Katie Walsh

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

The off-kilter, colorful, cartoonish fantasy of Serenity is just so odd and appealing that you want to spend time with the characters, aboard this ship, among the people of Plymouth in this crazy, upside-down world.

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

The material is breezy and amusing with a few piercing moments of emotional truth, but the tone never quite feels right for the issue at hand. There’s a tendency to rely on incredibly hacky material, like extended bits about the complexities of sperm collection and well-trodden jokes about alternative healers.

The greatest appeal of The Girl King lies in the fascinating historical character and the formidable actress portraying her.

Like its predecessor, this film is noisy, fast and unrelenting — not one you watch so much as allow to lightly steamroll your senses. At least that’s a fairly swift and amusing enough process.

The dour environment doesn’t help, the humor doesn’t pop and, disappointingly, the scares just don’t land. There are a few jumps and bumps, but there’s no real sense of dread or unease or questioning.

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

Cusack puts in work as Paul, an old-fashioned hero. But he seems miscast and can't quite modulate the levels of camp in his performance.

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

It wants to comment on the algorithms that rule our lives, spewing constantly recycled content at us seemingly at random, but it is exactly the thing that it points to: an upcycled Frankenstein’s monster of intellectual property spraying a stew of Easter eggs and Halloween costumes at the viewer, praying that something sticks.

The strength of Goodbye World is that it understands the foibles of these characters and lets them be as flawed as they are while they are also trying to survive not just the apocalypse but each other.

Criminal feels like the kind of high-concept, unapologetically preposterous action movies of the heyday in the '80s and '90s. If that's your thing, it's a hoot.

Oyelowo and Mara's riveting, embodied performances rise above the material.

The story is thin and merely serviceable at best, and it often feels like the film has barely been written.

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 Wild Life is a family-friendly take on the story of Crusoe, with a twist, and kids no doubt will be drawn to the colorful animal characters, but there's a lack of emotional connection that makes the film just another cartoon flick, not a special favorite or animated classic.

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

The film is ponderous, the performances mostly subdued.

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

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

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.

For all of the manic anti-authoritarian energy that Knoxville and pals generate in Action Point, it’s not directed at anything, which renders it meaningless and leaves the film to fizzle out like a deflated balloon.

It's just a devastatingly sad and terrible story about two brothers who make bad choices, suffer the consequences and lose the last shreds of family they have left. No amount of 11th hour twists, reveals or bigger ideas can shake that inescapable feeling of dread and sorrow.

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

Every time Charlize Theron is on screen, the movie gets crazy campy, and therefore at least somewhat interesting.

Levi plays Scott as somewhat smarmy and disingenuous — it’s hard to feel for this guy when he seems absolutely clueless about his own kids. Fahy carries the film in her supporting role, an acting imbalance that seems weirdly apt for this story: the supportive, capable wife sidelined in favor of showcasing the inept husband getting himself together and presenting it as meaningful or poignant.

It's a mess, but wow, is it ever a fun, fascinating mess. Those are always so much more thrilling than any of the formulaic superhero movies that parade through multiplexes all year.

Argylle has bone-deep structural issues on a fundamental level, but it is also a failure of directorial execution from top to bottom, resulting in what has to be one of the most expensive worst movies ever made. It’s honestly fascinating — something that should be studied in a lab.

The Hustle nods to its predecessors and feels at times like “To Catch a Thief” meets “Absolutely Fabulous.” But what makes “The Hustle” work is its stars.

The film undeniably captures the breathtaking and unique landscape of coastal Western Australia. It's an incredibly beautiful film, but it's a challenge to emotionally connect to it. It feels like the outline of what would have been an epic novel, but in the translation to the screen, it has lost its interiority, and anything profound it might have communicated.

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.

It may not work for everyone, but those for whom it works will find much to savor and puzzle over in The Turning.

It's a shame that what could have been an intriguing situational thriller devolves into a hateful, arduous drag

It’s So Easy suffers from an approach that leans more on telling than showing, and we just have to take his word for it that his life’s events are that fascinating.

Aside from the obviously unintentional humor, the quality of Kraven the Hunter is severely lacking. Perhaps that’s all the recommendation you need for some dumb fun at the movies.

Scream 7 is an unfortunate tarnish on this otherwise sturdy franchise’s legacy.

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

The premise still feels too thin and juvenile to grab audiences of any age. So what algorithm decided this movie would be a lucrative endeavor?

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.

Red One is a confounding project that is clearly trying to be for all audiences (it’s weirdly kiddie-oriented, but feels more aimed at adults) and is so bad it ends up being for none.

There is some excellent location-shooting in downtown Los Angeles during the climax, seen through the lens of a bodycam or quadcopter or drone camera. It’s not enough to save the aesthetic of the entire film, though, which is somehow both gray and nauseating.

The real problem is that there isn't enough whimsy in the world to save this unengaging story.

Ergüven's vision is a wild, melodramatic journey that offers no answers or insights, and by the end it only leaves one feeling, well, completely flabbergasted.

"Collision Course” is simply a perfunctory, watered-down entry in the series that feels like it should have been released on home video.

The luminous Garrett shines as Brenda, emerging from her shell. Hauptman manages to sand down David's spiky edges. The supporting characters, unfortunately, are two-dimensional and less charismatic.

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.

Heartstring-tugging if a bit humorless.

If there’s one word to describe the girl-power comedy “Like a Boss,” it’s incomprehensible. Structurally, industrially, philosophically and emotionally incomprehensible. What should have been an easy breezy buddy comedy is rather a flabbergasting tone salad.

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.

There isn't enough mystery and ambiguity around the murders to create a sense of fear or dread, yet there's something rather effectively creepy and compelling, with its retro thrills and chills

Stuck in this largely infantilized role, Cowen imbues Angel with as much verve and spunk as she can; she’s often funnier and darker than necessary, offering a refreshing dash of acid to temper the sickly sweetness.

Writer-director Anders Morgenthaler's conclusion comes far too hastily and haphazardly, with a disregard for plot details or plausible storytelling.

Proceed with caution to "Warcraft," but there is entertainment to be found here. It's certainly more absorbing than the lazily assembled "Alice Through the Looking Glass," because Jones' exertion and drive behind the film is palpable, if a bit sweaty.

It’s a color-by-numbers thriller that’s flat.

Every character is merely a stereotype or symbol, not a fully-fleshed out person. Indeed, one has to wonder what every actor, including Monaghan, is doing in this flimsily written psychological thriller, but perhaps, that question isn’t even worth the speculation.

While it plays fast and loose with loaded political iconography, this Robin Hood brings a whole new dimension to this age-old tale.

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.

Stylistically, Acrimony has moments of genius — slow camera movements that push in on Melinda, emphasizing Henson’s performance and the building pressure — but it’s also hilariously cheesy, and slightly chintzy, which adds to its schmaltzy charm.

Some may enjoy the cacophonous, raunchy, lowest-common-denominator dreck that The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard has to offer. To those I say, godspeed. But it’s undeniable that the actors, the audiences and the filmmakers all deserve better.

The plot proceeds at a punishing clip but there’s a tediousness to the proceedings, even at a rather tight 97 minutes, because no dramatic weight is given to anything that unfolds.

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."

An exceedingly mild affair, The Last Laugh relies mightily on Dreyfuss’ warm charm to keep the journey rolling.

Though the film is formulaic and somewhat annoyingly energetic, it’s cute and irreverent enough, and manages to bridge the generation gap, offering up a kid-friendly flick that can keep adults somewhat entertained for the duration, proving that even after all these years, Garfield’s still got it.

The Road Within suffers from midfilm wandering and a hasty ending, but the message of self-acceptance rings true and clear.

With this noisy, fast, chaotic "Hellboy," Marshall is at his most cheeky and most unhinged. It's certainly… a lot.

No amount of star power can save the script by Brad Desche.

The whole thing is a wild concept, hinging on the plausibility of every character's motivations, which are all a bit squishy.

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

God Bless the Broken Road is a strange Frankenstein's monster of a film, trying to combine too many ill-fitting story elements while straining to incorporate the title of a popular country song.

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.

The whole endeavor is a naked attempt to cash in on the young adult fantasy trend spearheaded by "Harry Potter." There have been many attempts to snatch the Potter crown (and purse) but Artemis Fowl will not be the hot new kiddie fantasy franchise, based on this utterly charmless first entry.

Johnson-McGoldrick’s facility with both the tropes of the "Conjuring" films, and the Warren’s relationship, keeps the film swift and emotionally resonant, while Chaves pushes the cinematic aesthetic to the max.

The action is messy, the geography indiscernible, and a few shots seem stitched together with but a single pixel and a prayer.

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.

Mad Women is punishingly dull and apparently aimless, without any real conflict driving the story, just confounding and ridiculous interactions among the characters.

Birke's script is plainly straightforward, a simple supernatural chase story. It doesn't plumb the depths of what might make Slender Man scary, so Slender Man isn't scary at all.

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

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.

It is a fine, if lightweight, little slice of throwback-’80s teen movie tropes with some high-tech flair.

The emotions about the complicated relationships between mothers and daughters are spot on, and there’s no shortage of star power. But there’s an insistently dour fog over the proceedings, and the film feels subdued and sedated without the levity to brighten up things.

While it's fun to watch Garner return to her action roots, the brute force haymaker that is Peppermint is a far cry from the sophisticated thrills of "Alias."

While its heart is in the right place, Welcome to Happiness is too fixated on its twee peccadilloes to truly succeed.

The whole film is a bizarre exercise in fantasy-building on a budget, from the computer-generated sets to the over-long, predictable story.

From a storytelling perspective, the obsession with guns in a movie aimed at children is troubling, in poor taste and is lazy writing to boot.

Pine’s Poolman is sort of the physical, emotional and spiritual embodiment of Los Angeles itself: earnest, silly and a little (or a lot) ridiculous, but insistently charming if you decide to surrender to the experience.

While Silencio could be fascinating sci-fi, it’s bogged down in all the family drama.

The Lost Girls gets stuck somewhere in the middle of magical realism and a gritty psychological exploration of what it means to believe in Peter and still live in the real world.

Despite an energetic supporting cast, including Martin, Alyssa Milano, Danny Aiello and Garry Basaraba, the two leads sleepwalk through this limp and formulaic endeavor.

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

There are a few stirring moments, but it never seems authentic or real, just a bizarrely staged re-creation.

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

Despite the best efforts of McCarthy, and a winsome Maya Rudolph as Phil’s 1940s-style secretary, Bubbles, The Happytime Murders is more like the “Boringtime Slog.”

Do little? They could not have done less. The only appropriate adjective for this Dolittle is “hasty.” Everything feels slapdash and half-rendered; the plot proceeds in a fashion that could be described only as perfunctory. Everyone on screen seems to be in a stumbling daze, especially Downey as the frazzle-dazzled doctor.

Is Madame Web a good movie? No. Is it hilariously delightful? Often.

Any trenchant observations to be found in this Blithe Spirit only pop and fizz into thin air like Champagne bubbles. Though effervescent, it’s a bit too ethereal for its own good.

Freelance is this incredibly goofy jumble of tones, a movie that doesn’t know what it is or what it wants to be, flailing about as it far overstays its welcome.

Rambo lumbers to the finish line in the flaccid fifth installment, which is a Frankenstein’s monster of badly photocopied references to the previous movies, limply strung together with the laziest of screenplays.

it is a boring paint-by-numbers ghost movie, a jumble of tropes borrowed from movies like “The Ring,” and a poor facsimile of its influences.

Writer-director James Bird took inspiration from real-life experiences, and the story is obviously heartfelt. But despite a stylized, edgy surface, Honeyglue doesn’t stray from the well-worn weepy narrative.

As over-the-top operatic and inexplicable as Dawn Patrol can be, producer and star Eastwood remains captivating and charismatic, ultimately serving as a grounding element within the swirl of emotional drama and almost saving the film from going overboard.

Fickman’s directing is uninspired at best, barely competent at worst. The framing and composition is dire; there’s no sense of rhythm or flow, and characters constantly appear and disappear at random. But it’s the writing that truly fails the film and characters.

The climax is overwrought and cheesy, which doesn't match with the quiet dignity of the Inuit man. He carries a profound and sage warning, but Chloe and Theo just isn't the right dramatic package.

Collateral Beauty is much more shallow nonsense than anything else.

A jumbled nonsensical mess.

There’s enough weirdness for Yoga Hosers to possibly generate some stoner cult appeal, but it’s shoddily slapped together, with a clearly first-draft script, terrible editing (by Smith the elder) and continuity errors.

Not only is not even a single character more than one-dimensional, but every line falls flatter than a witch dispatched with a Gatling gun.

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."

There’s not a thrill to be found in this ostensible thriller, a rote kidnapping exercise taped together with digital blood spatter and an overly dramatic score, vaguely gesturing at global crises from five years ago.

The film's musings on artists and muses tries to be deep but gets bogged down in tiresome booze-soaked mind games.

The whole thing has a very seedy, late-night cable feel, which is where you should catch this film — and only if you’re a die-hard UFC fan.

Bright spots are found in the supporting cast.... They just are not enough to pull "Dirty Grandpa" out of its ill-conceived and poorly executed gutter.

The worst thing about Life Itself is not that it is emotionally sadistic. It's just how much it wants to be emotionally sadistic, while missing the mark by a mile.

All in all, just another boring genre exercise.

As Replicas races headlong toward its conclusion, the filmmakers manage to avoid every potentially interesting choice for far dumber, and far more inexplicable, conclusions.

Mother's Day is a total mess, but what's truly offensive is that they didn't even try to make this cynical, post-Sunday brunch cash grab even remotely watchable. Your mom deserves so much better this Mother's Day. Go see "The Meddler" instead.

Everything about this movie seems ripped from the ’80s, including the woefully sexist gender politics. But that’s only one of many reasons that this B-movie dreck should have stayed underwater.

The salt in the wound of this painfully out-of-touch film is the footage of real L.A. homeless camps and people, as if the film were saying something trenchant about the issue. What a gross misunderstanding of this glib story about a rich man who steals stories and inspiration from struggling people.

James Franco’s Pretenders begs the question: is this a film about bohemian artists or a parody of a film about bohemian artists? Because if we’re supposed to take this laughably trite and sexist claptrap seriously, one has to laugh.

The Emoji Movie could not be more meh.

Often, trying too hard to be edgy sails right past offensive and just hits boring. Sherman, amazingly, manages to nail both.

The most disappointing thing is that Nine Lives doesn’t even dare to be an audacious mess. It’s a Frankenstein’s monster of Hollywood’s worst instincts, a movie made with a math formula where its vision should have been.

Sundown is a distressingly sexist and tone-deaf spring break sex comedy cobbled together from references to other classic party films and sounds as though it was written by aliens approximating teen speak.

Regardless of whether this is a film you can handle, it’s a perfect example of the kind of bold new vision that cinephiles should be championing.

What could have been a taut and tense thriller is ankled by the inert characters, clunky screenplay and nonexistent back story.

What really hampers Miles to Go is its aimless wandering. Many things could be forgiven with some growth or movement in the journey, but ultimately, this one just ends up running in circles.

Breaking Through is curiously low-energy, riddled with hackneyed plot devices and weighed down by choreography that doesn't come close to what you'd see on network reality shows.

Unfortunately, A Reason doesn't have enough story to justify its running time of nearly two hours, and though the performers are skilled, the melodramatic score and deliberate pace result in a piece that is overwrought but underdone.

The film can feel like an infomercial for the foundation, but that doesn't stop the power of the stories from coming through.

Unexpected and charming, “Manson Family Vacation” is one ride you’ll want to catch.

Despite what the film might want us to believe, if he walks, talks and acts like a selfish, predatory creep, he is, and there's just no sympathizing with him.

The ideas are not deep enough and the dramatic tension isn't real enough to sustain this feature.

At its heart, it's a simple story about a family gathering around a loved one, but there's too much going on narratively and stylistically.

Writer-director Luke Sabis brings some interesting ideas to the well-known genre, exploring the nuances of abuse, spirituality and redemption. Unfortunately, the low-budget execution shows on screen, with a dim and dismal look, and the energy is decidedly lethargic.

The film may deliver an all-too-neat resolution, but the haunting reminder that your past is never far away lingers.

Rather than stooping to horror-genre antics, Mallhi weaves a tale that is spooky but sensitive and focused on interpersonal relationships between mothers and daughters.

The tone is wildly inconsistent, particularly with plucky, lighthearted music accompaniment scoring what is essentially a teen crime spree.

Though the craft is exceptional, there are some storytelling missteps.

The cinematography, by David J. Myrick, is lovely and luminous, but the story itself lacks insight or deep emotion.

It’s appropriate that the Natural Born Pranksters take their name from the film “Natural Born Killers,” because this group of YouTube stars just murdered prank-based humor. RIP pranks.

An effective and unsettling neuro-psychological thriller, They Look Like People creates a creepily mundane sense of dread in its depictions of a schizophrenic's paranoid delusions.

About Scout is a fantasy of escape rooted in the harshly lit realities of life.

The Dog Wedding is rather a minor effort, and the amateurish acting of the supporting cast and stilted energy are hard to forgive.

No Letting Go has all the subtlety of an after-school special, and the performances feel like they're from a public service announcement about mental illness.

Rosenmeyer and Shaw have an easy charm and chemistry together, but the been-there, done-that material doesn't match their talents.

Barton is a standout as the alluring, broken young woman who hides as much as she reveals.

Despite its best efforts to be thought-provoking, the film is dramatically inert, slow and its revelations aren’t all that politically illuminating, relying on coincidence and worn tropes to obfuscate its lack of ingenuity.

There truly is no business like show business, and Ovation perfectly captures that.

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.

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

The cryptic and mysterious story is crammed with overwrought issues — cancer, divorce, fraud, war — which the characters then over-explain.

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.

It’s thematically rich, and confidently directed with a clear point of view, set against a backdrop of relevant socioeconomic and cultural issues. But it’s also a deeply relatable and affecting depiction of the heedless beauty of a first love.

It feels more like the sketch of an idea than a fully realized film, and it ends on a note that seems it should be the beginning or middle of the story, not the end.

The film is more mood and aesthetic than anything else, and it nails the fictionalized, aspirational high school look — down to the actors who appear to be in their mid-to-late 20s playing 18-year-olds.

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.

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

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.

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 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.

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

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

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.

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

"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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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 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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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 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.

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.

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.

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

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.

Jacobs simply can’t make any of it work.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

’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.”

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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

Counterfeiters is an amateurish first film, with inexperienced actors, clunky writing and a homemade ambiance. But the ambition and moments of inspired style are be lauded.

While A Nightmare in Las Vegas is sometimes rough around the edges, it's intensely compelling and isn't afraid to demand answers to questions that seem to have gone unasked. In many ways, it's a first step in processing the enormity of this event.

This crime spree may have style to spare, but that's about all that's holding it together.

Though Debs is a legendary and influential character, the style of "American Socialist" fails to come to life.

A great cast cannot save the dramatically inert and totally inept rom-com "Alex & The List," which is short on both the rom and the com.

Anecdotes and photos bring the golden age of Catch One to life, with a lively disco soundtrack and Thais-Williams' font of fascinating stories. But the film itself could use a more rigorous structure as it wanders from anecdote to anecdote and era to era.

This high-concept tale works because of the two leads' charisma and chemistry. Tong is a star, and the role asks her to display her full range. Lei makes a great unlikely romantic hero.

Despite its frustrating lack of narrative cohesion, there’s something intoxicating about the vibe of Poor Boy. It’s a world you want to explore more, and Pucci’s Romeo is a character worth falling in love with.

In a state fighting the scourge of opiate addiction, Sheldon presents Jacob’s Ladder as a bright light, building a recovery community on the values of love, compassion and understanding.

Hope Springs Eternal is fine as a leading role for Frampton, who has had small supporting roles in bigger projects such as “Bridesmaids,” but her star power far exceeds the boundaries of this limited project.

Though many of the character shifts and story beats are facile, Shine achieves its goal of presenting music and dance as love, connection, family and important forces for maintaining culture throughout the inevitability of urban gentrification.

The story is wildly melodramatic, the execution amateurish, and the line readings from the supporting cast are stilted at best. Traicos is campy and compelling as the gleefully unhinged Jackie, but she’s the only interesting thing in an otherwise dull film.

Dead Envy is interesting for the way it plays off of Di Nardo’s backstory, but this lightweight stalker-thriller doesn’t deliver much else.

A meandering, pointless and boring rumination on substances and those who love to abuse them.

While the outlook often seems bleak, the message is to take the future into our own hands — to change our behavior and change the world.

While the film seeks to put Antonio’s name on the same level as the boldfaced names he rubbed elbows with, it is a stark, sorrowful reminder of the many artistic geniuses cut down in their prime by AIDS.

While Alright Now threatens to spin off its foundations with all of its crazy, loose energy, the central relationship keeps the story on track.

Leyser’s film is an important document capturing the influence of queercore, an underground movement that enjoys life on the fringes, where identifying as an anti-establishment “arty weirdo” is just as important as sexuality.

The story veers off track, and Rokesh can’t cleanly execute the wild tonal shifts and haphazard story beats.

Unfortunately, in Love Jacked, Anderson brings the heat, while West is barely present, unable to keep the necessary chemistry crackling.

Where Maine ultimately goes is a little off the map, but the mysterious emotional journey is nevertheless fascinating.

The script has a certain memoiristic quality that would edge into self-indulgence if McGhee and Stonebraker weren’t such warm and disarming presences on screen.

The overwrought script is full of dusty old clichés like this, and Mullins and Co. don’t have the chops to sell them. The supporting cast offers wooden line readings, while Mullins is an uncharismatic performer, with a range that extends from dead-eyed to high-pitched yelling.

There’s a sense of dread as the film wraps up, knowing where the real-life story ended, and it’s increasingly out of step with the rosy picture painted by Tsikurishvili. Is he compelled to update the film or leave us with an image of Bergling in his freest moment? Ultimately, it feels like only part of the story, and therefore not entirely true.

Experimental, yes, but this one wildly overstays its welcome.

Heartlock is a daring and well-acted drama that can’t quite get the timing right.

Chokehold provides a poorly written and terribly acted framework as a thin context for the action.

There are grief dramas, and there are wacky family comedies, and there are films about charming screw-ups, but the degree of difficulty for one film to pull off all three at once is incredibly high. The disjointed “Pretty Broken,” written by Jill Remesnyder and directed by Brett Eichenberger, doesn’t clear the bar.

This film deserves attention for tackling an aspect of the transgender experience that is not often seen on screen, and though it laudably casts a transgender actress, the story is framed through the perspective of a straight cis-woman, Alyssa. Something tells me it would have been much more interesting, and less narratively tortured, as seen through the eyes of Eve.

The darkest moments are depicted in rapid-fire montage, and as audience members, we never get a sense of the characters’ true anguish and pain. But this family drug drama isn’t typical, instead crafting an experience that is hushed, poetic and intimate.

There are moments when it feels aimless, incorporating new story lines about the current administration and deportation deep into the running time. But in simply observing this courtroom and the affect it has on lives, the film is deeply moving and quietly revolutionary.

Star Fryogeni, who bears a striking resemblance to Frances McDormand, appears in almost every shot, and she carries the film with a bravura performance of a woman at her wit’s end.

While Moop might appeal to the Burning Man die-hard set, or for aficionados of the tales of doomed, Sisyphean film productions, beyond that, it’s not much more than a minor curio.

Swezey’s film is a historical record of this short-lived time and this singularly L.A. scene.

A finely observed documentary.

Though the narrative could use more structural integrity, Zollo, and her daring lead actress, Duke, create a courageously personal, experimental piece, tapping into a raw emotional state not often rendered on screen with such depth and intelligence.

This contemplative film is beautifully shot, set in a stunning landscape surrounded by fog and greenery and ancient stone steps. But it’s Yao’s soulful and stirring performance as a complex woman struggling to understand herself — and life itself — that anchors Send Me to the Clouds, allowing it to truly soar.

While Scared of Revolution offers intimacy with Umar, it is otherwise unmoored from the important cultural history it could have been.

This riveting documentary should be required viewing for all.

The film poses half-formed thoughts about femininity through the lens of nationality, immigration, work, creativity and money, but ultimately the only profound thing it manages to say is on the nature of exploitation between subject and author. A fascinating albeit frustrating sketch on the topic.

Block Party is a lightweight comedy that frustrates because there’s the potential for it to be great, to resonate beyond its blandly formulaic charms.

Deadliest of all, Fear is just not scary. The jump scares don’t land, the fears themselves are all a bit silly and it feels like Taylor is holding back for the majority of the run time.

The premise of My Happy Ending is somewhat slight, but there’s nothing insubstantial about a woman coming to a profound realization about her life thanks to a surprising encounter with unexpected new allies.