Moira Macdonald

Jane Austen Wrecked My Life is a gentle treat, sure to leave any book-loving viewer happy.

It’s a bunch of plastic blocks that have an adventure, and it’s basically insane; not quite as pleasantly so as the first movie (the element of astonished surprise isn’t there), but hey, that’s a high bar. Everything is … oh, damn it, there I go again.

Directed by Carlos Saldanha, who co-directed "Ice Age," the film feels visually richer than its predecessor (thanks to all that plain white ice melting) but has the same brand of uncomplicated all-ages charm.

Its primary tone is wistful; a slow, reluctant goodbye, not just to an act but to an era. By its end, all you want is to see that dance, just one more time.

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

The Edge of Seventeen, in its R-rated way (booze and sex play supporting roles), is a sweetheart — just like Erwin.

Mann, as he showed two years ago in "The Insider," is a wonderfully idiosyncratic storyteller, sketching out a plot line with quick scenes, jumping into the middle of a story and letting us figure out who's who.

You watch wishing this story, in the real world, could have had a different ending; and marveling at how Stewart finds new, close-to-the-bone layers in a character we thought we already knew.

I can’t say I truly enjoyed watching Babylon, or that I’d ever want to see it again, but I definitely haven’t stopped thinking about it since screening it earlier this month.

It’s a long sit, but a day later I find myself still thinking about Chan’s quiet, mesmerizing presence at the film’s center, and how Zhao had the confidence to let that performance speak so softly. It’s a different kind of superhero movie; not to everyone’s taste, but made for us all.

Bring patience — and a fondness for Malick-ish stillness — and perhaps find reward.

Older audiences braced for tragedy may be drawn to its imaginative visuals — the stories told by the monster are rendered in delicate, painterly animation — and to the achingly vulnerable, growing-up-too-fast boy at its center.

What’s crucial here, as in the original film, is the chemistry between the cast members. And though McKinnon’s the standout, the four women click together like Legos.

There’s much pleasure to be had in Elvis & Nixon from its two lead performances.

I found myself admiring The Bronze for its stalwart refusal to soften Hope, and for Rauch’s carefully detailed performance.... But admiring isn’t quite the same as liking. This film is a comedy wrapped in barbed wire; approach with caution.

Pattinson keeps you interested, even when the movie’s tone and pace wobbles.

How you feel about the psychological thriller Insider may depend on how you feel about spending the better part of two hours staring nonstop at Willem Dafoe.

Filmed during three separate trips to the Auschwitz site starting in 2010, the result is a movie so intensely personal that it amounts to an extended selfie.

It’s a pretty picture and a sweet adventure, and sometimes that’s enough.

Jason Reitman’s The Front Runner is so crowded with characters and overlapping conversations and crammed-full rooms that it’s easy to miss the quiet at its center: the enigma that is Gary Hart.

The movie isn’t terrible, but too often it feels Hollywood-bland; a missed opportunity, served neat.

Allied runs out of steam before its overwrought ending. It’s as if the film, struggling under the weight of the classic epics it recalls, just gives up.

The film’s light, sardonic approach is a tricky match with its subject matter: 9/11; power-crazed, empty-souled politicians; dark ambitions. It’s entertaining, sure, but a lot of us might not feel like laughing.

Ultimately “Pérez” seems strangely underwhelming, like a lavish party that falls just a little flat.

No Time to Die has moments of pleasure, lots of them, but ultimately it feels heavy in a way a Bond movie shouldn’t; its pacing is off and it can’t quite sell the earnestness and even sentimentality of much of its storyline.

Eddie Redmayne’s performance in “The Danish Girl” feels like it’s in soft focus; like the movie, it’s gentle and blurry and not quite there.

There seem to be entire worlds behind every sentence in this film, floating somewhere just past our line of vision, calling to us as they slip away.

Ticket to Paradise is all about the welcome sight of a pair of movie stars who know exactly what to do with their wattage.