Little in the film stings as much as the fact that Knoxville and co. have clearly lost a step. It’s a bummer that Knoxville himself is too banged up to get involved to the same degree that he once did, and though some of the new bits reflect the visionary idiocy of the crew’s finest work (Larry the robot is a brilliant addition to the cast), many of them fail to leave a mark.

Alcock, tasked with playing a character that might strike some as “unlikable,” instead finds both the very human dimension and the out-of-this-world charisma necessary to make Kara worth rooting for.

She’s the He might not be the funniest or most fearless film about trans identity to find fans this year. But it understands that while queerness isn’t contagious, hope is.

For Girls Like Girls the movie, the final result is less a standalone work of great cinema announcing Kiyoko as a feature director, and more an act of dreamy devotion designed to comfort her core fanbase. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. But it does change who, and perhaps what, this soulful and peculiar film adaptation is for.

But for all of its teachable wisdom, this movie knows that life is never sweeter than it is during the moments, and years, when we simply can’t accept that love is also made out of plastic.

There’s only so much marveling at brilliant and grotesque creature designs that can be done before the story needs to get on its feet, but I Am Frankelda does eventually click into place once its world is fully established.

This is the action movie of the year so far as American theatergoers should be concerned, and nothing else really comes close.

The Death of Robin Hood isn’t revisionist history — it’s a history of revisionism. One that fittingly creeps further into fiction with every claim it makes towards “the truth,” as Sarnoski’s ultra-austere effort to cut through a millennium of myths can’t help but create a hard-to-swallow fable of its own along the way.

Filled with sight gags, innuendos, and puns galore, Stop! That! Train! has a shaky hit or miss ratio in its humor, with great jokes wedged between hacky bits that land like a botched lip sync death drop. And it’s unmistakably a fan only affair.

Far-fetched as this popcorn movie gets, it crucially never loses sight of the notion that to look outward is to look within (and vice versa), a theory that only grows clearer over the span of a blockbuster whose 79-year-old director still peers back at his childhood for a better view of the stars.

Ryuya Suzuki’s masterful anime, which spans the century-long life of a J-Pop star, makes it impossible to ignore how little it shows you.

The most compelling thing about Office Romance, which would be as formulaic as it gets if not for its admirably deep bench of deranged supporting characters, is that it gives Lopez the chance to publicly negotiate between the extremes of her own screen image — to explore the frustrations of being a self-possessed woman who has to shrink herself down in order to maintain her power.

Scary Movie 6 manages to come across as thoughtless and toothless at the same time.

The characters in “Masters of the Universe” are considerably more fun than the vast CGI world around them, or the weirdly compact adventure that takes them through it (how this movie is 141 minutes long is an even greater mystery than why this movie is 141 minutes long).

The film isn’t so bold as to suggest that it’s never too late to find fortune and fame in the entertainment industry. But it replaces those fantasies of overnight success with something richer, and its conviction in the power of songwriting as something that doesn’t have to be connected to record sales and stadium shows makes it a charming entry in a filmography that has never tried to be anything it’s not.

A nature doc mixed with autobiography, “Time and Water” is a poetic musing on intergenerational memory, a whimsical, yet staunchly political elegy for the glaciers, and a mournful look at the Earth in all her majesty and mystery.

Perhaps predictably, the cast’s strongest chemistry has little to do with the nuclear Wilcox clan. Bargatze comes more alive opposite his fellow comedians, who, appearing in various supporting roles, seem to understand the unusual frequency Appel is chasing better than the film’s star himself.

Backrooms is a movie more likely to blow young minds, but remember the first horror movie you saw that changed who you were? This movie will be that for a lot of people.

There are hints of a far better movie peeking out from Maras’ dull weather drama, and the Australian director nearly finds it on numerous occasions. But even supported by Scott’s broad tonal excellence and Fraser’s obvious (if misplaced) commitment, when “Pressure” finally approaches the beaches of Normandy, the attack sails past catharsis and lands like a mercy killing instead.

While hope on the horizon is presented, this rich, deeply moving drama doesn’t shy away from forgiveness being something that cannot be easily forced, even when the will may be there, however far buried.

Mysius is a rigorously attentive filmmaker, obsessed by the small details that make up the frames of a thriller, who I’d love to be served by better material that isn’t such a by-the-numbers thriller.

Colony is literal and uncritical in the application of its ideas so that genuine fear is obliterated in exchange for a blasé familiarity. We don’t expect superlative fascist critique at every turn, or a treatise on team-level failure within behemoth institutions, but at least bring emotionality and intimacy with your more clear-eyed pacing.

It is so wholly transporting that its running time flies by unnoticed, and as it barrels toward its melancholic end, you’re left breathless in your seat wishing you could spend more time with these kids, hoping they will all be OK, even while knowing that life still has many more knocks waiting for them, and that perhaps none will be ever be as monumental as when love is lost, but if you have patience, also when it is found.

It’s hard to identify when the emotional circuit board underlying “I See Buildings Fall Like Lightning” switches on and a low-key multi-character yarn coheres into a humanist light show, only that after that certain point it achieves the enduring power of a folk ballad.

“Jim Queen” along the way becomes a kind of I Spy for gay tropes that those in the audience will laugh at and recognize, but won’t be left to feel much about after gay humanity has been saved.

No matter how pleasant and even insightful certain segments of the interview are, it would play immeasurably better as a stand-alone audio program than inorganically expanded into a feature film that’s part-archival and part-tech experiment.

Tedious in its plotting but rich in its temporal frictions, this ultra-faithful adaptation of Honobu Yonezawa’s 2021 novel embraces the time-honored traditions of its form with an eye toward subverting them by the end, an approach that proves apt — if not always satisfying — in the context of a story about a samurai who’s struggling to determine if he should do the same.

Clocking in at a tight 90 minutes, some changes to the also-slim book are smart, while others dilute its darkest impulses.