Mike Scott

Visually stunning.

Yes, there are higher-profile films out there this year, and there are films with more resonant messages. But there are few that include so many captivating performances in such an involving story.

The violence in Homefront is violence purely for entertainment's sake.

Most normal people will not see this as a "pleasant" film -- I hope that's the case, anyway -- but it certain makes you feel something.

The real highlight, though, is the music by Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez.

Along the way, Krokidas' story becomes a touch schizophrenic, at times a coming-of-age story, a love story, a crime drama and a literary drama. It's hard to say which it functions as best, as none are given too much time to germinate before Krokidas moves on to the next.

McConaughey and Leto's performances are also the saviors of Vallee's film, which has a way of belaboring certain points and, in the process, robbing his film of no small amount of momentum.

As a modest bit of feel-good entertainment, Vaughn and Delivery Man mostly deliver the goods.

To be fair, in its best moments, The Best Man Holiday is more enjoyable than even a well-wrapped steam iron, functioning as it does as passable light entertainment -- but only just.

In a word: Bibbidi-bobbidi-blah.

Maybe it's a touch twee, but Curtis' film is far too uplifting, too life-affirming and too good-natured to do anything but embrace.

None of that is to say that Thor: The Dark World is a bad movie, necessarily. I would never speak ill of a man with a giant, magical hammer. At the same time, hammer or no hammer, it doesn't quite nail it, either.

In the final analysis, that's the real endgame here: to get people into theaters and build a film franchise. For all of their film's flaws, Hood and company do that well, as Ender's Game shapes up as a decent franchise starter -- and a film that makes it hard not to be intrigued by what will come next.

There's something Shakespearean about it. From the case of mistaken identity (though willfully mistaken) to the formal, old-fashioned language to the tragic tone in which it is all swaddled, this is Shakespeare by way of the Deep South.

It won't stick to your ribs in the way, say, a shank will -- but it probably won't leave you looking for a way to escape the theater, either.

The surprise is that Captain Phillips is a surprise in the first place, pitching and rolling tirelessly like the sea on which it is set and, in the process, becoming one of the most enjoyable and well-made movies to hit theaters this year.

Gravity, it turns out, is a great film, a technical and storytelling masterpiece that is buoyed by stunning visuals and which functions both as a ripping, tension-filled yarn and as a profound and life-affirming work of art.

Enough Said isn't without the occasional minor formulaic element or the odd narrative contrivance here and there (starting, it must be said, with its very setup). It is, after all, a romantic comedy.

That's perhaps the best word to describe Baggage Claim: contrived. And predictable, as it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out which tall, dark and handsome fellow she'll end up with.

Rush is just that -- a rush, and a film that is sure to get audiences' engines going.

It aims to entertain, to offer a few tame chuckles for parents and children to enjoy in a purely Saturday-morning way. And it accomplishes that.

It's that sort of singular imagery that ultimately rescues Lowery's film. Yes, it's a flawed movie, but it also is a downright lovely one.

While it's enjoyable enough to watch, there's no slam-dunk takeaway here.

This much is sure: Salinger would have hated this movie. But he would have hated it for the very reason that others will like it: because it takes an honest-to-goodness crack at unlocking that mystery of a man and at answering key questions the publishing world and the reading public have been asking ever since he forsook them. Nothing phony about that.

Thanks to Rochefort and Folch, as well as Trueba's delicate direction, it still manages to be an embraceable journey, one with its own quiet -- and artistic -- rewards.

What they're missing here is a story good enough to warrant visiting the same uncomfortably dark place and characters worth caring about. Instead, what we get is a film that boasts tons of atmosphere and flashes of Refn's visual style -- as well as an admirably unhinged performance from Kristen Scott Thomas -- but little else.

A crowd-pleaser, through and through.

The end result feels like only half a movie. That half -- the technical half, with Wong's stylistic flourishes and the film's lush technical elements -- is a heck of a film. The rest of The Grandmaster, however -- the storytelling -- is anything but grand.

It's that end -- the film's final sobering five minutes -- in which Blue Jasmine is at its most effective. Credit is due there to Blanchett's table-setting performance in it and in the hour and half preceding it. It's also due to the courage Allen displays as a storyteller in ending this particular story in the way it has to end.

Also helping to sell it all is the fact that these films, goofy though they may be, feature a consistently high level of acting. In addition to Pegg, we get Martin Freeman ("The Hobbit"), Paddy Considine ("Red Riding"), Eddie Marsan ("Sherlock Holmes") and Bill Nighy ("Love Actually"), all of whom have appeared previously in the trilogy.

It's also a touch tedious at times, as it's not always clear where Oppenheimer is going.

Imbued as it is with a sense of discomforting truth, it is a worthwhile examination of human nature -- and one with a message well worth heeding.

He was a charismatic leader and the greatest salesman the industry ever saw. He also was a very vocal spokesman for the graying counterculture -- crediting his high-tech success to Zen Buddhism, Dylan songs and acid trips.

Making it even more intriguing is the fact that the whole thing is, extraordinarily, inspired by a true story.

Director Klay Hall's embraceable, overachieving romp plays nicely as a big-screen feature.

The stakes in this latest, disappointing Harry Potter wannabe never feel as high as they should, or as important as its characters seem to think they are.

Granted, Elysium could be more clever as it goes about its business. This is smart sci-fi, but it's not as smart as it could have been -- or as many "District 9" fans were probably hoping it would be.

While Washington and Wahlberg help make sure the flawed 2 Guns isn't too bad, it's hard not to think that it could have been better.

It's pretty obvious that Almodovar at least was having fun making I'm So Excited. Ditto for his actors, who admirably go all-in for these roles. I'm glad they're having a good time. After all, somebody has to find a reason get excited about I'm So Excited.

It's the kind of cinematic cotton candy that youngsters will gobble up. Even more importantly, it's relatively quick, painless stuff when compared to so many other pint-sized entertainments out there.

Fruitvale Station is only the first in a string of civil-rights minded movies set to hit theaters this year -- contributing to what could be the most racially conscious award season in recent memory.

Those who connected with "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" last year or the lesser "Quartet" earlier this year likely will find things to appreciate about Williams' film, given its similar senior citizen angle and general sense of niceness and decency.

You can color me unimpressed.

The Way, Way Back is way, way good -- and a welcome breath of fresh air at the summertime box office.

It so shamelessly borrows from so many other movies, and then does absolutely nothing to add to them -- nothing to raise the bar, nothing to make it more interesting, and really nothing to make it the least bit appealing.

A great storyteller, however, is one who can entertain an audience in the moment -- but who also gives them something to think about, something for them to take home with them when the story ends, which is exactly what Polley does in Stories We Tell.

It's not a film for everyone. Those who see it, however, will have trouble forgetting it.

Lazy and stupid and unwilling to put forth the effort needed to distinguish itself even from a mediocre Internet video, it all amounts to a forgettable, slapdash bit of comedic nothingness.

Easily the most enjoyable animated film of 2013 so far.

It tickles both funnybones and eyeballs.

What the Cairns brothers have created is something rare for a horror film: Not only does it get the job done without making you want to shower after it's all over, but they've created multi-dimensional characters who inhabit a believable and expansive environment. In so doing, they've also created a bloody good bit of twisted fun.

The chief problem with such gimmick films -- including Maniac -- is that storytelling so often takes a back seat to the gimmick du jour, resulting movie that can be interesting from a technical perspective but not nearly as compelling as one would want.

This is solidly a genre picture, and one that follows all the necessary conventions -- but it's also one that does it all very well. That means lots of big, dumb and loud action -- but it also means good, popcorny, summer fun.

Roenning and Sandberg never dig deeply into the real, underlying motivating force behind Heyerdahl's voyage aboard the Kon-Tiki -- the name of his visually unimpressive but ultimately seaworthy raft -- other than relying on the fact that he wanted to prove his theory correct.

Watching it, one gets the feeling that Coppola knows these vampiric types all too well. What unfolds feels like a cross between "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" and "Natural Born Killers," and a film that is far more disapproving than glamorizing of the go-go-go Los Angeles lifestyle -- but fascinating nonetheless.

What Monsters University fails to do, though, is to scare up any real emotion.

This is the kind of movie that is so embraceable that it floats smoothly over those imperfections almost unnoticed.

Not only is the result edifying, but it's also rewarding. And it's a heck of a lot cheaper than a therapy session.

Even if it doesn't provide all the answers, "The East" asks some pretty darn good questions.

So we get no zippy, Tony Stark-flavored one-liners. No comic-relief characters. No nonsense. But that means we also get no up, up and away, either.

The real point of This is The End, however, is to make people laugh -- and it accomplishes that. Often, in fact -- and satisfyingly.

This is a movie purely for grown-ups, with its enjoyment coming not from its explosions or attacking aliens but from spending time with these characters and savoring its optimistic, "never too late for happiness" message.

A sleight-of-hand heist film that feels like a cross between David Blaine and "Ocean's Eleven," with a little Robin Hood thrown in, it's a ripping bit of fun. If, that is, you let it be.

And therein lies one of the film's most glaring problems. Perhaps that vilification of Big Agro will resonate with farm folk, but it's not the sort of thing that will have many city slickers -- even those who sympathize with the little guys on this issue -- exactly sitting on the edge of their theater seat.

This would be a difficult film even for the charismatic Papa Smith to carry. That he spends nearly the entire movie in a chair doesn't help matters.

Although Epic isn't quite an animated masterpiece -- or as enchanting as the vastly underrated "Guardians" -- it's still a fun, sweet-hearted kid-pleaser that boasts some downright lovely animation.

Just don't think too hard -- or at all, really -- or else you run the risk of realizing that Fast & Furious 6 is running on little more than fumes, with just a shot or two of nitrous.

And so the real question isn't whether director Todd Phillips' third -- and, he insists, the final -- installment in the unabashedly crude, very R-rated comedy trilogy is funny. Of course, it is.

World War II dramas might be common enough, but, amid them all, Lore stands as an uncommon entry in the genre.

Lacks any real sense of vitality. And no matter how worthwhile a film's message is, it's difficult for audiences to care if the path to the payoff so often feels like a slog.

What's more -- and here's where Abrams' brilliance is on full display -- you don't need to know a Class M planet from a hole in the ground to enjoy it all.

The film's message -- about how the Internet is sabotaging our real-life relationships -- doesn't resonate with absolute clarity, but Disconnect does a much more effective job than anyone could hope to do in 140 characters or less.