Writer-director Christopher Nolan’s epic film essentially consists of three chapters, with the middle, Atlas-like, holding up the weaker, drawn-out beginning and end.

“Barbie” comes roaring out of the gate with an inventiveness and energy the movie perhaps inevitably can’t sustain. Amid all the hype that has made its release an increasingly rare movie-going occasion, director Greta Gerwig’s film proves an admirably ambitious attempt to ponder where Barbie fits in the 21st century – less than it could be, but pretty close to being what it should be.

The requisite thrills are there, as well as the flourishes that audiences have come to expect from the “Mission: Impossible” franchise, from the ornate masks and disguises (a staple of the original show too) to the death-defying stunts (clearly a made-for-the-movies upgrade to the formula).

Built around a predominantly Asian-American cast, it’s so determined to be crude and edgy that while its friendship dynamic lingers, its initial cleverness gets left in the rear-view mirror.

While the documentary doesn’t break much new ground, Kijak generally finds the right balance between the salacious elements and Hollywood nostalgia that remain inextricably intertwined in Hudson’s story.

For Cox, a veteran actor with no mountains left to climb and few concerns about speaking his mind, Prisoner’s Daughter plays like one of those movies where you just take the money and run.

The story certainly doesn’t break new ground, and given the modest nature of the movie, there’s a bit of impatience to get where it’s going; still, thanks to Snook and LaTorre’s beyond-her-years performance it’s never less than watchable.

Feeling the years and the miles, Harrison Ford cracks the whip for the last time, in a film that offers the requisite thrills and proves fairly emotional before it’s over.

The Perfect Find falls well short of perfection, but it’s the kind of low-key romance that often finds an appreciative audience on Netflix.

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.

The sequel, Extraction 2, hammers away at the same basic outline, while feeling particularly simple minded even by the standards of the genre.

Like other self-referential horror/comedies (the “Scream” franchise come to mind), the film ably delivers on its premise, mining enough life from its satirical concept to deliver plenty of crowd-pleasing moments.

“Stan Lee” is obviously intended to be celebratory in nature, but by allowing Lee to tell the story largely in his own words, it conveys a genuine sense of what made him as big and colorful as any of the spandex-clad figures that he helped birth and spring off the page.

Elemental doesn’t quite join the studio’s hallowed top tier, but it does yield moments of magic and beauty – reflecting both the immigrant experience as well as the power of love – worthy of that legacy.

Playfully presented, it’s the kind of mildly tasty cinematic snack that doesn’t exactly stick to your ribs.

DC finds itself at a bit of a crossroads. Yet that timing makes it all the more impressive to see how “The Flash” has managed to click on all cylinders, pay respect to the company’s past while achieving the kind of balance that could and perhaps should point the way to its future.

A simple-minded strain of giant-robot combat. Much in need of a script tune-up, it’s a less-than-meets-the-eye summer-movie machine, and not a particularly well-oiled one.

While the movie remains a dazzling experience in terms of what the animation achieves, it indulges in what feels like sensory overload, seeking emotional heft in ways that slow down the action. The movie also falls victim, somewhat, to the blessings and curses associated with the multiverse, which offers infinite possibilities but also the occasional sense that there are so many permutations none of them matter all that much.

As is so often the case with these movies, the buildup is generally more terrifying than the payoff, and Savage doesn’t scrimp when it comes to jump-at-you scares.

Reality might have benefited from widening the play’s tight, almost-claustrophobic focus a little bit more for this medium, but what’s there remains stark and compelling, with Sweeney’s discomfort speaking volumes even though the character says very little.

The Little Mermaid is both slick and satisfying, meeting the primary challenge of allowing parents and kids to create memories around seeing it together. Setting aside its other assets, Bailey’s out-of-this-world contribution alone serves up the kind of splashy entertainment that justifies getting out of the summer sun, and in terms of being enjoyed far beyond that, might even have legs.

Even in a boom time for musical profiles, this HBO presentation shines brighter than most.

At its best this White Men Can’t Jump conveys the fragility of hoop dreams, while tackling what former players do with their lives once the promise of signing bonuses and sponsorship deals appears to have fizzled. (NBA star Blake Griffin, incidentally, is among the producers, joining several of his contemporaries in establishing a Hollywood toehold while still suiting up.)... On that level, at least, the movie works reasonably well. It’s the hitches in the rest of its game that prevent it, even as a streaming proposition, from being anything close to a slam dunk.

Yet for all its high-octane action this tenth film is really just revving its engine for more sequels to come, kicking off a multi-part story that offers an appropriately bloated way to bring this very loud enterprise to a (no doubt temporary) finish.

While there are some new details in the telling, the net effect leaves the Smith that people didn’t know, other than those meticulously airbrushed photo spreads, largely untouched.

A spare thriller from director/co-writer Robert Rodriguez that has the feel of a “Twilight Zone” episode, with no shortage of twists along the way.

The kill count generally provides the requisite thrills, but everything else seems stitched together from genre clichés.

STILL: A Michael J. Fox Movie is a remarkable accomplishment, making brilliant use of film clips to seamlessly illustrate and augment reenactments and the actor’s narration of his story, having spent more than 30 years living with Parkinson’s disease. Nostalgic without becoming overly sentimental, it’s an ode to Fox’s life, career and the struggle he continues to endure.