Like Superman when he’s first brought back to life, the new Justice League isn’t necessarily better than the original, but it’s different and darker, markedly so.

[This] timely documentary is less persuasive about translating logic into political and economic reality.

Joe Bell never quite packs the dramatic punch the real-life story deserves.

By the time we reach the insanely dubious final twist of The Voyeurs, we’d rather just look the other way.

It is not what's there on the screen that disappoints me, but what's not there.

The movie is lightweight, as it should be.

The result is not quite a documentary and not quite a drama, but interesting all the same. It uses the approach of Haskell Wexler's "Medium Cool" (1969), but without the same urgency.

Reddy’s story is given the standard, time-honored biopic treatment in I Am Woman, which checks off just about every cliché imaginable — and yet wins us over, in large part due to the star-power performance of Tilda Cobham-Hervey as Reddy.

The very embodiment of a star vehicle: a movie with a preposterous plot, exotic locations, absurd action sequences, and so much chemistry between attractive actors that we don't care.

For one of the few times in Eastwood’s career as a director, he seems indecisive about what kind of movie he wanted to make.

But if you do not have some secret place in your soul that still responds even a little to brave cowboys, beautiful princesses and noble horses, then you are way too grown up and need to cut back on cable news.

There is no rhythm to the movie, no ebb and flow; it's all flat-out spectacle.

I object to the movie not on sociological grounds but because I suspect a real geisha house floated on currents deeper and more subtle than the broad melodrama on display here.

The animation is nicely stylized and the color palette well-chosen, although the humans are so square-jawed, they make Dick Tracy look like Andy Gump. The voice performances are persuasive. The obvious drawback is that the film is in 3-D. If you can find a theater showing it in 2-D, seek it out.

This is a weird, uneven, generally intriguing thriller about a young man whose fantasy life is totally controlled by images from movies.

The film establishes a bland, reassuring, comforting Brady reality - a certain muted tone that works just fine but needs, I think, a bleaker contrast from outside to fully exploit the humor.

There is something powerful and elemental in the appeal of gold, especially somebody else's buried treasure, and it plugs holes in the plot that no base metal could possibly cover.

There is a wise and understanding teacher on the faculty, played by Anjelica Huston. Defending the work of Dead White Males, she sensibly observes that when they did their best work "they weren't dead yet."

Though this is the cinematic equivalent of an album of cover tunes by artists who have created much more dazzling original work, it’s a sweet, smart and funny confection.

It has its laughs, but it’s a more thoughtful film, more softhearted toward its characters. It’s warm and poignant.

So I Married an Axe Murderer is a mediocre movie with a good one trapped inside, wildly signaling to be set free. The good movie involves a droll and eccentric Scottish-American family whose household embraces more of the trappings of Scottishness than your average Glasgow souvenir shop. The bad movie is about a young man's romance with a woman he comes to suspect is an ax murderer.

Sparkle isn't blindingly original but it delivers solid entertainment, and despite the clichés I was never for a moment bored.

Here is a gaudy vomitorium of a movie, violent, nauseating and really a pretty good example of its genre. If you are a hardened horror movie fan capable of appreciating skill and wit in the service of the deliberately disgusting, The Devil's Rejects may exercise a certain strange charm.

What this movie needs is a clear, spare, logical screenplay. It's all inspiration and no discipline.

Bad Grandpa obviously is not for everyone, but Johnny Knoxville and “Jackass” fans will eat it up.

Writer-director Jonathan Jakubowicz’s Hands of Stone is a rousing, well-filmed and solid (if at times overly generous to Duran) biopic with a bounty of charismatic performances, two of the sexier scenes of the year, some welcome laughs and a few above average fight sequences.

Goodbye Christopher Robin is a film of rough edges and jagged twists, at times beautiful to behold but more often shot in jarring close-ups that make Christopher Robin’s parents look like the villains in a gothic horror film.

A glorious romantic fantasy, aflame with passion and bittersweet longing.