More focused and less preachy than its exploitation-riffing predecessor, the comparably shoddy Machete Kills nonetheless peters out in the homestretch (and, for some, surely sooner).

While this is arguably Greengrass’ best film, it’s almost certainly his most urgent.

Not many side-splitting jokes, but a goofy glee is smeared across it all.

Little chance of finding realism or romance but the laughs are there.

Among the stronger American horror films of the year.

The sequel quadruples the recipe, with gags on top of gags on top of gags in a way only animation could achieve. Like a foodie “Jurassic Park” conjured up by Tex Avery, “Cloudy 2″ is a sight to behold … as long as your brain hasn’t turned to mush by the halfway point.

The human imperative informs every aspect of After Tiller, resulting in an unexpectedly warm film.

Directors Katie Graham and Andrew Matthews create a great framework for the epic nemesis battle, but also know when to pull back to keep the movie grounded in reality.

Part of what’s so invigorating about A Touch of Sin is its refusal to betray the depth of its intellectual ambition, deferring when needed to generic convention and relishing the entertainment which follows.

Should satisfy the planet of b-boys and girls to whom it preaches.

Schreiber saves it to an extent with some unusual performance choices, but when you compare this ending to the emotional supernova of Danny Boyle’s “Sunshine” it comes way short.

The Fog of War is the superior film, but The Unknown Known is more unsettling.

For every poignant moment there’s a gaudy dream sequence, wretched internal monologue, ham-fisted zoom or an exchange of dialogue sorely lacking nuance.

Under the Skin is a deliberately oblique piece of work that prizes rhythms and textures above hows and whys.

Fading Gigolo wants to be some sort of sunny tapestry about New York’s social groups, but it’s impossible to see past its absurd premise.

Parkland mines some interesting scenes, if not in an entirely coherent fashion, resolving as more of an interesting concept than a fully rendered and effective film.

Palo Alto is one of the best movies ever made about high school life in America (admittedly a low bar), blurring the lines between how unique it is to be a teenager, and how universal it is to feel like one.

The best word to describe it is strange, though it could have been halfway decent (yes, all the way up to halfway decent) if the third act hadn’t succumbed to the crescendo of craziness that had been building for the first hour.

Cage, not one known for subtlety of late, is truly great in this sad, funny and tender role.

Fiennes and writer Abi Morgan mercifully forsake the gee-golly traditions of similar fame-minded fare...in constructing a narrative as emotionally repressed as its subjects must have been, with each character existing within their own arena of personal and social compromise.

The fact that Cuarón’s film strives to be something more than thoroughly harrowing — no small feat in and of itself — solidifies its existence as a marvel of not just technical craft but sheer imagination as well

For a film that reminds use over and over that this is a whole new world, this movie feels awfully familiar.

The F Word would be commendable on the strength of its unusual wit and warmth alone, but it becomes a far more satisfying (even somewhat illuminating) experience because it doesn’t shy away from the often ugly psychology engendered by cross-gendered friendships.

Denis Villeneuve’s Enemy might have the scariest ending of any film ever made.

Backtracking dilutes the few simple jolts that actually work.

There are countless clever dialogue parries as well as some quite outstanding rants. It definitely takes the movie outside of the world of pure realism, but the theatricality is well worth it.

Rather than thrilling, the courtroom sequences seem only enervating, nudging us toward a quiet outrage.

It’s all about the performances. McConaughey and Leto don’t just give voice to the disenfranchised of the 1980s, but all people suddenly faced with impossible challenges.

A film that inserts banal plot devices and endless cutesiness in place of where the “good parts” should be.

While Bad Words is a little too dopey to take seriously, this is compensated for with a handful of truly amusing sequences.

While there are some okay side stories (stuff with the daughters and daughters’ friends) it kinda feels like attending a dinner party and checking in on the first world problems of a friend you kinda like, but don’t like enough to ask any follow up questions.

What’s truly unnerving about the whole thing is how good certain scenes are, and how great a few of the performances come off, especially Julia Roberts and Meryl Streep – they’re doing amazing work, only it’s the equivalent of building a lovely home on a foundation of quicksand.

It’s a sadistic comedy, both in bloodshed and groan-worthy gags.

The film is starved for the kind of nuance Kore-eda wields effortlessly elsewhere. What’s left without it is something merely schematic.

Rush is one of those rare sports movies that’s compelling as both a drama and a spectacle.

There are tones of 1970s shaggy realism that are interrupted by moments of character-driven shtick. The wistful scenes aren’t rich enough to engross you and the comedy isn’t clever enough to make a difference.

It transcends the usual biopic limitations to tell a specific story about some well-known people with larger, universal implications.

Rarely a moment is ever wasted, a consequence ignored, and though the climax is a corker, the final shot is even better. Prisoners requires and rewards your attention in equal measure. Be ready.

Co-writers and stars June Diane Raphael (“Whitney,” “New Girl”) and Casey Wilson (“Happy Endings”) are genuine and true comic performers. Even though the story stunk, the set pieces were uninspired and the direction was downright wretched, when these two are “on” and doing schtick, they are absolutely fresh and hilarious.

Riddick is a fractured skeleton of a script, with each distinct installment scratching its own itch.

Jason Reitman’s adaptation of Joyce Maynard’s Labor Day is as consistently assured a piece of filmmaking as any we’ve seen from the filmmaker and very much in keeping with the decreasingly glib nature of his output.

Ejiofor’s tightly clenched conviction perfectly embodies hope and righteousness against all odds. He gives the best performance of his career to date, and what’s more, he gives “Slave” its bruised, beating heart with every scene.

There are some laughs – and a few moments worthy of tears – but there’s a breaking point of believability in here somewhere that keeps Nebraska merely good as opposed to great.

Afternoon Delight will both depress and engage an audience, usually just depending on the minute of the movie you find yourself watching.

The film blinks too fast to maintain a coherent vision.

The whole picture is lifeless and without consequence.

This is a story that has everything you’re looking for, provided that you’re looking for absolutely nothing.

The Walt Disney World-set Escape From Tomorrow is both a great gimmick-dependent story and a remarkable piece of filmmaking. It is a radical, transgressive departure that exploits new technology in heretofore unseen ways.

Frankly, no one in this ensemble is done any favors by Jason Hall and Barry Levy’s screenplay, a “Duplicity” for dummies filled to the brim with double-crossing cliches.

This is a story told in shards; Wong is so obsessed with visual details – faces refracted as if in a broken mirror, or fragile arcs of blood being traced out on the pavement by the feet of two feuding kung fu masters – that the story he’s trying to tell is partly obscured by them.

Faithful to the superficial thrills and flaws of the original.

Full of truth that's ultimately diluted by a lack of focus.

A visually colorful but otherwise vanilla continuation of the series.

A.C.O.D. proves to be both a solid debut for Zicherman and a worthy vehicle for Scott and company, one that provides plenty of awkward laughs and generally gives the American farce a good name again.

The point of this film is the spell it weaves and, by and large, it is successful. It’s the music, it’s the cinematography, it’s the score, it’s Casey Affleck’s hollow speaking voice — they all add up to something that resembles a fever dream facsimile of an eventful movie.

It’s the odd touch of local color — like the backdrop of an abandoned amusement park, or the arrival of a Civil War steamer crewed by Confederate zombies — that makes these routine acts of derring-do a bit easier to bear.

It’s half of a good movie, and another half that no one asked for or wanted.

Frankly, Elysium is a bit of a liberal’s wet dream: the good guys want accessible healthcare, while the bad guys want to do away with undocumented immigrants.

The premise is provoking and well-conceived, confidently moving things forward until the increasingly knotty rules of the film’s universe eventually come to overbear the experience a bit in the homestretch.

Burdge is left to do much of the heavy lifting in terms of inviting the audience into her protagonist’s shaky state, and her performance boasts a remarkable emotional precision throughout — if ever there’s a reason to seek this one out, it would be for her.

In a season stuffed with empty eye candy, 2 Guns comes along as something of a welcome burrito — plenty satisfying and hardly nutritious.

The Smurfs 2 is not so much of a film as it is a collection of images and sounds that bludgeon you.

From a distance The Spectacular Now is mere soap opera, but it is one of those films that grow more fascinating upon inspection.

Boasting a compelling cast of characters, Wasteland” is a very smooth feature film debut from director Rowan Athale, and one that invites repeat viewings.

The Canyons has all the elegance and depth of a daytime soap opera, peppered with flashes of name brand nudity for a tantalizing hook. It’s a slog.

Much like Brandy, “List” tries and tries and tries to get the job done, but frankly, the satisfaction only ever comes in spurts.

The Wolverine reveals itself to be a film in desperate need of a point, in dire need of consequences and in a wandering search of any semblance of emotional weight.

When Allen conceives of a character this great, it’s hard not to wish for him to slow down and maybe write that extra draft to refine his creation, but Blanchett – at once both repellant and eminently relatable – uses the casual tone to her advantage, the same way that monster movies use miniatures for scale.

A knowing take on movies and maturity alike, The World’s End is just as thoroughly thoughtful as those which came before it, and maybe more than ever, you’ll find yourself laughing to keep from crying.

Every double-cross and ticking clock is familiar in the worst ways.

There is a legitimate film in here somewhere, buried deep beneath the rubble of its terrible script and editing.

Drug War is by no means a bad film, but it doesn’t do much to push the needle of originality, and doesn’t glide enough to represent perfection of the genre.

Particular credit must be given to Samuel L. Jackson’s voicing of Whiplash and Paul Giamatti’s work on the voice of Chet. The chemistry between the two is awesome, hilarious even.

It’s unlikely anyone who sees Blackfish will be trekking to Shamu Stadium this summer.

The most gut-wrenching 'making of' documentary ever made.

Europa Report doesn’t entirely sell out to convention by the end, but the steps it takes to reach its noble conclusion reflect a lack of imagination and invention, especially for a film that initially seems to champion such qualities.

Hollow, uninteresting and false.

Wan has marshaled his crack sense of supernatural menace into making his most satisfying scare story yet.

A movie of fools, by fools, for fools, Grown Ups 2 is easily forgotten, which isn’t as bad a feature as you’d think.

The Lifeguard is a painfully dull (alleged) drama utterly lacking in originality or self-awareness.

It is one of the better dumbass sci-fi action movies to come down the pike in quite some time.

Despicable Me 2 is fun, especially near the culmination. Structural issues aside, it’s impossible not to like these characters, all of them, rendered with love, always entertaining even when the story around them doesn’t make much sense.

The fact that Johnny Depp alone gets top billing above the title, The Lone Ranger, despite not playing said character sums up the generally misguided approach taken by Depp and the creative crew behind the “Pirates of the Caribbean” franchise in bringing last century’s radio and TV hero back to the big screen in a big way.

Given Garant and Lennon’s background on “The State” and “Reno 911,” their scattershot approach as filmmakers isn’t especially surprising; for every oddly specific Shakespeare reference or detour to the local po-boy joint, there’s an ongoing parade of puke and an awful rubber suit with which to contend.

Thanks for Sharing can’t quite find its footing as either a drama or a comedy, and near the end it’s actively sliding off the rails.

A bawdy and belligerent comedy, meant mostly for folks looking for nothing more than to enjoy a few laughs.

At best, White House Down is a sure-fire way to kill two hours, if not countless brain cells.

First and foremost I’m So Excited! is late night cabaret – funny, filthy and more than a little bit sloshed.

Maniac is a bit like watching an amputee play hopscotch: there’s no way that it’s polite to stare for this long, but you just have to see if this guy’s gonna make it to the end.

A Hijacking isn’t boring, but it is not an adventure film – it is a frustratingly realistic take on the unfortunate modern threat of piracy, and a bit of an emotional workout.

This is design work of the highest caliber and it is impossible to not enjoy simply watching these little buggers run around. It is unfortunate, however, that the creativity, originality and propulsive storytelling found in the original “Monsters Inc.” just didn’t matriculate with them.

Uncharacteristically loose and deceptively frivolous, The Bling Ring is as much of an attack on The Hills Generation as any of Coppola’s previous films were an exercise in self-pity, which is to say not at all.

Like the giallo films it pays tribute to, Berberian Sound Studio is more of a sensory experience than a dramatic one.

If the word “epic” has lost its meaning in the throes of recent summers, Man of Steel forcefully redefines it.

It’s minor LaBute, but nonetheless short and bittersweet.

So self-conscious that it alienates the viewer early and often.

A well-polished production with a remarkable soundtrack.

An efficient and effectively exciting globe-spanning zombie thriller.