What ensues, though, is essentially a rather low-octane thriller, punctuated by trips down memory lane. And while there are some fine moments buried within all that -- some showcasing Gilligan's quirky streak, like an incongruous rendition of the song "Sharing the Night Together" -- it still feels a trifle unnecessary.

A movie that emphasizes its experiential and 3D qualities but lacks depth on every other front.

Fittingly, for a story about wandering around in a field, it winds up going nowhere.

Director Todd Phillips is best known for "The Hangover" trilogy, and has seemingly overcompensated for his comedy roots by delivering a movie virtually devoid of humor.

The Laundromat makes a pointed political statement, while spinning out a garbled mess of a movie. In the process, director Steven Soderbergh mostly squanders a cast toplined by Meryl Streep, in a Netflix film that plays like a darkly satiric connection of vignettes that lost something -- mostly, a coherent narrative -- in the rinse cycle.

The simplicity of the premise puts more pressure on the animation, which is crisp and occasionally beautiful, but not especially imaginative in its design.

Judy is well worth seeing, if not necessarily rushing to a theater to experience, thanks to Zellweger's uncanny ability to replicate Garland's quirks and still locate the humanity and fragility within her.

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.

Where's My Roy Cohn? is by no means a flattering portrait; rather, the film portrays Cohn as being emblematic of everything that's wrong with politics, class disparity and the current toxic political environment. Were he still around, though, it goes without saying that Cohn would characterize the project as a stunning victory.

It's a well-made, provocative movie. And in a great big universe searching for intelligent content, one would hope there's still room for that.

The Goldfinch has a painting at its center, but despite a classy palette of ingredients conjures a lifeless, disjointed picture. Adapted from a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, the movie represents a transparent bid to bring the book's prestige to the screen, but it's another case of literary underpinnings being lost in translation.

At its core, though, is a solid caper movie rooted in the challenges associated with running any criminal enterprise -- a more modest version of "Goodfellas," with less blood, and more skin.

It drags on nearly three hours, until a level of numbing repetition creeps into its elaborately staged scares.

It's a nuanced, thought-provoking documentary.

Whether it's on a large screen now or a small one later, Blinded by the Light represents such a sweet, easy-to-relate-to story that it deserves to be seen, at the least, by anyone who has shown a little faith that there's magic in the arts -- either in music, or a darkened theater.

"Where'd You Go, Bernadette" offers a solid showcase for Cate Blanchett, in a movie that's notably slight, but finally sweet and touching.

Yet even with the occasional dollop of dog-related humor, The Art of Racing in the Rain feels as ponderous as its title. While there have been plenty of movies that touch the heart through the relationship with our four-footed friends, if this one doesn't completely hit the skids, nor is it close to being the pick of the litter.

A sort of welcome throwback, a horror movie cleverly designed to be more spooky than truly grisly. That leaves it, however, in a bit of a no-man's land, as this PG-13-rated film is still too scary for the tweens that might be drawn to the challenge and not jarring enough for older horror buffs accustomed to far worse.

A half-baked mob drama.

Fast & Furious Presents: Hobbs & Shaw is an awfully long-winded title for a movie with roughly the same plot as the 1989 squabbling buddy vehicle "Tango & Cash," only with bigger -- well, pretty much everything -- and better special effects.

For those well-versed in the writer-director's work, it's a credible and intriguing addition to his filmography. Yet at 2 hours and 41 minutes, it also feels too leisurely in connecting its threads, especially compared to the crispness of something like the World War II epic "Inglourious Basterds."

A small, melancholy movie that explores cultural differences and dealing with death in an utterly charming, understated manner.

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

The problem is that those pulling Child's Play's strings don't consistently commit to anything other than the gore.

Even grading on a curve, though, Murder Mystery is a tired, bordering on tiresome endeavor -- feeling like the pilot for a not-very-good TV show -- as well as a reminder that Netflix's content buffet caters to all kinds of tastes.

Toy Story 4 delivers a cinematic grand slam, a nine-years-later sequel that's wholly equal to the high expectations raised by the terrific trio that it follows. Touching, raucously funny, adventurous and yes, even profound, Pixar's signature property once again touches them all.

A private eye who's "a sex machine to all the chicks," as the song went back in 1971, isn't exactly tailor-made to 2019. The new "Shaft" plays with that tension but yields mixed results, in an action comedy that's neither consistently funny nor especially exciting, despite Samuel L. Jackson's second stab at the part.

The movie conjures some of the goofy charms associated with the franchise, but sags in its midsection like "Endgame"-vintage Thor before nicely rallying at the finish.