Pat Padua

The trouble with the film is that this animal love story also saps some of the franchise’s main strength, which has always been the almost pet-like relationship between humans and dragons.

Ultimately, Happy Death Day 2U doesn’t live up to its aspirations. Landon’s script may be better than his direction, but he leaves a potentially resonant subplot — one that involves existential questions — flat and lifeless, as if our most important choices were of no more consequence than a joystick maneuver.

A thoroughly engrossing take on a familiar scenario.

Still, the movie has a kind of optimism that is reflected in the new generation of English thespians in its young cast: Imrie is the son of actress Celia Imrie, and Serkis is the son of actor and filmmaker Andy Serkis.

While the young cast does its best to sell the gleeful music, its delirious premise eventually loses steam, as do the songs, which are stronger in the first part of the film. Yet despite this doomsday setting, Anna and the Apocalypse ultimately delivers an uplifting message.

While the movie doesn’t shy away from confronting the obstacles of foster parenthood, it never fully earns its happy ending.

With its charming character animation and inventive art direction, The Grinch is a vast improvement over Ron Howard’s live-action adaptation of the same story.

The film lacks the very imagination it touts, along with another trait that it links to exceptional athleticism. That’s obsession.

Here, however, Atkinson may even outdo Cruise, with the comedian hurling his 63-year-old body into the service of comedy.

Sometimes feels like a horror movie with a contact high.

The movie gives some depth to its misfits, and ultimately sends the valuable message that nobody should be ashamed of who they are.

In his effort to inject fresh blood into this gory franchise, which has already seen four sequels (including two “Alien” crossovers), the filmmaker can’t seem to summon up that old Black magic.

It’s unfortunate that the tribute to veterans that is so much a part of the movie’s marketing turns out to be little more than a framing device that’s dispensed with for most of the plot.

Its NBA all-star cast — well hidden under layers of makeup — has a winning chemistry making them easy to root for.

Grown-ups might not roll over for Show Dogs, but children almost surely will. With its fart jokes and smart-alecky canines, this talking-animal comedy is aimed at a young audience anyway. For dog-loving adults, well, it’s just engaging enough to make them prick up their ears.

A lowbrow comedy so irreverent it could almost be considered a subversive indictment of law enforcement, not to mention lowbrow humor. Almost, that is, if it were remotely funny.

Given its pedigree, Sgt. Stubby takes fewer liberties than some fact-based war movies. Bolstered by an irresistible protagonist, the tear-jerking script by Lanni and Mike Stokey makes up for shortcomings in animation.

Director Alison Chernick profiles the violin virtuoso, through his performance, of course, but she also reveals a personality as expressive as his musicianship.

The film’s central metaphor — life is like wine — is an overripe one.

As Nur, Kanboura delivers a performance that is the most varied and effective of the movie’s three stars, growing from the shy newcomer to become the story’s moral center and heart.

Yelchin’s performance — grizzled, neurotic — is sadly on-the-nose, making us feel as if we’re watching the last act of a troubled young man.

Like its protagonist’s fleeting relationships, the film never completely connects.

Despite a glorious performance by Nicolas Cage as a vicious father, this vivid satire of a world turned upside down is marred by writer-director Brian Taylor’s sloppy filmmaking.

In some ways, My Friend Dahmer is a typical coming-of-age movie about an awkward teen. What distinguishes this particular case of adolescent angst is that it’s the true story of serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer.

The film’s young slashers are irredeemably smug and obnoxious, and their bloodthirsty craving for social media likes, represented by heart icons that float out of their cellphones after each murder that they document — without implicating themselves — fuels a vicious satire.

An intermittently effective biography, marred by a frequently intrusive score.

This is one movie that no one needs to relive.

Simultaneously earnest yet maudlin, Te Ata lacks the one thing its subject is said to have possessed: a gift for storytelling.