Weird: The Al Yankovic Story certainly earns its title, operating, appropriately, not as an actual movie biography but an outlandish parody of one, filled with comedy cameos and bizarre flights of fancy.

There's obviously a bit of calculation in introducing more depth to Poirot, making him more interesting for Branagh to play. Yet the filmmakers manage to incorporate that without detracting from the central mystery, and the pace chugs along briskly enough, with plenty of stunning scenery when outside those stuffy cruise rooms.

A warm if somewhat flat trip back in time that approximates the feel of the show's Christmas specials, only over-sized, and as cozy as a seat by the manor's fire.

Sorry/Not Sorry takes issue with both the supposition that nobody was really victimized by Louis C.K.’s actions and the mentality of first looking the other way amid what the comic initially dismissed as “rumors,” then welcoming him back.

Mulan is big, sumptuous entertainment. It's good, but not great, transforming the story associated with the 1998 animated musical into a song-free, live-action movie that's more adequate than transcendent -- a perfectly reasonable family-viewing investment that's worth seeing, but not necessarily a must-buy.

Wolfgang nicely demonstrates how its namesake fundamentally impacted the world of cooking – and especially how high-end food is perceived – while carving out a pretty sweet life for himself in the process. For that alone it’s worth watching, even if, as documentaries go, it’s less a main course than an appetizer.

Power makes an intellectual argument, but it’s built on a visceral foundation, purposefully bleeding from past generations into the current one.

What really defines the film is meeting the title character's other "family," whose members are equal parts colorfully eccentric and lethal.

Directed by actor and documentarian Fisher Stevens, "Palmer" certainly doesn't break any ground, but its simple story is sensitively told.

Part French sex comedy, part “American Pie”-like coming-of-age story, this raunchy vehicle for Jennifer Lawrence also possesses darker and deeper streaks that elevate it above its “Pretty. Awkward.” posters.

Slow to start, the movie taps into a genre of “What’s behind the curtain?” paranoia that’s provocative, if a little slim on detail.

There's some gorgeous imagery along the way, and a strong payoff after what amounts to the episodic nature of Raya's journey. But the film feels too conspicuously like a work by committee than one of inspiration (the film credits four directors or co-directors, and 10 names as having contributed to the story), missing the spark that has characterized the studio's best animated fare, including Pixar's recent "Soul."

Wish doesn’t quite reach the stars, but it does shine intermittently while introducing another plucky teenage female heroine, gamely voiced by Ariana DeBose.

Offering a weird mix of over-the-top violence and dark humor, Gunpowder Milkshake weds the spaghetti western with the colorful visuals of anime, enhancing that with an inordinately good cast for such a silly movie. The net result provides considerable fun.

The film has an old-fashioned “B movie” vibe, which, for a project headed straight to Netflix, is almost exactly as it should be. As for the feminist message wrapped into the premise, it’s merely further evidence that Brown, at the ripe old age of 20, looks like a boss both on screen and off.

Jungle Cruise delivers about as ably as it possibly could, creating a light-hearted adventure that owes as much to “The Mummy” as anything in Disney’s fleet.

A polished and satisfying film, yet one that conspicuously feels even more like a consumer product than most Disney revivals of its animated classics.

"Dark Fate" earns its favorable judgment by cleverly and effectively adding to that legacy. The only drawback is that accomplishment merely makes it more likely that in one form or another, sooner or later, yep, they'll be back.

The images of the US turned into a war-torn country provides a sobering dystopian backdrop for an action movie that works on that level, without lingering in the mind as long as it could or should have.

No Sudden Move fares better with the quirky, unpredictable nature of the characters, the impeccable period touches -- from the overall look to the music -- and disarmingly witty bits of dialogue.

Trevor: The Musical can't help but feel partly encumbered by the "important" label, bringing lessons about self-acceptance to Disney+, whose parent company has been a ripe target for controversy. Yet this filmed version of the off-Broadway show works as a triumph for the young cast and especially the relatable lead, powering past its lesser aspects with infectious energy and a touching message.

There's nary a note of surprise to be found, but the heroism and man-dog bond carry the movie along.

It's an intense experience, one whose focus is undeniably stirring but which leaves certain aspects of Blair's life and resume somewhat underdeveloped.

Moss, whose gift for speaking volumes with purposeful stares is well-documented on "The Handmaid's Tale," perfectly captures the sense of invasion Cecelia feels, and at first, helplessness. Her growing strength, in the face of such an overwhelming threat, is the movie's most empowering element.

Granted, the overall exercise feels more efficient than inspired, but there’s something to be said for that sort of workmanlike ethic in an old-fashioned “B” movie fashion. Those attributes don’t necessarily merit rushing out to buy a ticket, but wherever and whenever one ends up boarding this flight, taken on its terms, it’s not a bad trip.

To its credit, this two hour, 43-minute movie (thus making the title a bit of a lie) assiduously builds on everything that the recent Bond movies have established, in a way earlier incarnations generally didn't. That has deepened the character, allowing Bond to experience grief, loss and love without hitting the reset button, the recurrence of the villainous Blofeld notwithstanding.

Pixar's enviable track record with original animation is a mixed blessing, creating sky-high expectations for each new movie. Onward, an undeniably emotional and imaginative concept, joins that rich tradition, without reaching the upper rungs of the ladder set by its predecessors.

The Equalizer 3 might not be totally convincing as a “final” anything; still, the latest outing does have the benefit of feeling like it reaches a nice point at which to close the books for now on Robert McCall, all things, you know, being equal.