Sara Stewart

There’s such a genuine sweetness to Johnson you can’t help digging the shtick.

There are two things that make the flawed Mapplethorpe worth a watch: Matt Smith’s dedicated performance, and a reverent inclusion of so much of the artist’s work.

Action flick machismo suffers an identity crisis in Stuber.

Daniel Radcliffe continues to propel himself further from his Harry Potter past, this time via straight-up flatulence: Swiss Army Man nearly makes up with juvenile glee what it lacks in plot and coherence.

Thankfully, director Miguel Arteta (“Beatriz at Dinner”) gets a solid half-hour of funny out of this thing before clunkiness sets in.

The film begins by telegraphing impending doom (and wraps up, underwhelmingly, with thriller clichés).

Second films in trilogies are often the toughest to pull off. Maybe Green’s final chapter, Halloween Ends, will redeem what he’s done here, which ultimately feels like very little progress at all.

On one hand, third installment is series of hilarious meditations on trials of being middle-aged woman, co-written by feminist goddess Emma Thompson, who gives self all best lines as deadpan OB-GYN.

The satire’s so meta that its whiny protagonists threaten to eclipse the joke.

Ultimately, for the show’s fans, it may not matter if “Sponge Out of Water” shows a hint of mildew. After all, my co-critic’s most enthusiastic note — “Hilarious!” — was written before the lights even dimmed.

More wobbly moments of Woman Walks Ahead seem to teeter on the edge of both white-saviorism and becoming a Harlequin romance.

Adrift is paced like its title, and the story’s momentum is slowed somewhat by constant toggling between past and present.

Prisoners of the Ghostland is equal parts visual delight and narrative head-scratcher. Most of all, it’s a hefty dose of Nicolas Cage set to full-tilt gonzo.

This erotic noir is about as substantial as one of its female lead’s string bikinis, but it’s an enjoyable trifle nonetheless.

For anyone looking for a shot of vengeance adrenaline while waiting for “John Wick 3” to come down the pike, Braven will probably fit the bill.

The long-term effects of bullying are at the heart of The Gift, a dark and ultimately quite nasty psychological thriller from actor/writer/debut director Joel Edgerton, who manages to yank the carpet out from under his audience a couple of times.

Leong’s film isn’t particularly stylish, but it makes the most of the climactic Knicks footage, as well as showcasing a sweetly goofy side of the 25-year-old, now playing for the Houston Rockets.

The considerable charms of Miles Teller and Analeigh Tipton elevate this middling rom-com.

The Giver is at its best when Bridges expounds on civilization’s lost beauty and savagery; at other times, it’s strewn with implausibility: For a totalitarian society in which everyone is monitored constantly, our hero is able to sneak around an awful lot.

Joker starts grim and gets grimmer, as Arthur embraces his inner demons and finds they resonate with the huddled masses of Gotham.

A thoughtful drama which sags when it tries to shoehorn its characters into by-the-numbers plot points.

This documentary, a love letter to their sisterly bond, gives a reasonably engaging look behind the scenes.

A likably gushy celebration of female friendship, sometimes feels like a throwback to the Drew Barrymore of the mid-’90s: At times you wonder if she and co-star Toni Collette might actually break out into a lip-sync-with-hairbrushes routine.

Bening forgoes vanity and digs into the humiliation Grahame felt as she aged out of the vampy roles Hollywood typecast her in. Bell brings a sturdy humanity to Peter, a low-key stage actor and nice guy who’s completely unfazed by their age difference.

By the last battle, you may find yourself hoping that at least one person escapes without being macheted to death.

The film fails to represent how singular and influential the late Giger is in popular culture.

Niccol’s film may not be perfect, but it shines a light on a subject many viewers will know vaguely by name — and not much more.

A refreshingly naturalistic depiction of the dynamic of traveling companionship — at any age.