Sara Stewart

First-time feature director Clare Niederpruem gives it her very earnest all, but falls short both on continuity issues (a smoldering curling iron, for example, is dropped to the floor and immediately forgotten) and on making her gradually aging cast match up.

Overall, the insubstantial Lucky Stiff feels like community theater with an extravagant budget.

Director Suri Krishnamma capably depicts the darkness in Jim’s head with his shadowy surroundings, misanthropic inner monologue and increasingly frequent hallucinations, and Griffith’s vulnerable performance is a standout. But the film’s final third seems needlessly graphic.

What begins as a clever action-comedy a la “Pineapple Express” or Eisenberg’s earlier “Zombieland” devolves into a standard shoot-’em-up, with gore splashed around to distract us from the dearth of wit.

Despite the generally talented cast of Anesthesia, its linked-lives format, which we’ve seen so many times before, is frustrating: Too much adds up to not quite enough.

This pastiche of sitcomy episodes never gels into a plot.

Director-writer Abe Forsythe (“Down Under”) nails a handful of funny juxtapositions, but too often leans into mean-spirited and tired yuks. As far as red flags for lameness go, fat-kid and pooping your pants jokes are, well, dead giveaways.

Sure, violence in movies isn't violence in real life. And when you combine it with intelligent dialogue and pointed social commentary (a la "Django Unchained"), it can be cathartic. But The Last Stand, absent either of these things, just seems to want to gin up a lot of high-fiving for a lot of shooting, and right now is the least palatable time I can think of for that.

Writer/director Andrew Levitas needlessly pads this captivating theme with over-used tropes.

Squanders its big ideas in record time.

This well-intentioned drama — writer/director Paul Dalio has spoken publicly about his own struggles — veers into a common pitfall of films that portray mental illness: Romanticizing it.

Son of a Gun, from first-time feature director Julius Avery, begins with an enticingly dark first act in jail, but descends steadily downward into a mass of clichés.

Andy Goddard’s feature debut is shot stylishly in black and white, but deals in themes that feel equally retro.

The Maze Runner isn’t based on a video game, but you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. In it, our hero must lead his comrades through a dingy gray concrete maze while dodging cyborg monsters, and it all looks like every gaming trailer you’ve ever seen.

Small Time has its heart in the right place, but its screenplay’s in serious need of a tuneup.

Jane Wants a Boyfriend loses momentum careening between Dushku’s Bianca and Krause’s Jane — the latter of whom is far more interesting.

McCarthy shines when loosely riffing, but the plot tightens around her like a vise.

In my favorite scene, Hobbs leads his tween daughter’s soccer team in a haka (Maori war dance) to intimidate their rivals. Can’t wait for “Fast and Furious 11: No Boys Allowed.”

Some things, like ouzo and flaming cheese, are best left at single servings.

Too Late is a good-looking gimmick of a movie, one that will only be shown in theaters on 35mm film. Old-school advocate Quentin Tarantino would be proud — as he should be, since this noir starring John Hawkes feels like a big old valentine to him.

Would it have been tacky to visually play up the connection between Tolkien’s harrowing experiences on the WWI battlefield and his depiction of Mordor in the books? Perhaps. Beyond the briefest of allusions, Karukoski tastefully leaves that to the imagination. But this — like much of the film — is a tastefulness that induces sleepiness. Tolkien’s estate was not supportive of this film, understandably: The legendary author’s work is memorial enough.

It’s a blatantly terrible idea with potential for comedy, but DuVall’s sometimes amusing screenplay has trouble finding its footing as an ensemble portrait of struggling relationships.

Hate to say it, but this film ain’t half the satire it could have been.

For piquing kids’ interest in history and nature, you could do worse than this goofy Ben Stiller franchise. But its third installment is more meh than manic, too reliant on wide shots of the ragtag Museum of Natural History cohorts striding down corridors. You get the feeling returning director Shawn Levy is ready to hang it up.

Thaddeus Bradley, narrating in tedious metaphors about how “there’s always more than what’s on the surface.” That’s one claim this shallow sequel simply can’t back up.

Ultimately, all signs point to Going in Style having been overcooked by too many chefs: You know you’re in trouble when multiple scenes in the trailer never show up in the final product.

The Poison Rose doesn’t aspire to transcend any clichés, and judging from the flagging energy level of the actors, everyone involved knows it.

If you’re into seeing Johnny Depp and Robert Pattinson play truly despicable government officials, have I got a movie for you!