Moira Macdonald

The film is over quickly, before I’d seen quite enough of Westwood’s fanciful clothing, or heard quite enough of her voice.

Skyscraper, which lacks the lunkheaded charm of “Rampage,” isn’t the ideal vehicle — its special effects are murky (I saw it in 2D; it’s probably even muddier in 3D), and a bit of wit wouldn’t have been unwelcome. Nobody in this film has a personality; they’re just evil, stoic, mildly badass (particularly Neve Campbell, as Will’s resourceful wife) or The Rock.

Burnham, in his debut film, makes some funny observations about growing up in the tech era.... But mostly, with glorious support from Fisher’s symphony of awkward poignancy, he makes all of us remember what it’s like to be 13.

Isabelle is complicated, in a way that movie women often aren’t; Binoche makes her an intriguing puzzle to solve.

It’s hard to watch young Whitney, knowing what lies ahead, but it seems important to do as the film does: take a moment, and just listen to her sing.

Despite an unnecessary reliance on blurry re-enactment scenes early in the film, Wardle makes Three Identical Strangers as spellbinding as a great psychological thriller.

Dark fare indeed, and you won’t shake it off easily.

The Gospel According to André leaves you wishing you knew a little more about this complex, elegant gentleman and his lifelong love affair with style.

Even the heavenly chorus that’s working overtime on the soundtrack can’t drown out the lack of chemistry between Howard and Pratt. And the movie too often defaults to people running around screaming — which is, to be fair, the backbone of this franchise, but it gets awfully old here.

The cast is a likable bunch, and I can see how Tag might go down nicely with a couple of beers beforehand; it’s definitely funny in spots, in a we’re-making-this-up-as-we-go-along sort of way.

Despite this rich emotional material (not to mention some gloriously shabby drawing rooms), the film feels surprisingly dull and conventional — two things its heroine most definitely was not.

Casting a dramatic film with nonactors is always a risky proposition; the fresh, natural presence of “real people” is sometimes outweighed by awkwardness when they have to deliver scripted dialogue. But Chloé Zhao’s dreamlike Western The Rider is one of those happy exceptions.

While it’s great fun to watch the Incredibles/Parrs zipping around saving the world (with help from their preternaturally cool pal Lucius/Frozone, voiced with gusto by Samuel L. Jackson), Incredibles 2 gets its heart by being a sweet family story.

The Ocean’s 8 cast makes up for any deficits in its execution (Awkwafina, in particular, can make even the most mundane line funny); these women are just great fun to hang with, and I’d happily sit still for a slew of sequels.

Fred Rogers is gone and the world is a much scarier place; this film, like a gift, briefly transports us back to the calm we felt long ago.

Disobedience unfolds quietly but passionately, with a generosity of spirit toward its three central characters.

Book Club is very silly and feather-light, but let me say this: Spending time with this quartet is way more fun than reading “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

Those who love books, picturesque English villages and getting lost in actors’ faces should be very happy

It’s bland and forgettable, and director Falcone still hasn’t figured out how not to sabotage his supporting cast (why hire the hilarious Chris Parnell if you’re not going to let him be funny?), but it’s a movie a lot like the presence of McCarthy herself — there’s an inner sweetness that shines through.

The pleasure of this movie is in Cody’s sly barbs (the rich brother-in-law’s wife has a dog named Prosecco, and a kid whose talent-show skill is Pilates) and in Theron’s soulful, lived-in performance.

Where is Kyra? is a small story — there’s much about its main character that we’ll never know — and a terribly sad one. But it’s a remarkable showcase for Pfeiffer, who’ll break your heart in every scene.

It’s filled with moments that click, but it just feels too big.

The sweet-natured rom-com I Feel Pretty has a well-meaning message, but it gets lost in the telling.

You get caught up in the way Tucci lets a round lamp fade into a glowing moon, or how Rush’s posture suggests a lifetime of bending over a canvas, or how a face on that canvas slowly emerges, from a forest of lines — and suddenly, time passes, and art happens.

Only two things need to be said about Rampage: It’s really terrible, and I enjoyed it immensely.

Outside In is about connection, and about two remarkable actors telling us a story.

A Quiet Place is brief, taut and often quite terrifying. And it creates in its audience a fascinating relationship with sound.

Pandas leaves its viewer newly educated, filled with hope, and dazzled.