Mike Scott

There are movies based on real events that must be embellished in order to make them work on the big screen. Mel Gibson's World War II drama Hacksaw Ridge is not such a movie. In fact, it's the opposite.

Here's the crazy thing, though. Against all odds, it works.

In reality, in this age of cookie-cutter entertainment, the movie's success probably is because of Cody's unconventional script. This isn't a silly, disposable, rom-com -- and thank goodness for that.

The United States vs. Billie Holiday presents Holiday as a victim and little more. Ignored is the fact that the self-destructive Holiday bears at least some culpability for the slow-motion tragedy that was her life — and for her all-too-early death at 44 years old. Daniels, who seems to have made the classic mistake of falling in love with his subject, apparently doesn’t have time for such nuance.

If there's a complaint, it's that it flirts with rambling once the main case is solved -- nearly 20 minutes before the movie ends. But Fincher uses that remaining time to expand on Lisbeth's character, which is hard to hold against him.

Vinterberg's Far From the Madding Crowd is a lovely adaptation. What's more, it's downright entertaining.

Sleepwalk With Me is a decent film -- even if its not one that lingers.

It's an intriguing travelogue, showing parts of Iran that most of us could never see, or would never dare try to see, given that nasty "Death to America" thing.

His (Jonze) obvious affection for, and veneration of, Maurice Sendak's 1963 Caldecott Medal-winning children's book is palpable in his near-perfect live-action adaptation, a dreamy -- and, like Sendak's book, faintly nightmarish -- exploration of one child's tantrum-y side.

Amusing as it often is, it's all also fairly predictable stuff. If there's one thing Arteta's script is missing, it's imagination.

It also includes the elucidating, offering a rare glimpse at the architecture of Spinney's elaborate Big Bird costume.

To be clear: Despite the holiday flavor, and despite the pint-sized hero, this is no kids' movie. There is swearing. There is blood. There is an army of 180 very nude Santas coursing through the snow. That's not the kind of thing Frank Capra ever could have dreamed of -- and that change of pace is exactly what makes Rare Exports a rare, if unexpected, holiday treat.

Far more often than not, Lee's talented ensemble -- who really do look like they're having a blast together -- generate more laugh-out-loud moments than lulls, all of which help make Girls Trip work nicely as a mood-elevating mid-summer diversion.

And let's be honest: Hawking and Wilde's romance is lovely in its own way. But his scientific work? That's important. That's staggering. That's life-changing, not just for him, but for all of us. And The Theory of Everything? Despite that title, and despite those performances, it just doesn't feel like any of those things.

It's provocative stuff, and The Yes Men approach it with a wicked sense of humor.

Few of the film's secondary characters feel fully developed, with the possible exception of Nelsan Ellis' portrayal of Brown sidekick Bobby Byrd.

Just as key to the movie's impact are its well-acted scenes of heart-wrenching emotion, although some stray perilously close to melodrama.

Dawson, who to this point has largely built her career playing supporting characters, seizes the opportunity to stand center-stage, all but taking over the film.

An admirably full portrait of a film that reflects, with thrilling discomfort, the darker recesses of our minds.

That's the kind of movie this is, the kind that sticks with you, that prods you to examine things. In the process, it reveals itself to be something of an emotional roller coaster -- but one well worth riding.

Built on an interesting idea -- but which, unlike Strug, can't quite stick the landing.

A movie with a message, but the subtle kind; it's whispered wisdom, wrapped up in a story of mystery, of love, of regret, of repentance and redemption.

Like Paddleton itself, Romano's performance isn't flashy. It isn't dripping with self-awareness or desperation. Rather, it's quietly, subtly beautiful. And it deserves to be seen.

So here's what moviegoers can trust from the Russo's Captain America: Winter Solider: They can trust it to be a brisk ride. They can trust it to be entertaining. They can expect it to be suspenseful.

There's plenty of melodrama, plenty of whispered intensity, plenty of dramatic pauses in his story. There also are a few bizarro -- and, in some cases, unnecessary -- detours. But when it's all said and done, there's no real call for any emotional investment on the part of his audience.

Pure cinematic fluff, the kind of film that tends to evaporate within a few hours of seeing it. That being said, Manville is so charming, and the rest of Fabian’s film is so well meaning, and so well realized, that by the time it hits its inevitable third-act moment, it’s hard not to be swept up by the joy of it all.

If there's a prevailing problem with director Richard Loncraine's bit of period fluff, it's that many of the characters encountered along the way are a touch too cartoonish to resonate meaningfully with audiences.

Granted, it takes a while to get to that point. Nearly an hour, in fact. That's owed to Zvyagintsev's penchant for long, lingering shots, which emphasizes mood over kinetic energy, and which also at times creates a drag on the narrative. That mood, however -- tragic, hopeless, heartbreaking -- is expertly created.