Johns makes it all bearable. Inviting, even. His performance has such a gentle humanity, especially in the darkest scenes, that you can’t turn away. You don’t just root against the system. You root for him, and that’s an important distinction.

Weisz’s performance is what provides the tension. It’s impossible to read her — or, more accurately, it’s possible to misread her. That’s kind of the same thing, but not quite.

It Comes at Night is soaked in uncertainty. It makes us uncomfortable because we want answers and can’t have them. And if there’s anyone who knows how to make an audience uncomfortable, it’s writer and director Trey Edward Shults.

Call it a battle-of-the-sexes comedy set in a devout Orthodox community in Jerusalem. But, in its own quiet and friendly way, the film goes deeper than that, looking at how conservative religious views can clash with more moderate ways.

Ultimately, and perhaps most disappointingly, The Mummy winds up being not so much its own movie as what, by the end, feels like the first episode of a show that's already been renewed for several seasons. Because, in some respects, that's what it is.

In Wakefield’s mind, naturally, there is no life without him. It’s to Cranston’s credit that, at least for a couple of hours, we’re willing to play along.

I liked Dean. And I liked Martin’s direction. I just hope his next outing is a little more ambitious.

If the story is somewhat lacking, Cox is terrific.

Gadot is terrific, capturing perfectly the grace, power and heroism of the Amazonian princess who must make herself present in the world to save it.

This movie is exhausting.

As with any movie of this sort, there are a few laughs. Johnson is as likable an actor as there is, and it’s to the actors’ credit that they buy in to the stupidity. But there aren’t enough laughs and not nearly enough story.

Everything, Everything is a flawed film in many ways, but there is one that’s a deal breaker: It doesn’t make you cry.

Lane is an endearing performer, but she needs something, anything, to work with. Here, she's getting by on sheer likability.

Alien: Covenant is much better than “Prometheus,” in that it has plenty of scares and an actual plot, which, if sometimes predictable — all of these movies are in some ways the ultimate game of survival — is still satisfying.

3 Generations feels focus-grouped into existence, like its every development was fine-tuned to be as inoffensively on-message as possible in its treatment of trans issues. That’s good for take-home pamphlets and afterschool specials, but deadly to dramas.

Jacobs, while making a fairly funny movie, does not settle for easy answers or melodrama.

Liev Schreiber is outstanding as the title character, a big lug who can’t stay out of his own way.

There are some fun bits in the film. Law is kind of funny, in and over-the-top, does-he-mean-to-be-like-this way. Hunnam is game for playing Arthur. But Ritchie, in his attempt to ensure there’s never a dull moment, makes it all exhausting.

What a mess. Its meandering plot draws attention to the alarming lack of laughs — not what you look for in a supposed comedy.

Somewhere, deep inside Justice Served, there is the kernel of an interesting idea. But you've got to look hard, because the finished product is pretty dire stuff.

Artfully shot and mooded-up with a jittery ambient soundtrack, Risk is compelling because the enigma of Assange is compelling.

There are moments in The Dinner, Oren Moverman’s tense drama based on the Herman Koch novel, in which you sit back and watch four terrific actors go at it. There just aren’t enough of them.

Director Terence Davies dispenses of any gaudy romantic trappings and makes something much more beautiful in A Quiet Passion, a delicate and measured drama that plumbs the depths of the poet’s strange heart and the agony of her intelligence.

Writer and director Sarah Adina Smith’s vision is so confident, so sure, that it’s worth trusting her to see where the story goes. Plus, you get Rami Malek at no extra charge.

It’s the classic example of the sequel to a really imaginative original: If the first one didn’t exist, this one would seem revolutionary. But the first one does, and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, for all its charms, will live in its shadow.

On the Map is more like a sleepy lecture during the last week of high school: You may hear some worthwhile information, but it's not going to stick.

While Below Her Mouth is no doubt some classy-looking porn, it’s a pretty lousy movie, because all that sex leaves precious little time to develop character, plot or thematic depth.

Doesn’t plumb the depths of adolescent emotions and high-school politics so much as skims the surface in a psychedelic dinghy.

The acting is outstanding; Mungiu’s straightforward dialogue and naturalistic shooting make for a movie that feels genuine, with no false steps.

There are quite a few genuine laughs along the way. Director Ken Marino has a firm hand with big, silly slapstick, but he also knows how to make the most of dialogue.

Abe’s performance is compelling in the way it captures the gap between who Ryota has become and how he wants to see himself, and Japanese screen veteran Kirin Kiki gives a terrifically nuanced turns as his again mother, pulled between the disappointments of the past and a fierce determination to find joy in her present.

"Norman” takes a largely unlikable character and inserts him into the center of its story, a gambit that seems like a surefire recipe for disaster. It’s not, thanks to Richard Gere.

The movie just hits the nail on the head: that sense that we're just going through life, trying to navigate it the best way we can in each moment. There are a lot of things to love about Truman — including the dog — but that could be one of its best and biggest attributes.

Director and co-writer Terry George (“Hotel Rwanda”) tries his best to give the film an epic sweep, but he substitutes quantity of plot threads for quality of story.

The Lost City of Z is a throwback, an epic film about a grand adventure.

This cartoonishly violent exercise in cinematic hero worship comes at the audience with chambers loaded and fires off rounds too rapidly to worry about how vapid it all is.

Colossal is a monstrously imaginative movie with a premise so bizarre it’s amazing it ever got made. But it’s a good thing it did.

Really, the movie is the third cheeseburger, the fourth beer, the fifth ice-cream sandwich. It’s gluttony, which is kind of enjoyable when you’re in the middle of committing it but leaves you feeling sluggish and remorseful later when you’ve had time to think about it.

The Void is a horror film that goes off the rails — not by accident, but on purpose. And not just a little. It’s gloriously off the rails, unhinged, absolutely bonkers.

You know you're being manipulated but you don't really mind, because it's fun to watch this bunch work.

Going in Style will probably be a lot more enjoyable if you’ve never seen the original. It’s not that the remake is terrible. It’s cheerful and undemanding, and an appealing cast makes the time go by painlessly enough. But the 1979 film is poignant and layered.

This fully animated reboot embraces the Smurfs Saturday-morning-cartoon roots and creates a sprightly, brightly colored, age-appropriate adventure for young children fresh to the little blue woodland creatures.

Ghost in the Shell sidesteps questions of humanity and the effect of technology on the human spirit and opts instead for boilerplate sci-fi spectacle, eschewing existentialism for predictable plot and the glittery trappings of its 21st-century carapace

It’s a good movie about great heroism, and you wish it was more.

Naharin’s dances, amply illustrated from decades’ worth of film, is visceral, emotional and sometimes shocking.

The film gets gory toward the end, and as with most horror films, the climax isn’t as satisfying as the build-up. But Perkins builds layer after layer of dread, so that when an explosion finally occurs, it’s almost a twisted relief.

Part of the problem is that, in trying to convey the chaos of abject fear, Espinosa makes it hard to figure out the architecture of the ship, so we don’t know where anyone’s running.

It’s as if Boyle is saying he isn’t afraid to visit the past. And he does it about as successfully as one could — T2 is a movie worth seeing and enjoying if you’ve seen the first film (less so if you haven’t). What he’s not as successful at is telling us why.

The tone is so uneven, the shifts so jarring, that they overtake the movie’s modest pleasures.

Raw is a lot of things: a terrific feature debut by a promising filmmaker; an effective metaphor; an acting showcase; and, not least of all, a gross-out horror film.

Song to Song isn’t the sleepy disappointment Malick’s last two films were, but it’s hard not to wish he’d wake up.

CHIPS is a miserable movie, an exercise in stupidity that takes whatever nostalgia one had for the late-1970s television series – this assumes anyone actually had nostalgia for it — and beats it to death on a bed of idiocy. The action scenes, though, are pretty well-directed.

Personal Shopper draws you in, interesting from all angles.

At its best Power Rangers plays a little like a low-rent “Breakfast Club.” Unfortunately it’s not always at its best, and when it’s not, you get exactly what you’d expect: generic teen hero fare.

Love & Taxes is an odd little title for an odd little movie, and yet it delivers exactly what it promises. And in an entertaining way.

It’s quite good, thanks to the sturdiness of the story, the jaw-dropping visuals and, most importantly, the one thing the first film didn’t offer: Emma Watson.

The Sense of an Ending is a twisty tale of time and memory that owes most of its compelling nature to Jim Broadbent.

Table 19 is an odd little movie, and a frustrating one.

If it wasn’t for her, it would be near-unwatchable.

There are some funny bits here, and younger comics like Sarah Silverman push the limits even farther; to the minds of some, they cross them.

This isn’t a war movie; it’s an after-the-war movie. But the battle lines are still drawn, and every ragged breath the film takes braces for an explosion.

Kong: Skull Island is one of those movies best described as big, dumb fun.

The film is unexpectedly compelling, even if you’re not a teenage girl, though being one certainly wouldn’t hurt.

Logan is a serious take on the comic-book genre, the Marvel Cinematic Universe in particular, and it’s a good one. Not a great one, though, which it might've been if it hadn’t gotten in its own way, overdoing it with its R-rated freedoms.

Sneider, who keeps the tone starkly unsentimental, manages to stay fairly neutral with the couple. Both characters are wildly flawed, and you can feel your sympathies shift during their knock-down, drag-out fights.

Bitter Harvest, bless its low-budget heart, means well. But George Mendeluk’s film, about the Holodomor, the forced famine and starvation that killed between 7 and 10 million Ukrainians, falls well short of its ambitions.

The filmmaking is gorgeous and unsettling, giving the Midwest of the early 1980s a Gothic feel. The acting is hit or miss — two performances stand head and shoulders above the rest — but it’s the story that never quite gels.

A scathing examination of race, a take down of phony liberal sympathies that sticks it to racists of every stripe.

Its real accomplishment is that, with so much money behind it and a true visionary at the helm, it manages to feel so dated.

Verbinski manages some squirm-worthy moments, and cinematographer Bojan Bazelli creates a creepy look throughout. But the story doesn’t make sense as it goes along and then devolves into absurdity.

Despite all its noble qualities, the movie boasts a stiffness that keeps it from ever feeling fully alive.

Its importance lies in Baldwin’s insistence on exposing truths, many of them uncomfortable, many of them more urgent than ever.

Everybody Loves Somebody doesn’t reinvent the rom-com, but it manages to take the formula, shake it up a bit, and come up with something that feels fresh and inventive.

There are too many misses among the hits. Once you get past the premise, there’s not a lot farther to go

Reeves was born to this kind of role — quiet, moody, looks nice in black. He’s just as good as he was in the first film, because he’s exactly the same. In many ways, so is the film. That’s fine this time around, because John Wick: Chapter 2 is just as crazily entertaining.

This is a horrible movie. Which makes it not a lot different from the first film.

In terms of jokes per minute that land, it’s at least the equal of its predecessor.

It just feels desperate.

While the acting draws us into the story; it plays like a daytime soap opera with really good actors and Australian accents.

The performances are remarkable. So is the way Farhadi tells the story.

It seems unfinished, choppy, the storytelling almost of the after-school special variety.

The laughs don’t add up. There’s no dramatic arc. Jackie doesn’t grow or learn from his downfall, so much as bumble his way out of it to an unsatisfying conclusion.

Davis is not above manipulating the audience at the end of the film, but so what? It works. And that closing credit, man. Some things are worth waiting for.

McConaughey has become one of the more interesting actors around, someone whose next role is always worth checking out. But in Gold, the balance is off somehow — he’s acting up a storm, but a muddled story and hard-to-figure character ultimately betray him.

The characters are fully rounded, and you wind up emotionally invested in them.

Maren Ade's film, an Oscar nominee for best foreign-language film, is almost painful to watch at times, but it's also funny and touching and reflective of the world, all courtesy of Ade and terrific performances by Peter Simonischek as a goofy father who refuses to act his age and Sandra Hüller as his daughter, as buttoned-up as her dad isn't.

It’s often cloying, absurdly melodramatic, and the premise exists largely as a tear-manufacturing device.

The film is packed with moments of rank idiocy.

The Founder, John Lee Hancock’s film about Ray Kroc, is kind of a mess, which makes it perfect for the current political climate.

Paterson keeps plugging away, despite the intrusion of some outside forces. Making art is simply part of his makeup, and it makes Paterson a hopeful film.

You'll admire it and maybe even be astonished by its twisty nature, but that very twistiness can also feel more like a filmmaker showing off rather than something that emotionally engages a viewer.

After that streak of deadly misfires it’s nice to see Shyamalan enjoying himself again.

Think of Julieta as Pedro Almodovar unplugged. The director tones down somewhat his signature look (loud and busy colors) and vibe (heightened melodrama) for something a little more muted in this tale of loss and tragedy.

It’s refreshing to watch Bening, making the most of her best role in a long time.... It’s just an outstanding performance, and reason enough to see a movie whose charms are as unusual as its characters.

Patriots Day is a well-meaning, well-executed movie that tells the story of the Boston Marathon bombings of 2013 as a crime thriller — an interesting choice that works well, for the most part.

Live by Night is a mess. It’s got some interesting elements that Affleck, who wrote the script based on a Dennis Lehane novel, surprisingly can’t pull together. And, it must be said, his performance in the lead role isn’t up to snuff.

What we’re left with are a few PG-13 murders, uninspired performances, some not-so-scary urban legends and a couple of actresses who must be wondering how they got here.

It’s a uniquely affecting experience, and a uniquely affecting film. Cameraperson shows us the power of image as a tool of recording life, but also finds reasons that even in the worst situations, it’s still worth living.