable back in the day, but now it’s just boring.

Carrie Pilby is a studiously quirky affair, but only the natural charm of Powley salvages that tone. The film swings wildly from melancholy to wacky, never truly melding the two; it somehow also lacks verve and energy.

The Boss Baby is great fun for parents, but it remains to be seen if kids will get it at all.

The film's flaws in pacing and suspense are easily overlooked in the shadow of Chastain's moving performance, as well as the performances of those around her. Caro unspools an evergreen tale about the clarifying power of empathy to diffuse fear and hatred.

Folk Hero & Funny Guy is an amiable road movie powered by great music. But it’s much more than just that, with deeply felt, lived in emotions capturing the ups and downs of longterm friendships, the nervous spark of a new attraction, and the power of making amends.

Power Rangers maintains the essence of its origins in that it’s rather pleasantly bonkers. It errs on the side of goofy rather than gritty, and that’s to its favor.

The jokes are dirty and wildly inappropriate, but are thoughtfully played.

It’s all feather-light, low-stakes stuff where it’s about the journey not the destination, and not judging a book by its cover. It skates by on the charisma of its stars but evaporates on contact.

The commentators speak about the enjoyment of watching these athletes suffer, but “Fittest on Earth” deftly tracks the emotional trajectory as well. Plus, the slow-motion shots of gloriously muscled bodies in peak physical form will definitely inspire a trip to the gym.

By the end of the film, you're left with the unshakable feeling that everyone involved, from actors to filmmakers to the audience, is, and should have been, better than material like this.

Anchored by a quartet of equally strong and understated performances by Hemingway, Stanfield, Wisdom, and Dillon, Live Cargo proves itself to be a singularly artful film of great emotional heft.

The friendship lessons are sweet enough, but such a low-stakes story strains one’s patience for such affected cinematic style.

Sanga’s roundabout storytelling and sensitive exploration of contemporary issues around sexual identity and consent makes First Girl I Loved a sophisticated and complex teenage coming of age story. It’s Gelula’s performance that brings the emotional weight necessary to drive the story forward.

As Sam, Deutch is supported by the likes of Halston Sage as uber mean girl Lindsay, using her armor as a weapon, Logan Miller as longtime pal Kent, and Medalion Rahimi and Cynthy Wu as the rest of her clique. But this is Deutch's film.

Though the dialogue is written with all the finesse of a self-help book, and the visuals are a garish technicolor explosion, there are some nuggets of wisdom that do resonate, regardless of personal belief.

Where “The Raid” films used a thin story to efficiently showcase the rapid-fire lethality of silat, Headshot attempts to wrangle an emotional back story into the proceedings, which is a hard combination to stomach when the characters are brutally beating one another senseless.

Lovesong is a character study of this relationship, casually yet carefully sketched out by Kim in subtle but meaningful gestures and glances. Much is communicated through the eyes, searching for answers in the void of what’s not said, but felt.

This lyrical and ethereal film mixes the stark style of a crime story into a love story, capturing the highs, lows and the deepest, darkest recesses of grungy, stoned teenage life; a life always yearning for more.

It doesn't gel and lacks the kind of visual kinetic energy we’ve come to expect from films of this ilk.

Erasing Eden is an exploration of self-sabotage and destruction that makes vague gestures toward the self-empowerment found in personal choice, but those morals are lost in the downright disturbing and degrading gauntlet Eden has to walk through to find herself.

The Great Wall defies any expectations — it’s absolutely bonkers wild.

It’s fascinating to observe how the feminine perspectives of XX create four powerfully compelling and original horror tales that operate within the genre while testing the boundaries of traditional storytelling and style.

A Cure for Wellness is an odd film. It's exceedingly well-crafted; the attention to detail and design, composition and camera movement on display here has largely been abandoned by recent horror films grasping for a jarring sense of realism.

It’s an overwhelming, and sometimes disorganized firehose of information.... Ultimately, however, I Am Jane Doe is a powerful call to action to protect children over profit.

The film can’t quite figure out how to wrap up, overstaying its welcome with multiple resolutions, but its heart is in the right place, using fantasy to reveal poignant truths about empathy and redemption.

It’s a taut, if somewhat hysterical, cycle of bait and switch, twists and turns, retribution, vengeance and mental torture payback for immature mind games with deadly results.

The last third of the film descends straight into a combination of "Dynasty" with shades of cult classic "The Room." It's fantastic because it's complete and utter silly madness. Helicopter crashes! Slaps! Drinks thrown in faces! Fully clothed shower sex! A framed "Chronicles of Riddick" poster! All the makings of an instant cult classic.

It’s crisply shot but suffers from poor, amateurish editing, an overwrought dramatic score and the storytelling fails to compel. The acting, writing and directing of American Violence indicate this flick is strictly a B-movie, but its tone is far too self-serious to have any fun with at all.

The Trouble With Terkel feels painfully outdated and stale, with rudimentary computer-generated visuals and characters that are potty-mouthed only for the sake of provocation.

The Hero feels looser, more abstract, and more symbolically ambitious than the winsome “I’ll See You In My Dreams,” and at times you wish for a bit more narrative rigor. But it’s nonetheless a resonant depiction of a man fearlessly reckoning with his life, his image and, most importantly, his heart.

Filmmaking duo Olivier Ducastel and Jacques Martineau have crafted a film that articulates the ability for sex to produce just a little bit more love in the world, for a moment or an eternity.

His latest film, Gold, directed by Stephen Gaghan, is his most extreme character work yet, with him playing a balding, paunchy, cigarette chomping gold prospector in the 1980s, and yet McConaughey is so good he makes it work.

The film has all the emotional resonance of a dog-themed novelty coffee-table book. Adorable, but ultimately forgettable.

Heineman has a unique ability to condense and explain complicated information and political events without straying from the deeply personal journeys of his subjects or relying on talking heads or text.

It’s a loving, honest portrait of these men who were world-famous for a bright moment, and most importantly, what happens after the limelight goes away.

What makes The Resurrection of Gavin Stone singular is its fresh and thoroughly modern approach to evangelical Christianity.

My Father Die is all provocation and no substance, and therefore completely meaningless.

They Call Us Monsters is restrained, sensitive and quietly heartbreaking.

Pure spectacle has since been subsumed into narrative filmmaking, but the cinema of attractions is always present, especially in modern action movies, and there may be no greater current example of this than xXx: The Return of Xander Cage.

While McAvoy is known for his dramatic roles, and as the young Charles Xavier in the "X-Men" franchise, he's delightful when let off the leash and allowed to show off his loud, campy, unhinged side.

On first glance, Monster Trucks looks so-bad-it’s-hilarious, and it’s a bit heartening to report that it’s not quite that. The monsters are cute and charming, the production value is high, and the trio of Lennon, Levy and Lowe bring just enough quirk to brighten up the humorous beats.

There’s more focus on the dull mystery and predictable story twists, and not nearly enough choreographic ecstasy on-screen.

The Bye Bye Man is cheesy, but it feels knowingly cheesy, with a heavy dose of wink-wink, nudge-nudge from the filmmakers.

For a film thats trying very hard to make you feel, it sure leaves you cold.

In its loose, hallucinatory narrative, we gain a sense of the nightmares caused by a loss of spirituality and physical connection. It may leave you questioning if the Mayans were right all along.

The loose style of the film is held together by the strong performances from the leads and supporting actors alike.

The biggest problem with Why Him? though, isn't him, it's her. Stephanie is so underwritten, that though these men are competing ruthlessly over her, she drops out of the story completely. She's the center of attention, but she's a void.

The beauty of Lion is that it explores and allows for the unique possibilities and power of multiple homes, multiple families and multiple selves.

The problem is that one can't help but think of better, more interesting movies based on this premise.

It's a cute movie with genuinely funny moments (keep an eye out for the koala car wash), and some great tunes to boot.

Assassin's Creed will be polarizing, but it's fascinating as an entry in Kurzel's oeuvre. It is singularly his film — both in style and the obsession with hubris, power and violence.

The film is ponderous, the performances mostly subdued.

Two Weeks to Go is not a movie, it’s a sketch of a character study or a possible outline for a future project. It’s most definitely self-indulgent drivel.

Collateral Beauty is much more shallow nonsense than anything else.

The film is a respectful analysis of burgeoning sexuality, the sometimes embarrassing missteps that come along with figuring it out, and exploring that all through fiction.

While the information presented might not come as news to many, the way that O’Hara synthesizes the massive volume of it into a personal story of herself and Servan-Schreiber, is immensely captivating and persuasive.

Somehow, despite the sexist, foul-mouthed rancor, there are messages to be found about the false promises of toxic masculinity and learning to be the person you want to be without repeating the sins of your parents. Though it’s rough going to get there.

The borrowed concept is all it has going for it, and at nearly two hours it stretches the conceit and the performers far beyond their range. It’s a minor effort overly indebted to its references.

The greatest strength of Office Christmas Party is its casting. If you’ve got fabulous weirdos Kate McKinnon and T.J. Miller in lead roles, there are bound to be more than enough laughs.

It’s an interesting concept and Fools executes it well enough, though too often it leans on ambiguity and odd interactions.

Pet isn’t much more than a twist on an old conceit, and the character beats are painted with overly broad strokes, but it’s sharply shot with a crystalline sense of unease, and Monaghan and Solo lean into their creepy performances wholeheartedly.

Enjoy a marathon of Bravo’s real estate reality shows for more nuanced characters and compelling story lines instead.

What emerges is a portrait of doctors and staff who work hard to do the right thing for their patients and the babies, who have no voice. It is life, fought for and forged in the most difficult of circumstances.

The film’s quiet impact comes as it leads us along John’s journey to understanding this disability as an unexpected, but ultimately accepted, gift.

It would still be a stinker even if it wasn't cloaked in a dark shroud of cultural and political relevancy. It's just that bad.

Bad Santa 2 relies entirely too much on the salty stuff, offering an opportunity for audiences to titter at the firehose of vile gutter humor that leaves no one unsullied, and delves into some truly dark places.

Nobody Walks in L.A. rides on the easy, sunny charm of the lead duo, as well as the beauty and personality of the city.

Writer-director-editor Danny Sangra takes on the complicated relationship between art and commerce in the sharp, surprising Goldbricks in Bloom.

The utterly winning documentary The Anthropologist takes a unique perspective on the field of anthropology through the lens of a pair of female anthropologists and their daughters.

The situation seems dire in many ways, though Yastrzhembskiy offers some hope at the end of the film, along with solutions to controlling demand in the ivory market. It’s a powerful call to action and a reminder of the bloody global implications contained in a single trinket.

A couple of flashbacks color in their history but feel unnecessary, as the script and actors ably express the complicated history between the two men. The weekend in the desert is all that is needed to bring to life this romantic drama about revisiting the roads not taken.

For all the over-the-top operatic moments — car wrecks and prom throwbacks and rifles at the dinner table — there's something about the wild tonal shifts and chaos of Almost Christmas that rings true about the holiday season.

The gently affecting Keep in Touch extends its stay a bit too long, stretching the story where it could have been more efficient. But it’s a fine showcase for McPhee’s lovely songs, Bachand’s lead performance, and the assured direction of Kretchmar.

For anyone who’s been on an indie film set, Fell, Jumped or Pushed is deeply relatable, and very funny.

There's something about the neon-tinted, sugar-smacked highs of Trolls that can be bizarrely infectious. When it's weirder, it's better, and there are elements of the animation design seemingly inspired by old 1970s cartoons and children's shows like "H.R. Pufnstuf."

"Wereskunk” only wavers when it slips from the style of the era, with the usage of digital special effects or the odd modern reference. When it stays in the unique lane it’s established for itself, it’s plenty of silly retro fun.

Jack’s Apocalypse is unable to convey any realistic stakes or authenticity in its story line.

The frenetic, ad-hoc aesthetic of the visuals complements the shaggy dog brilliance of Oasis.

Courier-X is so inscrutable and tediously boring that it will test the patience of even the most tenacious truther.

Galifianakis steals the show as the friendly fussbudget in a performance we've come to expect from him. The enormous potential on screen is tantalizing, which is why the disappointment of failed execution stings.

For a horror sequel built around a foundation of genre trends, Ouija: Origin of Evil contains far more goofy-spooky fun than one might expect.

Jaye never gets to her original question about rape culture, and ultimately twists herself in knots to justify the movement’s misogynist rhetoric.

Unfortunately, the cast and a few sweet tunes by Armstrong are the only things going for this delayed coming-of-age dramedy.

Desierto is a generic thriller that happens to be wrapped in political packaging. That packaging is sometimes more interesting than the thrills themselves, but the film is bare enough to project what you want onto it.

Hart's turn as 0054 is both a fun riff on the genre and a statement that Hart doesn't need to ask for permission to be Bond — because he can do whatever he wants.

It's a fun, rebellious romp that celebrates creativity and outside-the-box thinking, though parents might hope that their children won't be too inspired to copy the elaborate pranks that these characters pull off.

The best part of Dependent’s Day is the rapid-fire, easy-breezy banter between Burke and Robledo — their connection is palpable, and feels comfortable and lived in.

While The Greasy Strangler eventually becomes tiresome in its relentless repellence, it’s just so odd it deserves to be lauded for simply existing.

There are a few story threads left hanging, but ultimately, the film is a thoughtful rumination on the far-reaching tentacles of grief, and the crucial importance of asserting humanity that persists in the face of devastation.

The obvious exposition, tortured dialogue and shoddy special effects just make you wish you were watching something else.

It’s a warm, uplifting portrait of the potentials to be found in startup culture, but feels blinkered by its specific focus.

The cast is stocked with some of comedy’s best actors, which elevates the rather pedestrian material.

Masterminds still has its riotously funny moments, thanks to the fearless, uninhibited actors and a director who lets them play.

There are a few times when a viewer less familiar with this world can feel a bit out of place, though it is possible for anyone to find amusement in this winsome if slight film.

It’s a maddening but ultimately uplifting tale about a fearless woman who fought tirelessly for her people.

The beguiling documentary Chicken People proves that truth is not only stranger than fiction, but often more poignant and illuminating as well.

Storks is at times cacophonous and overly busy, and the animation tends toward the goofily humorous rather than the spectacular. However, Stoller manages to pull off a third act and emotional resolution that's genuinely moving.

This odd friendship dramedy has its winning moments, thanks to a fine cast, including Eric Roberts and Marguerite Moreau, and a bold visual design that underlines the quirky and fantastical tone.

The ambitious but unwieldy screenplay suffers from a lack of cohesion and loses control of the nonlinear memories and fantasies of seven people, with some of the characters’ motivations also lost in the shuffle.

It’s just a listless, routine exercise in religious horror, infused with a whiff of the exotic that tends toward the xenophobic. There might be a shred of entertainment to be found if only it were worse.

Zellweger plays Bridget just as charmingly as she always has -- flawed but endearing; just right in her own idiosyncratic way.

The script telegraphs things, but also often descends into incoherence. It tries to be too many things at once, and ends up being nothing.

Brother Nature has its amusing moments, providing a showcase that tends toward the formulaic and predictable.

The moments between mother and son are some of the most intimate and moving of the film.