If Dumbo 2.0 does have to exist, then you could do far worse than this sweet and occasionally quite nifty revamping.

Family succeeds, for the most part, because of and not despite the sheer familiarity of its hoary storyline.

Tonally one of the strangest films of the year thus far, Project X is at heart a John Hughes-esque celebration of that fleeting teenage moment prior to actual adulthood when throwing a badass backyard party could instantaneously elevate your social status, and cement bonds of friendship that would last a lifetime, and get you laid all in one go.

Bosco and Coffman make a convincing argument that only Mary Flannery O'Connor could become Flannery O'Connor. Some of her works would probably be unpublishable now, but she isn't writing them now. If she'd survived past 39, maybe the next book after The Violent Bear It Away would have been very different. But, they posit, the Flannery O'Connor we have is the Flannery O'Connor we got, and maybe the one we deserved.

Buena Vista Social Club is obviously intended less as a concert film than as a set of cinematic liner notes about the vanishing musical culture.

Aja's version, while a killer ride in its own right, never manages the nagging subtexts Craven so handily injected into the proceedings. It's a topnotch nightmare, but this time you wake up.

King Car has moxie and its heart is in the right place, even if it feels like dialectic materialism for motorheads.

If anything gets lost in the mayhem, it’s Johnson’s reliably charming personality.

Bombshell’s ultimate punch lands more like a spectacular bottle rocket than a scorching Molotov cocktail.

The balloon will resurface throughout, but far more interesting, and substantial, is the slow reveal of Simon's domestic situation.

It’s an impressive closing to the cycle, and, frankly, one that arrives not a moment too soon.

A sterling example of what Hollywood can accomplish when it puts its trust into an offbeat project whose creative team has a different perspective on American life.

Henderson's warm and toasty little gem of a film, slight though it may be, reminds you that the Greatest Generation, full of vim, vigor, and – most important – an indefatigable sense of purpose, grew up on both sides of the Big Pond.

Satan & Adam eschews ebony-and-ivory banality to depict a friendship that refuses to be tinted in black and white.

Loud, rollicking, alternately ultra-violent and hilarious, Escape from L.A. is Snake redux, and what more do you need, really?

The film's joy is in its earnest simplicity.

The person I most connected with for most of Mr. Fish: Cartooning From the Deep End was not the artist, railing against the man, but his wife, Diana Day, sweating their debt, working the job that gets them and their twin daughters health insurance, doing the dirty work that enables him to stand on his principles.

A screen spectacle that beseeches its audience for adoration and mass acceptance.

That Silo centers around the people of the town is what differentiates it from a media satire like Ace in the Hole, and places it alongside The Straight Story, God's Own Country, and Minari: films that feel like studies of rural life.

Like the disco sounds that accompany the end of Gloria, this film seems a bit superficial.

Director Francis Ford Coppola, who established his towering reputation with an adaptation of another pulpy pop novel, hasn't exactly uncorked another The Godfather here.

Kingpin is no classic, but I've got to admit that after sitting though a number of the film's less-than-inspiring previews over the last few weeks, I wasn't exactly expecting the second coming of Laurel and Hardy.

Surprisingly fresh and charming overall.

It manages to be a watchable, even enjoyable movie about and for girls, and in our world of candy-coated sparkly pink c---, that's a rare and commendable thing.

It’s not just that it’s a great thriller. Its importance as a film is that it really weaves the lead character’s disability into the script, in a way that arguably wasn’t equaled in the subgenre until Mike Flanagan wrote a deaf heroine for Hush.

A host of A-list stars have been enlisted to play small roles in a bid for viewer engagement. See Mariah Carey in a blink-or-you’ll-miss-her role as Cecil Gaines’ maltreated mother.

Other than the unsatisfactory ending, however, there's much that is commendable in the The Italian, not the least of which are its social criticisms of the buying and selling of children through the adoption businesses currently thriving in Russia and neighboring eastern European countries. In some respects, unfortunately, not much has changed since the world was introduced to little Oliver Twist nearly two centuries ago.

Writers Sara Pariott & Josann McGibbon and director Donald Petrie know how life is lived - tending to details - and have packed the film with them, such that it almost works as a slice of suburban life.