It feels flat, disjointed, with too many moving parts.

DeCubellis sets up a satisfying, stylish mystery, populated by striking characters and situations.

It's a joy to watch Beckinsale attack the material — Lady Susan is one of those people whose interest in themselves and their own well-being is so great that it becomes contagious.

Osmond may tell the story to wring maximum emotion out of the audience, but so what? Isn’t that why people make these movies? It is. And more importantly, it’s why people watch them.

Lanthimos makes statements about the nature of love and relationships and their place in society, and there are fewer statements more important than those.

Screenwriter Jon Vitti and first-time directors Fergal Reilly and Clay Kaytis certainly give it a try, but their bag of tricks is mostly recycled and their sense of humor is aimed squarely at 12-year-old boys.

The porn, the drugs, the smog, the bad haircuts - you can play it for laughs or play it straight. With terrific performances from Ryan Gosling and Russell Crowe, Black does a little of both. The film is at once a nod to hard-boiled film noir and a send-up of it.

There’s a weird attempt at feminism here that doesn’t quite fly – basically it boils down to young women having every bit as much right to do bong hits all day and night as young men do – but at least there is an attempt.

A movie that never quite comes to life, despite its title.

The narrative feels undercooked, its life lessons just a bit too glib.

Jensen has a real gift for comedic editing, knowing just how long to play out a bit and when to move on. And Mikkelsen goes all in with his performance (as does everyone else).

There’s a jarring shift in tone and story in the last act, but the performances — particularly towering ones by a way-over-the-top Ralph Fiennes and an under-the-radar Tilda Swinton — perfectly balancing each other, carry the day.

The film whirs along with such entertaining efficiency that you may not realize that, by the end, it has shifted its blame in a manner that does not exactly betray a lack of courage in its convictions, but a willingness to let some of the bad guys off the hook.

The Man Who Knew Infinity is a good movie about a great subject, but one that should have been bett

Strangely, almost everyone must have been in the middle of some weird creative dry spell. Some stories are pretentious, some are annoyingly whimsical and some are just out-and-out obnoxious.

With The Family Fang, [Bateman] shows confidence with drama and, perhaps more impressively, with weirdness, never letting things get odd just for the sake of it. He wisely doesn’t force the issue. This bunch is plenty weird on its own.

I predict that within a decade, Mother’s and Daughters will be mandatory viewing at film schools across the country. There are precious few such perfect examples of how not to make a film.

Fun, happily, is one of the many ingredients in copious supply here.

The Meddler is one of those movies that surprises you by being something it’s not.

It’s an awkwardly constructed movie that doesn’t really gel.

It’s never a boring film to look at, but it is often a tiring one. Running over two hours, the film is bloated with portent and repetition, each story taking too long to get to its inevitable moral.

Yelchin and Poots are especially good.

If it’s not great — think of a sort of JV “Commitments” and you’ll have the idea — it is surely winning.

If Keanu sometimes comes off as another sketch stretched a little thin, that doesn’t put it in too shabby of company. It may not be as great as “The Blues Brothers,” but it’s up there with “Wayne’s World” — and light-years ahead of “Coneheads.”

It’s cute and entertaining, in a Saturday morning cartoon kind of way, but this one is just for the kiddies.

Perhaps because the bar was set so low, Mother’s Day turns out to be surprisingly watchable.

The film’s focus is too easily distracted by celebrity and turns less documentary and more fawning love letter to an industry already in love with itself.

It’s all too much without ever turning into much at all.