Kaleidoscope is brilliantly crafted and performed, but it’s a bit too taken with its own muddling of facts and form to truly hook into.

The directors get some melancholic atmosphere out of their visuals but don’t have the scene sense to build their actors’ committed performances into compelling through-lines of seaside personality disintegration.

Like “Winter’s Bone,” the film is at its best when it follows its heroine closely, letting the audience understand more about her life with each step closer to danger.

At most, Naples ’44 makes a solid case for turning to Lewis’ prose and getting the full effect of his year there that way.

Although the movie...could use some second-half tightening and a bit more objectivity (Georgia-Pacific and Koch Industries did not comment in the film), it remains a vital, eye-opening portrait.

An intricate, dazzling cinematic dance, Foxtrot goes both deeper in and further out than standard-issue cinema. It's profound and moving and wild and crazy at the same time, simultaneously telling a specific story and offering an emotional snapshot of a country whose very soul seems to be at risk.

Forget the cheapo title, Badsville is a powerful, deeply felt crime drama about letting go of the past and getting out of Dodge — before it’s too late.

Looking for bathroom humor, beer jokes, heavy metal, unapologetic smut and a dude in a furry monster suit? These movies are a one-stop shop for just that kind of good-natured vulgarity.

This debut effort from Hickman lacks the dramatic tension and connective tissue to truly compel, but his gritty, high-energy aesthetic can no doubt be applied to better results with a stronger script.

The blades of the brotherhood may be sharp, but the execution is exceedingly dull.

The stirring, masterfully constructed documentary “Apache Warrior” makes intriguing use of three recovered flight tapes from a squadron of U.S. Apache fighter helicopters that launched a deep attack in Iraq at the start of the war in March 2003.

Despite Denison’s intentions, a very fine, uncomfortable line exists between being up-to-the-minute and opportunistic.

The clunky organization and very basic production values give way to something inspiring.

Ultimately, it feels irresponsible to remain unwilling to take a stand on this extreme abstract rhetoric in support of an all too real and immediate threat.

[A] fascinating and frustrating documentary.

With its uninspired ending, Alien Invasion: S.U.M.1 squanders its cool concept and a compelling, nearly solo performance by Iwan Rheon.

While the conclusion to The Other Side of Hope is open-ended, Kaurismaki unashamedly believes in brotherhood, and among other things his film celebrates people who do the right thing without making a big deal about it.

Love Beats Rhymes lacks its own ambition to be something different.

The story of how Wiseau turned his great cinematic lemon into zeitgeist lemonade is both heartening and instructive, but it also hints at darker secrets and unknowns that this movie’s upbeat dimensions can’t entirely capture.

Psychopaths is too random, too kitschy — too immature.

As comfortable to slip into as an afternoon in the sun, as satisfying as a late-night piece of cake, Princess Cyd is a jewel of a film that plumbs thematic depths far below its surface.

If Yonebayashi’s movie doesn’t have the visual richness and imaginative depth of Ghibli masterpieces like Hayao Miyazaki’s “Spirited Away,” its emotional warmth and wondrously inviting hand-drawn imagery carry on that company’s proud tradition.

Until it devolves into testosterone-drenched, operatic silliness, the mix of bullets, blood and banter is dumb fun.

A creaky recount of the relationship between affluent, New England-born painter Catharine Robb (Julie Lynn Mortensen) and her rural-Canadian artist husband, Peter Whyte (Juan Riedinger).

Headley has created three oddly memorable folks here, no small feat given their detail-light histories. It’s also a testament to the able cast — especially the enjoyably nimble Rogers — that we invest in their characters and their cockeyed plight as much as we do.

Because of its look, some fine period music including the Mills Brothers version of "Coney Island Washboard," and actors giving it their best effort, Wonder Wheel is not as completely forgettable as it would otherwise be.

Toward the end of this searing, finally overwhelming film, it’s unclear which is the more disturbing realization: that Alyosha was lost long before he went missing, or that you don’t really want him to be found.

The script blunts its own emotional impact with coincidences, odd choices and an ending that feels too neat, even for an inspirational film of this nature.

The movie isn’t trying to understand Chicago in the Capone era. It just uses those names and stories as a backdrop for a lot of shooting, swearing and bad accents.

Hopkins and company don’t bring much special or personal to the material. The plot’s predictable and the shocks are routine in Slumber.

You may tire of the onion-peeling by the time it’s all laid bare, but for fans of the buffet-style of crime capers it’s a slick diversion, engagingly assembled and acted.

As a screenwriter and director, Goldbloom is green but well-intentioned, with later moments redeeming some early ugliness.

Dagg (who previously made the very good chase picture “River”) tries too hard to give the material a highbrow frame. The movie is dimly lighted and hushed to a fault. But the China brothers’ script is strong, and Dagg elicits terrific performances from Abbott, Bernthal and Poots.

A Gray State disturbingly traverses the blurred boundary between reality and performance all too inherent in today’s social media-fed climate of cultural narcissism.

As a decades-long, ground-level portrait of the country, [Alpert's] vibrant film is unprecedented.

The best thing about Klinger’s time/memory/dream aesthetic is how it looks: the visual equivalent of an audiophile’s nostalgia for vinyl. But the time jumping feels precious, and the screenplay — written by Klinger and Larry Gross — falls too easily into clichés.

Unlike most rock docs, “Life in 12 Bars” isn’t a look back from a distance. It’s like living through one man’s pain.

A delightful, embracing cultural experience.

You could read Thelma as a saga of Sapphic liberation, a fiery critique of religious patriarchy or perhaps yet another superhero’s traumatic origin story; it’s graceful and ambiguous enough to support each of these readings. But the more possibilities the movie seems to entertain, the more its cumulative power seems to dissipate.

Simple, powerful, made with conviction and skill, 1945 proceeds as inexorably as Sámuel and his son on their long walk into town. It's a potent messenger about a time that is gone but whose issues and difficulties are not even close to being past.

Guadagnino’s storytelling is overpoweringly intimate but never narcissistic. He directs our gaze both inward and outward, toward the treasures and mysteries buried within this Italian paradise, and also toward the unseen, unspoken forces that have threatened bonds like Elio and Oliver’s for millennia.

For a film that’s incredibly angry and blackly comic, it finally, and surprisingly, makes a case for compassion and understanding.

From its grab-for-all-the-gusto Gary Oldman performance to its direction by Joe Wright, Darkest Hour is nothing if not an energetic, showy piece of work, but some types of showy have more staying power than others.

The Man Who Invented Christmas is a jaunty, amusing patchwork of truths, half-truths and pure fiction that cleverly combine to recount the story of the whirlwind creation of Charles Dickens' famed novella "A Christmas Carol."

Try as you might to lose yourself in Coco, or pause to ponder its metaphysics, too often you find yourself hindered by the movie's breathless velocity.

On the Beach at Night Alone isn’t as accomplished as Hong’s 2015 collaboration with Kim, the masterfully bifurcated “Right Now, Wrong Then.” But it’s more than worth seeing for Kim’s exposed nerve endings alone, and also for the way in which Hong’s typically playful sensibility seems to tilt at times into a surreal, menacing strangeness.

To consider the long-standing Bourj al Barajneh is to consider the true humanity of refugees, who have hopes, dreams, lives to live and work to do. “Soufra” efficiently and effectively illustrates those ideas.

As a wry commentary on religious tourism, and the limited avenues of prosperity for occupied, idealistic Arabs, “Holy Air” is tartly effective. And Srour’s deadpan way with storytelling, satire and elegantly fixed camera framing is a biting pleasure throughout.

Ameer may be aiming for a profound look at self-hatred, denial or the perils of the gay closet, but his story and characters are too superficially etched to make an impact.

While your brain tries to wrap around that element of the fantasy, Basir flubs his big point about fate, choices and paths — that no matter our lives, we face the chance to change for good or bad — by embracing all the clichés he can find, then filming them without nuance or style.

Director Jason Wise’s enthusiasm proves undeniably infectious.

The film's concerns are profoundly therapeutic, but it nimbly avoids every therapy-drama cliché.

An action-packed third act gives way to a bit of an anti-climactic ending. But it all moves so fast, furiously and unfussily that genre fans should be satisfied.

Wafting into theaters after sitting on the back burner for the last decade, Cook Off! is a shrill, gloppy mess of a mockumentary being served up well past its "best before" date — if there ever actually were one.

Within the story's sometimes too-neat outline, Volpe lets most of her characters breathe.

The lack of any real imagination makes Attack of the Killer Donuts a chore.

[A] dense, disturbing and palpably angry new documentary.

For all of the mini-melodramas that populate this tale, and the repellent ickiness in the central relationship, the worst part about Almost Friends is how incredibly dull and dramatically inert it is.

This is an alternately handsome and harrowing ghost story, about a civilized society haunted by its own unspeakable needs.

Axelsson relies too much on picturesque scenery and subtle dramatic performances to engage the audience whenever not much is happening.

With her debut, Wells demonstrates that she's more than a comedic talent with a wonderfully weird sensibility. As a writer-director, she puts her own stamp on a standard premise, resulting in an unconventional but genuinely enjoyable film.

A work of striking beauty and affecting emotional heft enhanced by an Afghan-themed score by Mychael Danna & Jeff Danna, The Breadwinner reminds us yet again that the best of animation takes us anywhere at any time and makes us believe.

Though it keeps Auggie's fine sense of humor and his remarkably even-keeled attitude about himself and his situation, the movie version of Wonder feels more pat and After School Special-ish than the novel.

There are moments here that arrest you with their hallucinatory power.

Catnip for comedy nerds and psychoanalysts, "Jim & Andy" works as both a vibrant raising-of-the-dead for the crazed, showbiz-piercing genius that was Kaufman — there's plenty of footage from his performance-art career — and a peek into the mind of a massively talented, box office-busting comedy star at a self-doubting, turbulent time in his life

It's a serviceable animated movie appropriate for the season, but there's nothing beyond its source material that marks it as particularly unique or special.

Though the film is completely worth seeing just to experience such a totally realized performance and hear Gilroy's always sharp dialogue, the reality and complexity of the character turns out to clash with plotting that is not as convincing.

To a degree that is both formally impressive and politically astute, Rees and her co-writer, Virgil Williams, have largely retained the symphonic, almost Faulknerian structure of multiple narrators that governed Jordan’s story. The radicalism of Mudbound thus lies in its inherently democratic sensibility, its humble, unapologetic insistence on granting its black and white characters the same moral and dramatic weight.

Kalhor's concise if low-key narration helps the story's many facts and facets unfold with clarity and context. Ultimately, though, it's the stranger-than-fiction nature of this eye-opening tale that makes the film so vital and involving.

A seriously satisfying superhero movie, one that, rife with lines like "the stench of your fear is making my soldiers hungry," actually feels like the earnest comic books of our squandered youth.

Art Show Bingo might be sweet, but it's dramatically inert.

We all like to imagine ourselves as brave resisters. Pomsel's unapologetic account of being "one of the cowards" is a haunting, ever-timely reminder of how easy it can be to cash the paycheck and look the other way.

As unpleasant and inert as its protagonist, "Amanda & Jack Go Glamping" is a romantic comedy that lacks both love and laughs — and likable characters.

While Mrs. Brady gets to cut loose, the weakly written supporting characters aren't as lucky, given precious little to say and even less to do other than attempt to hold their own in the face of pacing that's slower'n molasses.

Even at its most serious and sophisticated, it retains the pleasingly funky aroma of pulp.

While this tenure-challenged Middle Eastern studies professor is hardly pleasant cinematic company, it's tough to look away.

No Greater Love may leave viewers emotionally wrecked, but they’ll emerge with additional respect and gratitude for the soldiers’ sacrifice.

For the most part this is an engaging refresher course in what fighting the power looks like.

Morgan’s arch script about the doomed love lives of the young, rich and idle in L.A. is at times a Whit Stillman-esque social satire. There’s a whiff of a whip-smart, acid-tongued Jane Austen heroine in Annette, but she’s lacking an essential ingredient: empathy.

It’s the glimmers of penetrating observation that make the overload of clichés so frustrating in Onah’s first feature, and suggest better things for his second.

While Lynch has experience delivering breezy action, “breezy” can shade into “frivolous” — or even “forgettable.” As good as Yeun and Weaving are, there’s not a lot here that hasn’t been done

As brainy, vital and captivating as its eponymous star, the documentary Bill Nye: Science Guy should warm the hearts and minds of science lovers, weather enthusiasts, environmental watchdogs and astronomy buffs, all while inspiring viewers to ask questions and seek answers.

If the movie’s form is a rich weave of grotty realism and soulful musical, the story itself is remarkably simple.

Gilbert emerges as a tenderly observed, remarkably insightful keeper.

It’s a masterful effort.

You can’t encapsulate the horrors of the Holocaust in 80 minutes, but what the 12 interviewed survivors accomplish in the documentary Destination Unknown is nevertheless a vivid portrait of genocide put into practice, and its everlasting effects on the living.

Overlong yet alluring.

In the hands of uncommon writer-director Martin McDonagh and a splendid cast toplined by Frances McDormand in what could be the role of her rich and varied career, the how and why of those billboards becomes a savage film, even a dangerous one, the blackest take-no-prisoners farce in quite some time.

As cinema or literature, Murder on the Orient Express may be little more than a clever parlor trick. But in its final moments, even this overstuffed, underachieved movie offers a morally unsettling reminder that — with apologies to Chandler — the art of murder isn’t always as simple as it appears.

An excess of levity can quickly become its own kind of leadenness, and for long stretches between its genuinely amusing gags and set pieces, Thor: Ragnarok, credited to the screenwriting trio of Eric Pearson, Craig Kyle and Christopher Yost, is a bit too taken with its own breezy irreverence to realize when it’s time to rein it in.

What director-editor Robyn Symon's entertaining documentary lacks in polish it makes up for with its uniquely charismatic lead subject and her stranger-than-fiction tale.

Director Alison Eastwood ("Rails & Ties"), despite an evident affinity for the material, takes an overly stagy approach to the scenes, when a more lyrical, atmospheric style was in order.

Thanks to good performances by Cutmore-Scott and Simmons — and good writing by Chirchirillo — Bad Match effectively explores the everyday horror that comes from people treating their fellow human beings as interchangeable playthings.

Writer-director Douglas Mueller's tedious drama Repatriation seems unsure of what it wants to say or how to say it — much less how to effectively shoot or edit it.

The beauty of BPM, and what connects its hard-fought, well-remembered battles to those of the present, lies in its willingness to embrace life in all its messiness, its refusal to pretend that the personal isn't also political and vice versa. You may well weep at the end, but you might also feel like snapping your fingers.

Vividly photographed by René Diaz and adroitly edited by Dan Swietlik, A River Below skillfully — and quite compellingly — navigates the murky complexities of contemporary reality filmmaking.

Survival stories aren't rare in cinema, but Garcia's journey will make even the most jaded viewers drop their jaws.

Miike retains his twisted sense of humor, with mangling and disemboweling deployed for comic effect. And after 99 movies, he certainly knows how to make action memorable. When 300 brightly clad actors with sharp props come storming in for the story's climax, all a martial arts fan can do is sit back and salivate.