Moira Macdonald

Filmmaker Destin Daniel Cretton (“Short Term 12”) can’t quite find that magical balance that Walls hits, and tilts the story too far toward sentiment.

The film is inspiring and funny and lovely.

Kidnap has a tossed-together sameness to it, like a salad made up only of tired lettuce.

Bigelow has a way of making scripted drama feel like an utterly gripping newsreel. That’s not necessarily all to the good — I found myself wishing for more character development — but you can’t deny the power of the filmmaking.

Pugh, a young newcomer with just a tiny handful of film credits, gives a performance of rare ferocity.

While it’s still an enjoyable novelty to spend time during an action movie wondering where I could buy the hero’s boots, it’s no substitute for a good story.

Restless Creature isn’t a mere celebration of a great artist; it’s a moving portrait of what happens when that artist confronts the possibility of not being able to make that art any more.

What’s fun here is both the easy charm of the four women (two of whom have a long screen history together; watch for Smith and Latifah in a shout-out to 1996’s “Set It Off”), and the range of comedy styles they display.

Those fascinated by the art of animation will find much to ponder here — the hand-drawn brush strokes, the lush colors, the way just a few quickly sketched lines suddenly take vivid life.

Dunkirk succeeds spectacularly both emotionally and visually.

Score, directed by Matt Schrader, breaks no new ground in the art of documentary — it’s mostly talking heads — but it’s an enjoyable walk through the art and history of the film score, with dozens of contemporary composers lending their voices.

The whole purpose of this teen horror movie is to show creatively gruesome deaths. If you prefer your horror flicks with a dash of wit or suspense, look elsewhere.

The movie works for the reason that all the best rom-coms do: you fall in love, a little bit, with Kumail and Emily, and want them to stay together. Love, this movie reminds us, is often inconvenient; but it does ultimately conquer all.

What shines through is the beauty of Guy Godfree’s cinematography — the light has a lovely, soft stillness to it, like a painting — and a remarkable performance by Hawkins, whose impossibly wide smile seems to bring the sun.

Inside Out movingly but casually plays with our emotions, like a baby walking her fingers across a parent’s face; it leaves you changed, entertained, nostalgic, dazzled.

It’s a compelling argument, in a film that may well change a few minds — or at least inspire some heartfelt post-screening arguing.

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

Candles illuminate faces in the dark; a curving staircase looms like a shadow. And the actors pitch their roles perfectly: Kidman’s breathy calm; Farrell’s charm, just hinting at something dark within it; Fanning’s way of prettily arranging herself, showing off Alice’s newfound power; Dunst’s quiet melancholy.

It’s uncannily choreographed, with gestures and movements timed precisely to the soundtrack’s beat.

It plants its gaze on Lee — and on Elliott, who takes The Hero in his hands and makes something quietly moving from it.

Like all of Kore-eda’s films, After the Storm ends with a jolt; not in the filmmaking, but in the way you realize that you were completely lost in the lives of these people and that, as the lights go up, you’ll miss them.

Hayek plays her role with such gentle conviction, the movie quickly becomes something else: a sort of tragedy of manners.

It’s a quietly competent film and a good story, and in the overstuffed summer movie season, often that’s more than enough.

It’s pretty, it’s melodramatic-verging-on-silly, and if you like this sort of thing it’s great fun.

The Mummy starts off light and very quickly goes dark — fading rapidly, along with our hopes that this latest monster mash might possibly be any good.

Paris Can Wait isn’t exactly a feast, but it’s a snack worth having.

Diana’s a superhero without a chip on her shoulder; she was raised in love, and Gadot lets that belief shine through her eyes. You’re both drawn to this woman and in awe of her.

Directors Joachim Rønning and Espen Sandberg (“Kon-Tiki”) seem to not have the slightest idea how to make this material sing; instead, it’s mostly a noisy, dark 3D blur in which the characters run around a lot, seemingly looking for the exits