Sara Stewart

In Zhang’s capable hands, their love story — in which Yanshi masquerades as various workmen in order to see his wife and attempt to jog her memory — is elegantly touching, as is the slow repair of the relationship between father and daughter.

Sunk by too much schmaltz (even for the Lower East Side).

Director Jay Karas doesn’t exactly reinvent the wheel as he puts this odd couple through the paces of getting in shape and reconciling old wounds, but he’s helped by some laugh-out-loud quirk in Gene Hong’s screenplay, nice comic chemistry between the two leads and supporting players like J.K. Simmons.

Casting aside warnings and physical threats from the townspeople, this once-demure teen girl embraces her wild side with a gory, punk-rock abandon.

Feels like an homage to the early work of Wes Anderson with its plinky soundtrack, solipsistic banter and emphasis on uniforms.

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.

Per Swanberg’s signature style, the dialogue is largely improvised, the performances loose and funny. This may be his most star-studded cast yet, but the work is as intimate (“mumblecore” is so passé) as ever.

They’re the ditziest, most solipsistic protagonists I’ve seen outside of a Neil LaBute project.

Mistress America never falters in its case study of a complicated female friendship.

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.

Debut director Marielle Heller’s spent a lot of time with this material — she wrote and starred in an off-Broadway adaptation — and her confident direction of Powley, Skarsgård and Wiig, fused with a Polaroid-evocative palette and a glam ’70s soundtrack, makes this an indelible coming-of-age story.

The movie itself seems equally divided between the sensibilities of hyperverbal writer Diablo Cody and music-centric director Jonathan Demme, and ends up falling into a muddy gap between the two.

For a company that purports to be all about sparking creativity, asking a kid to follow Ikea-evocative directions to assemble an X-wing fighter seems at odds with the mission.

Whether you’re a veteran Brando-phile or a newcomer, Listen to Me Marlon is a totally fascinating glimpse into the making (and unmaking, and remaking) of a legend.

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

It’s very funny and sweet and even a little weepy, and it has maybe the best scene ever filmed of dirty talk gone wrong. In other words, it’s a Schumer/Apatow production — may there be more of them to come.

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

The film spirals steadily downward through humanity’s worst impulses as the guards, led by Angarano’s character, explore the free rein they’re given to torment the powerless.

The two working girls at the center of Tangerine are played by engaging newcomers: Kitana Kiki Rodriguez as the freshly out-of-jail Sin-Dee Rella, and Mya Taylor as her best friend Alexandra.

Two of Winehouse’s oldest friends also contribute, giving deeply sad accounts of watching their goofy, fearless pal disappear into a haze of flashbulbs and self-destruction.

[JK Simmons] provides a little comic relief, and sums up my feelings on this whole outing: “Goddamn time-travelin’ robots!”

The romance between Winslet and Schoenaerts — billed as the film’s centerpiece — is, regrettably, never really allowed to bloom.

The facts (including Protess’ eventual resignation) still make this a worthwhile examination of a narrative that actually may have been too good to be true.

Burying the Ex is missing the key ingredient every good zombie movie needs: brains.

Schwartzman is perfect as Kurt, simultaneously compelling, ridiculous and creepy.

The tone and focus of David Gordon Green’s Manglehorn careens around so much it’s hard not to end up as irritable as its title character.

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

Tedious, amateurish and hilariously ill-timed film.