Stephen Whitty

Director Stefano Sollima, who cut his teeth on Italian TV mob dramas, is good at building suspense. He fills the screen with striking images, too -- night-vision raids, heat-signature tracking, eye-in-the-sky surveillance.

Admittedly, Travolta, who produced, is sure having fun. What ham wouldn’t? Chewing on the scenery like it was a meatball hero, he swaggers around in shiny suits and silver wigs, barking orders.

The special effects remain startling, and in your face. But there's nothing new here, and what's old feels like less. The corporate villains seem to have wandered over from "Rampage." The humor has vanished.

Both charmingly retro (dig that swingin’ score!) and confidently modern (girls run the world!) it’s a hip heist movie with a few laughs and some lovely fun.

Right now, he's the perfect "Avengers" antidote.

The script is surprisingly smart, pulling together all the subplots and cutting among all the locations. Chris Pratt’s Star Lord has some clever lines. Thanos is a far more complex villain than we usually get. And the movie ends on a stark and shocking note.

Some movies are feasts. Some films are desserts. This picture is cheese in a can, and if it only accepted that, it would be a lot more fun — like “Alligator,” the tongue-in-cheek classic that had a toothy terror climbing out of a city sewer.

Pike is terrific, and Hamm has a credibly bleary, weary look. The movie’s ambitions are worthy. But it rarely turns its action into real excitement, or moves past cynicism into insight. It’s the spy movie that leaves us in the cold.

This may be a sci-fi fantasy about giant man-eating bugs, but it’s grounded in human facts and folly. Little here is safe. Nothing is predictable. It’s surprising how effectively the silence increases the scares, too.

The movie is crammed with excitement and good humor.

Too bad the new actress doesn’t bring much to the party, and this “origin story” feels like leftovers.

Director Ava DuVernay’s version of the beloved children’s classic has a big cast and the best of intentions. It’s socially progressive, racially diverse and packed with positive messages. It’s just not much fun.

But the real problem is that the picture feels padded. There are endless, and pointless, scenes of radio hosts debating the vigilante violence. And the wildly mismatched shoot-outs — every criminal Kersey goes up against is slow, stupid and a lousy shot — waters down the thrills.

People who crave a movie about a secret agent with her own sexual agency — and a mission to give male predators exactly what they deserve — are going to want front-row seats. And a sequel.

A lot of the jokes are surprising, and one gag...pays off terrifically. The two top stars are delightful, and a couple of cameos are nice surprises.

Luckily the latest episode to arrive, dubbed Fifty Shades Freed, is also the last. And good thing, too, because by now we’ve definitely gone 100 shades too far.

Grumpy T'Challa may be on the throne, but it’s the women who rule. And Michael B. Jordan adds fire as Killmonger.

Compared to a really great poker game, sometimes “Molly’s” comes up a little short. It definitely keeps you too long at the table. And there are times — like every Sorkin script — where it won’t stop talking. Really, buddy, shut up and deal...But when the chips are down, its stars come through. And in the end, we all walk away winners.

True, sometimes director Steven Spielberg lays it on so thick you think he has a trowel. Inspiring scenes are flooded with sunshine. John Williams’ score swells and kvells. (Of course, Spielberg didn’t become America's most popular director by being its subtlest.)

It’s not top Woody, perhaps. What is, anymore? But on a cold day, it’s as welcome as the familiar smell of greasy fries, the feel of gritty sand, the winking of those far-off colored lights.

Washington is terrific as Roman. The character may be unclear, but the actor’s commitment is focused, and his anger and indignation are sharp and painful.

The new Murder on the Orient Express isn’t a whodunit. It’s a why’d-they-do-it. Why make a new version of a perfectly good old movie if you’re not going to do anything new?

Inside the endlessly dull, oh-so-serious All I See Is You there’s a short, fun, trashy movie dying to get out. And dying. And dying.

Marshall makes a good case for its hero as one of the brightest, boldest lawyers to ever walk into a courtroom. So why is it sometimes such a trial?

A film based on a true story should have three things — strong characters, fierce conflict and a fresh angle. Battle of the Sexes serves up all of them.

The cast is a hoot, too. Tatum is full of easy charm but Adam Driver is even better as his brooding brother (clearly they’re sons of different mothers). There’s also a nice, out-of-character appearance by Katie Holmes, playing Logan’s hair-sprayed, hard-edged ex.

The Hitman’s Bodyguard is a movie for anyone who just wants to see Samuel L. Jackson curse, Ryan Reynolds smirk and Salma Hayek kick butt while looking absolutely incredible. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

The Dark Tower is simply dim.