Tricia Olszewski

The film is a clunky and at times ridiculous affair, taking a situation that might reasonably happen and turning it into something melodramatic and ultimately unbelievable.

Shot in black and white and set mostly in a retail environment, the French-Canadian film gives off a “Clerks” vibe as the trio of protagonists slack off, bitch about pay, and talk about life and love.

A thriller without thrills is merely a drama, and The Wedding Guest is a dull drama at that.

Homelessness among military veterans is a noble subject for a filmmaker to take on. So it deserves a better vehicle than Sgt. Will Gardner, writer-director Max Martini’s clumsy and sometimes downright laughable portrayal of an injured Iraq war vet.

With zero romance and nonsensical thrills, the only legitimate theft here is of the viewer’s time.

Conroy wrote the book upon which the film is based and serves as the film’s central mouthpiece; full of twitchy, animated energy, he makes a terrific storyteller who’s boosted by Martin’s selection of found footage along with a minimum of jangly re-creations.

Chomko doesn’t drag on a scene longer than it should be; there’s an expediency to her storytelling that gets the point across without the film feeling rushed. It’s blunt and bold, just like its characters.

[A] charming romantic comedy.

Though it’s fun to watch Pullman and Huston sparring, it’s nearly as pleasant to watch their characters make up.

The couple’s talk about dreams deferred is too knee-jerk to warrant sympathy. And though a lot of quiet in between their squabbling is sometimes a relief, it ultimately points to an underdeveloped script that suggests it’s more profound than it is. These two are a little too comfortable with silences.

Crime + Punishment is essential viewing for anyone with a suspicion that there’s corruption in law enforcement.

Generation Wealth is ultimately a string of subjects in search of a binder. And the director’s interests don’t count.

Cummings may have taken the easy way out here and there, but she largely delivers a film that kinda sorta makes you think, which isn’t a characteristic the genre is known for. Throughout, your feel-good chemicals will be flowing.

You’ll be surprised to discover that it’s actually smartly written and expertly pulled off.

The finale, though a bit cheesy and decidedly telegraphed, is sweet and a welcome antidote to all the bare-skinned romping.

Even women will lose their man cards if they buy a ticket to Year by the Sea, a figurative and nearly retch-inducing celebration of the ovary based on a best-selling memoir by Joan Anderson.

Heslov, making her debut, therefore largely does an impressive job balancing the contestants’ deeply disturbing stories...with the near giddiness they express while getting dolled up. It’s infectious.

Although the filmmakers return to outsize wackiness too frequently, the film mercifully isn’t one chaotic gag after another.

In the end, human decency and resilience are this narrative’s common threads. And you needn’t have lost a loved one to recognize it.

Noxon, a TV veteran making her directorial debut here, had suffered from an eating disorder herself, as did the film’s star, Lily Collins. It’s surprising, then, that the script offers only generalities instead of any real insight.

The Bad Batch feels less like a coherent film and more like a pastiche.

Although Bell herself is fascinating, Letters From Baghdad is less so.

Shawkat breaks out subtleties that she’s never been able to show off in other roles.

Tower himself contributes to the film’s appeal. Still elegant in his mid-70s, there’s no doubt of his arrogance, though that seems to be a prerequisite of the trade. He knows that his work has been extraordinary, he’s well-spoken, and he cares intensely about decorum and class.

Little Boxes has good intentions if not the subtlest delivery.

Talk of accepting truths and moving on will knot your stomach; inevitably, you’ll reflect on your own station in life and weigh whether or not you feel like Ryota, who tells his son, “I’m not who I want to be yet.” And isn’t such evocation the point of all art? With this measure in mind, Kore-eda has created a masterpiece.

Though the strong performances of Nélisse and Wiggins are key to convince you that they not only care for each other but are capable of thinking on their feet, it’s Paxton who must deliver sufficient menace to propel the story — and he’s terrifying.

The most impressive aspect of James Franco’s In Dubious Battle is, by far, its cast.

Franco’s fantastic here. He gives a fieriness to Michael as a gay advocate, then seamlessly slides into borderline madness as he starts accepting that the “voice” he hears is God’s. Michael’s confusion is palpable and intense.

If you can block out that verbal frenzy, though, the last chapters of Antarctica: Ice & Sky are, finally, a compelling narrative (who wouldn’t be interested in the idea of “fossil air?”) and yet another scientific explanation of global warming.

Reset becomes incrementally less interesting as the performance pulls together; although it’s a visual feast to watch dancers in slow-motion executing seemingly impossible moves, the directors can only go to that well so many times before it gets a bit dull.

Ultimately, though, All We Had is exactly the kind of movie of which people say, “Oh well, its heart is in the right place.” A clichéd comment on a clichéd film: what could be more apt?

Despite its missteps, Coming Through the Rye is a sweet and inviting road trip.

Newtown, even coming nearly four years after the shooting, remains devastatingly timely.

This documentary may indeed stir outrage and encourage victims to report such crimes. But it’s still a song we’ve heard before.

Whereas Meera Menon’s film portrays the pitfalls that often await women who work in a predominantly male business, it’s also overcharged with so much grrrl power that it could blackout an entire Wall Street block.

The film’s two-plus-hour running time is a patience-tester.

To be fair, the unraveling of “Careful” is not the fault of the stars.

Kriegman and Steinberg’s incredible access allows you to ride the whole roller coaster.

It’s inarguable that some fans, somewhere, will relish every detail.

The bulk of these stories just aren’t very engaging — or even good.

Hiddleston, who does his own singing, doesn’t get to show off his chops very often. But when he does, the film comes alive, particularly when Williams finally makes it to the Opry.

Hawke is terrific as the jazz legend, so soft-spoken that he sometimes appears a little frightened of the people around him.

All the performances are terrific and lend the film a vérité so keen it may leave you as uncomfortable as the titular outcast.

The film offers one or two surprises. And when its humor lands, Rauch ensures that it sticks.

Mirren, as ever, is both polite and brusque, her petite va-va-voomness never undermining her credibility as a tough military top-ranker. And Rickman — oh, that dryly sarcastic voice.

Ergüven and her similarly green cast prove to be preternatural talents in delivering a story that’s simultaneously alarming and loads of tart-tongued fun.

Abbott (“A Most Violent Year,” HBO’s “Girls”) is a revelation, creating a multidimensional character whose battling, sometimes uncontrollable emotions are clear in his warm and expressive eyes.

Silva does manage to introduce discomfort slowly, but the manner in which things go very, very wrong is dealt with superficially.