Mike Scott

Still, built as it is around big, dazzling action sequences and a terrific cast — which in addition to the charismatic Mackie includes Harrison Ford and Tim Blake Nelson — “Brave New World” still manages to scratch the “Avengers” itch.

The sheer depth of emotion at work in “Nickel Boys” — the palpable anguish, the infuriating injustice, the heartrending loss — more than compensates for any perceived stylistic flaws.

That is the kind of celebrity travelogue we could use more of — because, unlike many of its predecessors, this is a trip worth taking.

[Pierre] owns the role so fully that it’s hard to imagine anyone else in it.

In the context of COVID, Slingshot becomes something else, transforming from what would have been a decent but derivative sci-fi thinker into a stirring ode to the vital importance of others.

Does his film fishtail around narratively? Does it feel overly episodic? Does it lack any sort of stick-to-the-ribs substance? In order: Yes, probably and for sure. But it is also a fun and enjoyable summertime diversion, and sometimes that’s all the message a movie needs.

Fueled by driving beats, irreverent humor and stylish direction from first-timer Rich Peppiatt, it plays like an edgier, modern-day answer to 1991’s similarly rousing “The Commitments,” just with Irish-language rap standing in for American R&B.

It is, in short, a fun, diverting ride — which, come to think of it, probably doesn’t really need context at all.

What we end up with is a rare treat: a midbudget movie for grown-ups — no capes, no magic wands, no kid’s stuff. In other words: pure Linklater.

It’s early yet, but “Challengers” is already among the best films of the year so far.

Messages, metaphors and micturation aside, the journey is the thing, and in this case, “Sasquatch Sunset” is a pretty good journey — and thus a pretty good thing.

So, while “Orion and the Dark” is on one hand a fun and briskly paced fantasy-adventure, it also functions nicely as a smart, thoughtful and often trippy exploration of existential dread.

It is not uplifting and only marginally inspiring — and even then only as an ode to the amount of pain the human heart can endure. But in the sensitive hands of writer-director Sean Durkin (“Martha Marcy May Marlene”), it is also a well-told, smartly crafted story that can stake a realistic claim to being one of the more moving and compelling sports dramas in recent memory.

Admittedly, it won’t likely supplant 1971’s “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” in many people’s hearts as the definitive cinematic adaptation of Dahl’s “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” Still, it is a delight in its own right, a sweet, funny, colorful and suitably wondrous burst of family-friendliness.

It is strange. It is stylish. It is at once daring, funny, beautiful and surreal.

No one should mistake Scott’s Napoleon as an overtly political film. It’s true ambitions are to entertain and inform, in that order.

It goes down far more easily than the budget-friendly tripe so often passed off as a romantic comedy here in the streaming era.

It doesn’t talk down to its young audience or hold up its teenage characters’ perceived imperfections for ridicule. Rather, as Hughes’ movies were so good at doing, Bottoms meets its viewers on their level, connecting with them and laughing with them about the absurdity of the modern adolescent experience.

And while Simien’s “Haunted Mansion” might not entirely bury the memory of its predecessor, it sure throws a few shovels full of dirt on its grave.

A morality play, this is not. What it is, though, is a sturdy bit of the kind of well-formed, well-conceived regional cinema we don’t seem to get enough of anymore.

Between its penchant for melodrama and an absolute lack of warmth, The Lesson isn’t the kind of film that will connect with many viewers in a way that sticks to their ribs much longer than the closing credits. Still, between the work of its expert cast and Troughton’s well-played surprises, there’s enough there to make it a sturdy-enough, diverting enough bit of blockbuster-season counterprogramming.

This is the kind of movie that makes you want to sit through the credits, and not for some “hidden” scene featuring superheroes eating shawarma. Rather, it’s because it’s so pleasant you won’t want It Ain’t Over to be over.

It’s a lot of things, but Master Gardener is first and foremost a Paul Schrader film, and a Paul Schrader film can usually be counted on to deliver one thing above all else: a moody story about a tough man, adrift, who is thrust into a tough situation.

As character studies go, Monica is an especially timely one, determined to contribute to the current conversation about acceptance and understanding. At the same time, beneath it all lies a more universal concept.

For a movie about the value of memories, it won’t go down as particularly memorable. Ten or 15 years ago, its visual effects might have been something approaching stunning. Today, they — like the dialogue, the pacing and pretty much every other element of the film — are only just good enough to allow audiences to suspend their disbelief.

Blending old-school practical effects with computer-enhanced explosions of blood and viscera, Renfield tips its cap to the past without being overly reverential to it. Add in frequent outbursts of meticulously choreographed action sequences, and we end up with a film that is more fun than frightening.

A big-budget crowd-pleaser that avoids the pitfall of taking itself too seriously, it is well-cast, well-crafted and just plain fun, an old-school spectacle that makes a compelling case for sitting in the dark with a hundred or more strangers and just enjoying the show.

As outrageous and fun as Babylon can be, it feels even more self-indulgent than happy hour on Mardi Gras. Granted, excess is the point of it all. Even the film’s running time, at a bladder-busting 3 hours 9 minutes, tests limits. Making matters worse is that for most of the film’s first half, it’s all setting and no story. And, yet, I think I love it.