The story doesn't really have a focused plot.

When every aspect of a movie comes together, it's a beautiful sight.

McEwan, as is his wont, aims for something bigger here, the bigger questions — the biggest, even, of life and death. Thanks to Thompson’s outstanding performance, he mostly achieves what he sets out for.

More than anything, The Sisters Brothers is an exploration of how far you can take an anti-Western before it snaps out of the genre’s orbit entirely.

This brand of gonzo journalism was effective in Moore’s 1989 debut about Flint and General Motors, “Roger & Me,” but it has long since devolved into self-parody.

It’s the kind of movie that, if you give yourself to it, you’ll love.

Life Itself is one of the worst kind of bad movies, because it achieves nothing that it sets out to do.

As a love letter to a talented and endearing soul, it's hard to fault Love, Gilda. Like its subject, it feels remarkably honest and genuine.

Purely from a standpoint of craft and storytelling, it’s a good flick, although maybe not well attuned to the bombastic times.

Despite a solid storyline that adds to the series with a lively team of characters, there are parts of the film that could've been better.

If Greene had simply told the story in more straightforward documentary fashion, Bisbee ’17 would be an interesting film. By telling the story within the story, he’s done something more: He’s made an urgent, powerful one.

For all its ludicrous plot twists and a mystery that falls too conveniently into place, A Simple Favor is just fun. It's light and frothy.

From its beginning, Mandy is an unsettling, acquired taste.... It's not afraid to let the camera linger on gore or draw out dialogue in creepy tones with ice-cold stares. And that's where this movie wins.

The story has potential and the acting is good, but the buildup is thrown away as the movie draws to a close. It feels divided, as if it were two different films.

If it balanced out the wild drinking, dancing and sexual scenes with moments that dug under the characters' surface, it could've been a more solid film.

Watching unpleasant characters onscreen isn't always a fun experience, so casting Reeves and Ryder is genius. They're both full-on movie stars: charismatic, wildly photogenic, the whole nine yards. But they're also good actors, and they make these two neurotic misanthropes quite engaging.

Like nine out of 10 faith-based films, it lets the message crowd out the other elements of good art: character development, thematic complexity, even basics such as a compelling conflict.

Despite competent performances all around, you never feel much chemistry between the actors.

Gleeson is terrific as Faraday struggles — with his feelings for Caroline, with her feelings for him, with the notion that some of what’s going on at Hundreds Hall may not have a rational explanation. The evolution of his character is subtle, but hauntingly effective.

Searching is a thriller with a gimmick. The entire story takes place on screens — we see the action play out on devices like laptops and phones. But the movie never feels gimmicky, which is perhaps the neatest feat achieved by first-time director Aneesh Chaganty.

The acting is great, but screenwriter Matthew Orton’s attempts to give the film the philosophical heft that it deserve fall somewhat short.

A compelling film, and an excruciatingly entertaining one.

Byrne is a delight.

What we see onscreen instead is mere competence, handsomely shot but bereft of purpose. One gets the sense that it was remade for no other reason than because more tolerant 21st-century content standards mean you can spill a man’s guts onscreen.

It's entertaining enough to see once, just to say you've seen it. But it surely isn't for everyone. You've got to have a dark and dirty sense of humor.

Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood is a fascinating and undeniably irresistible look into that world. You just feel, despite Bowers' sunny disposition, a little dirty about enjoying it.

It delivers plenty of exciting action with some CGI-assisted visual flair, from stampeding bison to a starkly beautiful image of a frozen lake with our hero flailing on the wrong side of the ice. Hughes’ efforts to bring emotional drama to the proceedings fall flat, however, relying on coming-of-age clichés that strip the story of any real surprise.

It's a smart, well-crafted tale that is thoroughly contemporary, yet somewhat old-school in that it doesn't go for cheap shocks. Instead, the emphasis is on mood, atmosphere and some sharply etched characterizations.

What's most enjoyable about Crazy Rich Asians is that, while it never forfeits its sense of responsibility, it also never forfeits its sense of fun. Chu wants you to slobber over the settings, to imagine what a life like this might be like — and to ensure that being Asian is a part of that.

Dark Money exposes the dangers of unbridled, anonymous political spending so expertly that it will make you fume with anger, practically quake with distress. Which is exactly why you need to see it.

The movie is a big disappointment, because ultimately Slender Man does not get the full-on creep-out treatment such an intriguing character deserves. Here he's just a generic horror bad guy, doing standard horror-bad-guy things. He could be anything, really, and therefore winds up, like the movie, being not much.

Whether you like The Meg depends on how much you like seeing Jason Statham in and out of a wetsuit, doing action-hero things. He's certainly good at it, and he's the best thing about the movie, not that the competition is particularly fierce.

BlacKkKlansman is Spike Lee’s best movie in years, bringing together everything that makes him such a dynamic, exciting, urgent filmmaker – as well as some of what can drive you crazy about him, too.

Dog Days isn't so much a movie as an emotional delivery system, meant to make you laugh a little, cry a little and say, "Awww" about 10,000 times. On that front, it's a complete success. As an actual film, well, not so much.

Christopher Robin takes a classic story with characters people know and love and breathes new life into them, delivering an important reminder to balance life and all its qualities through strong symbolism.

McQueen is an intriguing look at genius, its inspiration and ultimately its cost.

Puzzle just kind of chugs along at its own pace, one of those small movies that packs a bigger punch, one in which, sorry, all the pieces fit.

It’s formulaic. It’s predictable.

D'Souza fans and Trump apologists will flock to this, misguided moths to a misleading flame. In that way, it's a perfect representation of the current climate. In every other way, it's a mess.

Perhaps the problem isn’t one of too little ambition, but of too much. The Spy Who Dumped Me is, after all, trying earnestly to be about half a dozen different things: a buddy comedy, a spy drama, a raunch fest, a thrilling action film. It’s just that it doesn't have the focus to do any of those things particularly well.

Whether it’s the next in a long line or a summation of a fun series, Mission: Impossible — Fallout is a movie that all but defines escapism at its finest.

With bright colors and jokes that are delivered quicker than you can process them, kids will enjoy this. Even though there are overwhelming changes in animation style, it's never boring to look at.

This “Mamma Mia” takes a lot of the original’s qualities and then amplifies them to the nth degree. It’s bigger and crazier, and the emotions actually seem to run a bit deeper at times.

It could be a really showy role, but Phoenix is patient, letting the character, and the audience, come to him. It's a journey worth taking.

What elevates this sequel are stakes.

The transition between junior high and high school is exhilarating, traumatic, funny and horrifying, and Bo Burnham's Eighth Grade captures the whole experience perfectly.

Journalists deserve to be heralded — just not in this holier-than-thou cinematic cri de coeur. So, on behalf of journalists everywhere, I have to tell Mr. Reiner thanks, but no thanks.

The King is one of those films that we sometimes see being made while they're making it.

Hotel Transylvania 3 is a harmless enough excuse for a couple hours of air-conditioned entertainment, which is all some people ask of a kid’s film. But there’s something bleak about its banality.

Johnson is his usual amiable self, but the best thing about the movie is Campbell.

Sorry to Bother You, Boots Riley's see-it-to-believe-it feature debut as a director, goes from agreeably strange to weird to surreal, but its brilliance lies in how it never stops feeling real, genuine, lived-in.

It's clear-eyed and remarkably honest, and Macdonald shows a flair for illustrating how Houston's life fits in the bigger picture

As with most prequels, there's ultimately not a lot of suspense, since we know what's going to happen in the next installments. Tell us something something to care about.

Much like "Ant-Man," it's a kind of pressure-relief valve, coasting on Paul Rudd's goofy charm. That's more on display than in the first film; returning director Peyton Reed manages not to shrink Rudd's appeal when he shrinks his character.

Sicario: Day of the Soldado is exciting, and still delivers nihilistic thrills. But this time around, the filmmakers are satisfied with that and not much more.

The commercials were funny and unexpected. The movie, not so much, although there are some solid laughs.

From this film, viewers will see a never-ending domino effect on agriculture's effect on the environment, quality in produce and overall health of the animals and the humans that consume them.

Just when you're ready to throw in the towel, Plummer does something that keeps you going; maybe it's the quietly affecting way Jack turns up the twinkly charm as age and illness are starting to take things away. Then there's Farmiga's ability to mine a laugh out of angst and yet remain human, and MacDougall's sly, sleepy charm.

Leave No Trace is a beautiful film, heartbreaking in the self-awareness — both existing and burgeoning — of its characters.

There’s a prayer repeated throughout the film: “blessed be the goddess of all worlds that has not made me a man.” Well, blessed be the goddess of all worlds that has let me survive this film.

The imagery is romantically period, with textured scenes staged in handsomely lit smoke-filled rooms, its newsreels and baseball stadiums suffused with charming Americana. But you can’t root for set design or feel empathy for colored filters. You need human beings for that, and The Catcher Was a Spy keeps its heart under lock and key.

J.A. Bayona's film never figures out what it wants to be, casting about for a coherent tone. Thanks in large part to Derek Connolly and Colin Trevorrow's script, it doesn't find one. But at least it has some fun making the effort.

A Kid Like Jake, isn't terrible, but it sure could be better.

You’ve heard this song before and can predict all the emotional high notes before they hit, but sometimes that’s all you need from a summer bop.

It’s a film entirely lacking in pomp, but there’s a certain bravado in its delicate reservation. A tender and spare meditation on family unfurls in the stillness of a sleepy, sun-soaked Spanish summer.

The biggest problem is the whiplash-inducing tonal shifts. Director Jeff Tomsic, working from a script by Mark Steilen and Rob McKittrick, swings from violent slapstick to tender moments in slapdash fashion. You can’t get a handle on it, though maybe that’s fitting in a movie about trying to keep from being tagged.

It’s good — funny, smart and contemporary. By definition it can’t be as groundbreaking as the first film, but never does it feel like a cash grab.

Mostly it's brilliant, challenging, deliberate, scary as all get out. It's as much a portrait of a dysfunctional family as it is a horror movie. But don't let that relax you. It's definitely a horror movie.

It’s befuddling that such a barrier-breaking filmmaker would make a biopic about a woman who shares similar daring qualities that’s so … ordinary. To make boring the revelries of 19th century literati is no mean feat, but it is Mary Shelley's chief accomplishment.

Writer and director Drew Pearce makes his feature debut in a confused, jumbled film that never quite gets its story straight.

Neville, who won an Oscar for "20 Feet from Stardom," could have gone a different route, maybe try to dig up some dirt. But there really doesn't seem to be any. I don't know if it's Rogers' influence, but I like this film just the way it is.

Thanks to Layton's filmmaking choices, American Animals ends up being not so much a crime movie as an examination of truth and memory, as well as blame and responsibility. And it's a lot better for it.

Bullock’s performance anchors the movie — and nearly drags it down. Ocean’s 8 has the cast, and the cultural moment, it needs. It just doesn’t do enough with it.

Despite predictability, flashback hopping and cheesy lines, Adrift takes viewers on a trip through beautiful cinematography and gut-wrenching performances that are worth seeing.

Paul Schrader’s First Reformed is an amazing examination of faith, a film that stays with you long after you have left the theater.

It’s one part history lesson and one part ode to the rapidly fading quality of refinement. But mostly, it’s a chance to indulge in juicy celebrity stories, catnip for those who love that kind of thing.

On Chesil Beach, Dominic Cooke’s adaptation of Ian McEwan’s bestseller, features a couple of outstanding performances, but you have to suffer through some serious heartbreak to enjoy them. If “enjoy” is even the word. This is seriously depressing stuff. But good! Really. Don’t let the downbeat vibe scare you off.

There are shortcomings in this film, and most of them are Wenders’ responsibility. But there is also inspiration here, if you’re willing to look for it.

These supremely talented women are put through embarrassing paces by director and co-writer Bill Holderman. It’s meant to be a film about a reawakening of desire, and thus life. It turns out to be a wince-inducing mess.

Denis (“Beau Travail,” “35 Shots of Rum”) is a very particular filmmaker, forcing you to adjust to her rhythms. Never is that more apparent than the last scene, which goes on for a quarter of the film or more, right through the end credits and beyond.

On the whole it’s a remarkably controlled exercise. It’s to the film’s credit that Moll is the center of attention from start to finish, and not even a romantically damaged bad boy can steal the spotlight from her barely contained wildfire of emotions.

Yes, it recalls “Turner and Hooch,” a movie Show Dogs references so many times you start to feel nostalgic for it. And when you find yourself longing for “Turner and Hooch,” things are very bleak indeed.

A perfectly capable movie that has chases and romance and double-crosses and double-double-crosses and action and is, ultimately, absolutely inessential.

Deadpool 2 is, above all else, a lot of fun. (And yes, you must stay for the post-credit scenes.) Sometimes it maybe doesn’t take itself seriously enough (after about the 50th crack you do kind of want to tell Reynolds to hold off for a minute). But in a genre that takes itself so deadly seriously, this is like a breath of fresh air.

Breaking In is a shallow nod to female empowerment, not the embodiment of it.

The case is a gut punch to the American dream, and yet Little Pink House is a tepid viewing experience, in part because it rarely invites us into these homes so we can lament their loss.

The elements are in place for a decent little movie, but Loach overplays everything, offering nothing in the way of surprises. Bobby’s supposed transformation isn’t particularly revelatory, but then, neither is anything else.

What’s as striking as the violence is Fargeat’s confidence as a filmmaker. She risks absurdity at every turn, fearlessly daring the audience to accept unlikely scenarios. Take that challenge. However difficult “Revenge” may be to watch at times, it’s worth it.

Racer and the Jailbird, the inelegantly translated title of “Le Fidele,” is a first-rate caper movie. It’s also a pretty good romance. And a boring, suffocating melodrama.

It’s a movie devoid of storytelling momentum, conflict and, worst of all, much in the way of laughs.

The best thing about Ghost Stories — and there are a lot of good things — is the confidence of its directors.

Lelio, who also directed the excellent “Gloria” and last year’s Oscar winner for best foreign film, “A Fantastic Woman,” never shortchanges the desire or the faith, a neat balancing act between the competing elements at the heart of Disobedience, and the success of which makes it so compelling and worthwhile.

RBG, Betsy West and Julie Cohen’s engrossing documentary about Ruth Bader Ginsburg, is clearly meant to praise the 85-year-old Supreme Court justice, and it does a fine job of it.

Some surprises are more effective than others. But what holds the film together are a couple of really strong performances by Charlize Theron and Mackenzie Davis. They have a terrific, and unique, chemistry that helps smooth over a few rough patches.

Bad Samaritan is a horrible little movie with two things going for it: one wigged-out performance and one genuinely terrific line that's so great, you want to be able to say that it saves the film.

Writers and directors Bob Fisher and Rob Greenberg don't do anything particularly clever or inspired, but they display a knack for snappy dialogue and draw solid work from the cast. It's enjoyable watching Leonardo and Kate draw closer together, and the film's emotional moments strike the right notes.

For a film that atonally screams praises of the destructive power of punk rock, The House of Tomorrow is disappointingly, if crowd-pleasingly, textbook. The pedestrian narrative still makes for a winsome coming-of-age tale, buoyed as it is by a talented cast and visually striking setting.

Both Garrel and Martin are good. And it’s important to note that Hazanavicius is quite adept at the comedic bits, as well as at the occasional more-serious scenes, which deal with the disintegration of the marriage. The problem is his inability to merge the disparate tones.