R. Kurt Osenlund

The film uses its male-on-male boundary-leaping to give the shopworn man-boy narrative a refresh.

The near-imperceptible finesse of Abby's characterization reflects writer-director Stacie Passon's effortless, interesting mix of richness and economy.

Of Bennett Miller's many directorial feats, his canniest is his depiction of the precariousness of bonds, and how those bonds can shift, drastically yet almost imperceptibly.

Steven Spielberg's film may further the heroism so associated with its subject, and favor a liberal viewpoint that leers down at the Confederates, but it's no bleeding-heart glamorization.

Beautiful, poetic, and hard-hitting without the use of excessive force and deeply layered with evolving and regional nuances of feminine experience

Both keenly calculated and flowing with offbeat, naturalistic detail, Hanif Kureishi's jewel of a script reflects his sensibilities as a playwright.

What this movie finally boils down to is a deceptively simple tale of two brothers, and of being one's brother's keeper, and of seeking justice on the crudest of fronts.

Succeeds as a satirical fantasy about writerly self-involvement, but it's worth celebrating as a testament to self-made greatness, particularly in regard to the efforts of writer/star Zoe Kazan.

In the film, Alexander Payne's overview of America is extraordinarily, multifariously profound.

Books themselves become the story's key symbol, representing the past and future, loss and possibility, of a place that's ground zero for some of history's darkest days.

In keeping his actors on his sober-yet-buoyant plane, Kenneth Branagh presents a convincing romance that doesn't stall the film's brisk clip.

Superhero movies aren't going anywhere, nor is their standard, on-to-the-next-fight structure, so it's heartening to see a gem that grandly and amusingly fills in the blanks.

The film boldly raises the unanswerable question of whether it's better for an artist to safely isolate his work or tweak it a bit so as to share it with the world.

On one hand, the film is surely a celebration of a land's distinct creatures and the people who live among them, but on the other, it's a culture's biting auto-critique.

The Hunger Games is more notable for the holes it doesn't fall into than the great heights it reaches.

Melissa McCarthy is riveting in simply-penned moments of remorse and confession, adding tearful depth to her ace timing and formidable physical comedy.

Dianna Agron, suddenly inspired to let go, proves the perfect on-the-prowl foil to Paz de la Huerta's free spirit.

It pairs modern attitude with John Hughesian tropes, and it's odd enough, in spurts, to boast originality.

But even from an objective viewpoint, Girls Just Want to Have Fun isn’t really a bad film, at least not in the ways in which we tend to define bad films. The acting is more than competent, there’s not much glaringly bad dialogue, the humor is inventive, and the song-and-dance is engaging.

One of its strengths is a knowledge of when to unfurl information, particularly for the strongest emotional effect.

This PG-rated romp is, refreshingly, less notable for its happily-ever-afters than its oh-no-they-didn'ts.

It winningly reflects how to utilize quiet understandings and, yes, very loud laughter.

The wonder and terror of Meryl Streep's performance in The Iron Lady is her formidable ability to nail the disheartening talents of not just Margaret Thatcher, but so many conservative politicians like her, who have a tremendous knack for changing minds and beckoning cheers while underlining their own rigid ignorance.

Magic Mike XXL isn't so much a lesser movie than Magic Mike as it is a looser one.

Liberal Arts provides a peek into what makes Josh Radnor tick, and what he cares about outside his mainstream-targeted sitcom.

Characters are better employed; emotions are, for once, palpable; and the selfishness of Bella, author Stephenie Meyer's avatar, is finally somewhat squelched.

David Frankel crams his story with predictable developments, yet he matches his subject in spirit, pushing something into the spotlight that, however unlikely, elicits irresistible glee.

All told, there's an ageless warmth to The LEGO Movie akin to that of the LEGO brand itself.