Miriam Di Nunzio

It’s a portrait of communities and families striving to do right by their kids, but where schools and lack of job programs fail to meet communities’ most desperate needs.

This is a film that moves quietly along but speaks volumes.

Regardless of language, this film speaks volumes about the human condition. About childhood. About loss. About family. About unconditional love.

Calderon and Larrain (also director of the Golden Globe-nominated “Jackie”) have taken great dramatic license with Neruda’s story, and the payoff is more than worth the risk.

Those who know every shred of the band’s story will find the film a cool reminder of what the Stooges meant to rock ‘n’ roll. Those who know little of their music (vacuum cleaners and blenders were among their unique instruments) will find Pop an interesting and forthcoming individual.

If there’s one thing you can count on from indie filmmaker Kelly Reichardt, it’s a keen and unwavering ability to bring the viewer into the world of the outsider as few other filmmakers can.

The biggest reason to see the Italian dramedy “Mia Madre” can be summed up in two words: John Turturro.

It is Christmas who steals every scene, and rightfully so. The teen actor is so engaging and endearing (despite his character’s penchant for foul language); his screen presence at such a young age is a wonder.

Curran’s script never digs deep enough.

The friendship that develops between Ricky and Hec is priceless; they are each other’s salvation, whether they realize it or not.

All of it is such a throwback on so many levels (Charlie’s car, his clothes, his incessant use of pay phones) that you just go with it, no matter how many confusing twists and turns the conspiracy theory plot takes thanks to co-writers Stuhr and Ricker.

Guzman and Garcia (reunited from HBO’s “How to Make It in America”) are a joy to watch, and deliver their lines with just enough nuance to make them truly endearing.

This is not so much a film about understanding the numbers, but understanding the men who made us see their merit, and the passion that drives each of us to find the true meaning in our lives. And that is a worthy lesson indeed.

A film that is beautiful to look at but lacks clear vision.

Nina never decides what it wants to say or where it wants to take us.

Hawke is engaging as Baker.

Sophisticated in its look and feel on the one hand (the warm hues and tones evoke a warmth that defies the wintry cold), it’s almost too retro for its own good on the other.

The little boy here, a stick-figured, button-headed, wide-eyed tot with a signature red-and-white striped shirt, is one of the most distinctive and adorable animated characters you’ll ever come across, and his introduction to “the world out there” is a moving revelation indeed.

The documentary homes in on the ideas of community, about caregiving and giving care, about human nature and humanity, about parenting and becoming parents to the people we once called mom and dad.

We are captivated by the beauty we see, lulled into a sense of bliss. We are jolted by bursts of vengeance and violence, and even those are stylized beyond all comprehension. Hou is a master indeed.

The reality depicted is sometimes too emotional to watch, because it’s such a personal story for all involved.

The film never allows the audience to truly get to know any of the characters in Larry’s world.

The film is not perfect; its message at times gets lost in its “pearls of wisdom” approach. But overall, there is a soothing quality to it, with Gibran’s words resonating on some level to those who are willing to listen.