Ken Jaworowski

Because of its shortcomings, (T)error serves as evidence of a broken system rather than an indictment of it. Yet such evidence is worrisome and points to a threat to civil rights.

Over-narrated and self-serious, this documentary allows its good intentions to pave the way to a tepid tale.

This is a film unafraid to look at [Burden's] acts, but timid when approaching his ideas.

If you can look past the low-grade production values — and to do that you’ll need two awfully forgiving eyes — Reinventing Rosalee delivers a few rewards, thanks to its vibrant subject and her noteworthy life.

As its energetic early scenes give way to a sluggish second half, you start to sense how much better this good-enough movie might have been.

While this worthy film sidesteps clichés — there are no horrid flashbacks or emotional speeches — its spareness occasionally feels planned rather than spontaneous. After a powerful first half, later scenes offer diminishing returns.

The trouble with the movie — and it’s significant — is that Mr. Saleh is so keen to survey Egypt’s dysfunction that his pacing wanes. It’s possible to admire each scene and still see this film, in its entirety, as in need of some serious sharpening.

The obvious problem with its subject-says-all approach is the lack of outside voices and perspective. This is a broad summation of the man, not a critical look at his policies.

By making you feel deeply for his sister and her children, Valdez has fashioned his film to make the lapses less glaring.

Ms. Meeropol is steadfast in providing both sides of the story. That’s admirable, yet it can come across as uninvolving.

A haunting first half can’t offset the absurd ending of I Think We’re Alone Now, a post-apocalyptic tale with a late plot twist that feels as if it comes out of left field. And right field. And center field, the stands and the dugout, too.

Heavy with emotion yet light on information, 500 Years has the curious effect of being both passionate and pale. You may find yourself championing its subjects even while feeling confounded by the omission of details by its filmmaker.

This is a film too enamored of its subject to pry very deeply. And yet, it’s hard not to be enamored as well, as Pavarotti’s larger-than-life personality shines in almost every scene.

Trainin’s film spends a good deal of its running time surveying the emotions that affect everyone here, including the Tsuk children. Yet there’s quite a bit left unexplored; after the start, the director rarely returns to examine Amit’s past or seek insights into Amit’s inner self.

Lynskey and Schloss are well matched as mother and daughter, and Griffiths builds a relationship between them as this far-from-innocent teenager navigates her world. That rough journey is worth watching even when this film falls short.

The Absent One finds Mr. Kaas as watchable as before, though a few well-intentioned attempts to lighten up his character — an orphaned cat is brought in, a speech about his motivations is given — are clumsily executed, and instead divert from his terse and magnetic personality.

Call Her Ganda (“ganda” means “beautiful” in Tagalog) remains commendable for its focus on the case, and for its insistence that the crime against Ms. Laude not be forgotten.

The Most Unknown works best as inspiration to delve deeper into these disciplines, and as a celebration of science. And when the film comes up short, it still functions like an intriguing experiment: It doesn’t have to be entirely successful for you to learn something.

For a movie that promises an “epic journey” to explore a family’s “long-buried suffering,” it’s strangely unsatisfying, and eventually wearisome, to find that this clan is deeply troubled perhaps only in the eyes of its filmmaker.

Bikini Moon is better in separate scenes than as a whole, where Manchevski’s overreaches and plot lapses become more glaring. In this film, the harshest truths — make that “truths” — are best served in small doses.

Chasing Portraits is small and subtle, with some missed opportunities and occasionally inexpert filmmaking. But it’s not an insignificant effort, and Ms. Rynecki’s cause is admirable.

Mr. Fessenden’s ambition is admirable, and there’s more than a little raw skill on display. If this, his first feature, isn’t always worth recommending, his talents are certainly worth encouraging.

Rock in the Red Zone has its best moments when it explores the anxiety of Sderot’s residents and their endurance. It’s the strongest topic here, and the one you’re most sorry to see interrupted when the film inevitably switches over to something else.

Everything’s in service of the images in Bridgend, a stylishly shot, eerily scored and moodily acted film that wants for nothing but a plot. Depending on how you like your movies, this is either a walkout or a must-see.

It was a prescient plan. Mr. Stern, a longtime Democrat, vowed to listen closely, and he seems to have kept his word. Though he doesn’t mask his expressions — usually astounded, though never mocking — he’s a genial interviewer, empathic, he says, even if he can’t be sympathetic.

Enigmatic to an extreme, the documentary Bobbi Jene may interest viewers who are well versed in contemporary dance. All others are on their own.

A head-scratcher that ends with a shoulder-shrug, An Ordinary Man feels like a scene-study exercise in which two actors invest full measures in a script that’s only half finished.

Asif Kapadia, the director (whose film “Amy” won an Oscar for best documentary), has a fine eye for splendor, as does Gokhan Tiryaki, his cinematographer. Mr. Kapadia’s sense of pacing isn’t as acute.