Moira Macdonald

Gere, who somehow seems to make himself physically smaller here, creates a character both infuriating and endearing.

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword” lumbers on for more than two hours, weighed down with oversized elephants, excessively populated action sequences, and weirdly sudden occurrence of slow motion, as if the film is yawning.

Snatched is one of those movies that feels like a rough draft of itself. A few more rewrites, a few more laughs, a little (well, a lot) more attention, and maybe it would have been an amusing summer comedy.

There are moments of astonishing lyricism.

The film’s strength is its cast, and each of them finds moments of truth.

Screen chemistry is an odd thing; often you only notice it when it isn’t there. (See: far too many Hollywood romantic comedies.) But Their Finest, an utterly charming film set in World War II-era London, contains a textbook example.

That Unforgettable is watchable, at least before it disintegrates into generic violence near the end, is due to the touches of wit in the directing, and to the two lead performances.

Having, presumably, run out of surfaces on the ground, the mad driving crew of Furious 7 resort to backing their cars off a plane and clutching their steering wheels while driving, er, falling through thin air. Why do they do this? Because it’s fun … to watch, that is.

If “Fast Six” is as much guilty-pleasure fun as this edition, directed within an inch of its life by Justin Lin (even the occasional subtitles are excitable), it’ll do just fine.

Cézanne et Moi sounds more fascinating than it actually is; essentially, it’s just under two hours of exquisitely art-directed conversation, little of which is especially compelling.

It’s impossible to watch this film without a tapping toe and a smile.

The movie zips along quickly, full of popcorn-worthy moments.

It’s an agreeably generic mishmash of every old-guys-pull-one-last-heist movie you’ve ever seen.

It’s a simple, moving story about love, loss and storytelling itself.

A coming-of-age tale like you’ve never seen, Julia Ducournau’s Raw left me intrigued, mildly nauseated and extremely curious about what passes for recreation at French veterinary schools.

It’s a remarkable story, told in a movie that doesn’t always quite live up to it; except for a few crucial scenes, The Zookeeper’s Wife feels a bit too soft-focus for the devastating story it tells.

A character, even when he’s played by Woody Harrelson, is not a movie.

Batra has assembled a strong cast, a thoughtful screenplay (by Nick Payne), a meticulous attention to detail — all of which make The Sense of an Ending a pleasure to watch. But the book ever-so-subtly slams you in the heart; the movie, just as subtly, only walks near it.

Are we alone, or is there more than we know? Personal Shopper is less interested in the answer than in, hauntingly, posing the question.

This Beauty and the Beast had me leaving the theater feeling utterly happy; like I’d spent time with old friends who’d grown and changed, and yet remained the same at heart.

I’ll admit to a weakness for this sort of thing (which Merchant-Ivory, a couple of decades back, made into elegant art), but even I couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm for this one, a tepid love triangle set in the Ottoman Empire in the early days of World War I.

Kong: Skull Island won’t win any points for the brilliance of its writing (or for the way it reduces a terrific actor like Larson to a personality-free camera-clicker) — but oh, that ape

Even Deutch’s charming radiance (she never entirely sells Sam’s nasty side) can’t quite get us through the slog of this plot.

The chemistry between the two actors is a pleasure.

Get Out will scare you, make you laugh and perhaps make you uncomfortable. It’s supposed to.

The Red Turtle doesn’t answer the questions it raises, but it doesn’t need to; it’s about moonlight on the water, a hand held out to another, and the way a wave, rippling onto a shore, leaves no trace of its brief life.

If Verbinski could have trimmed about an hour from the film (which weighs in at a portly 146 minutes), he might have had something.

It’s not a terribly good idea to base a movie on a book in which almost nothing happens for 500 pages, but that’s what we have here.