The parameters of homeland security are chillingly assessed in Do Not Resist, a troubling documentary examining the escalating militarization of the nation’s police forces.

As always with Greenwald, it’s refreshing that he doesn’t simply indulge in fear-mongering. He has the resources and the research team to sort through lots of data, culling the relevant points and encouraging action.

Daum acts as a thoughtful onscreen guide to what the picturesque hillsides and its stone remains represent.

Chuck is, in certain ways, not unlike its flawed hero: a lot of personality, just enough ambition, more interested in a good time and simple insight than a lasting impression.

The grim economic realities behind such trafficking are glancingly acknowledged. There’s real impact, though, in the anger and grief of law enforcement officials and conservationists when their tracking leads them to elephant carcasses.

It’s a movie that ultimately may mean more to those raised in heavily Catholic cultures, but it has an engaging prickliness as a satiric peek into the life of a brooding idealist.

Before the Flood is neither dull screed nor stat-heavy pamphlet, thanks largely to the questing intensity of its marquee guide.

Director Kijak deserves credit for constructing an engaging narrative that will have the uninitiated crossing their arms in an X in solidarity by the end.

Catfight is the type of blackly comic film that works to alienate some viewers with its over-the-top approach and its unlikable characters. But those who enjoy its dark humor will cackle with mean-spirited delight.

Neither Hathaway nor the script makes any overt bids for the audience’s sympathy in Colossal, which may explain why they earn it so handily.

The hyper-dramatic touches help disguise that this is essentially a film about paperwork. The rest of the weight is carried by Fan, who’s funny and heartbreaking. She’s a hero for our times: a stubborn woman, willing to inconvenience the powerful to get a fair hearing.

As externalized visions of high school hellishness go, Shaw’s doesn’t always translate into the most cohesively entertaining of mash-ups, but his techniques are attention-grabbers.

While the plot is skimpy, the performances are rich, which turns Prevenge into a series of satirical sketches, dissecting the social dynamics between a mother-to-be and the various men and women who think they have an advantage over her.

If it struggles to make sense emotionally (or logistically), it benefits from the confident pace of a literate, mainstream entertainment, and the tactical showmanship of star Bryan Cranston, who’s made something of a specialty out of the average guy going through a metamorphosis.

It’s a strange brew: stark yet beautiful, urgent yet dreamlike.

Though its chronological organization and issue management is rough around the edges, Esquenazi’s passionately argued film...easily convinces that the charges are impossible to believe.

This odd friendship dramedy has its winning moments, thanks to a fine cast, including Eric Roberts and Marguerite Moreau, and a bold visual design that underlines the quirky and fantastical tone.

This vital, heartfelt portrait lacks the visceral gut-punch needed to fully resonate.

Sadwith, whose TV credits include the miniseries “Sinatra,” conjures a few memorable moments in his big-screen debut. But the most stirring moment belongs to Cooper, who turns a barely audible, exasperated sigh into a complicated life story.

If this adulatory “American Masters” production elides certain chapters of Angelou’s biography, it nonetheless offers ample evidence of her commanding intensity and of her importance as an unwavering voice of the black experience.

Veteran director Roger Spottiswoode, whose output has been spotty in recent years, returns to form with a perfectly weighted redemptive story that engages the heart without shying away from the darker aspects of Bowen’s recovery.

The ongoing clash between activism and politics played out on the ice floes of Atlantic Canada is penetratingly — and unflinchingly — portrayed in Huntwatch.

It’s surprisingly affecting, but there’s a tendency to telegraph these pivotal emotional moments that in a way lessens their effect. It’s a tribute to the film’s overall craft, and especially its cast, that it’s as much a winner as it is.

The Autopsy of Jane Doe is sometimes too low-key, favoring spooky atmosphere and slow-drip storytelling over visceral kicks. But as an acting showcase, the film’s a winner, getting plenty of juice from the performances of two reliable pros.

Greater technical and financial detail, additional period context, a deeper look at what makes daredevils such as Branson and Lindstrand tick, and snappier overall chronicling would’ve made this fun ride truly soar.

More than any of the sequels, “Ravager” upholds the mind-bending originality and emotional depth of the first “Phantasm.” From the surprise cameos by old characters to the constant twisting of dreams and reality, it’s suffused with the feeling of people trying to regain control of their lives, to get back what they’ve lost.

A documentary that begs to be seen in a theater, Sky Ladder: The Art of Cai Guo-Qiang offers an inviting glimpse into the life of a truly international artist, one whose colorful fireworks displays literally paint the air.

Though more sensationalistic than serious, this film has a scale and an energy that rivals any Hollywood blockbuster.

And although the film might stint on full renditions of their songs, one of the few played in its entirety is a gorgeous, relaxed acoustic version of “Honky Tonk Women” delivered by Mick and Keith in a vacant dressing room.

Although there are contrivances, and Joe’s blurry “catfishing” tale meanders, these folks’ emotional growth feels authentic and touchingly earned.

Despite the film’s brief running time, it packs in vital social context, gay history and nostalgic imagery along with some sad truths.

Though the plot’s too convoluted, the relentless pace and pungent atmosphere elevate the film above the typical grim crime stories soaked in blood and despair.

As he uses Rathbun’s old tactics against his observers, Theroux raises troubling questions about psychological warfare and how devoutness shades into fanaticism.

What the movie refuses to do is dazzle, or resonate, or overstay its welcome, which is another way of saying it doesn’t really linger. As “8’s” go, it could stand to be a little crazier.

There are a few story threads left hanging, but ultimately, the film is a thoughtful rumination on the far-reaching tentacles of grief, and the crucial importance of asserting humanity that persists in the face of devastation.

The best part of Dependent’s Day is the rapid-fire, easy-breezy banter between Burke and Robledo — their connection is palpable, and feels comfortable and lived in.

It’s a capably made documentary that argues its case with intelligence and compassion.

While the foreshadowing proves more fascinating than the upshot, the two leads breathe jittery life into every sinister twist.

Pet isn’t much more than a twist on an old conceit, and the character beats are painted with overly broad strokes, but it’s sharply shot with a crystalline sense of unease, and Monaghan and Solo lean into their creepy performances wholeheartedly.

Even with several contrivances in the movie’s final third, this remains a taut, haunting ride thanks to solid writing and directing by Zack Whedon (Joss and Jed’s younger brother) and a strong, sympathetic performance by Paul. Find this one.

As a mood killer and conscience-raiser it’s woefully obvious, but also unlikely to erase the sense memory of all the scintillatingly captured fauna that came before it.

One of the achievements of Buirski’s absorbing documentary is that it allows Lumet to remind us, in his own voice, of the passion in his ostensible dispassion — the way he deftly subsumed self-expression within the brisk rhythms of his material and the superb performances of his actors.

It’s a confident weirdness that Buster’s Mal Heart boasts as it dissects a damaged soul for signs of what’s eternal and what’s triggered when a man breaks in two.

When it’s merely a guided tour marked by sites and talking historians, Finding Babel can feel a little color-by-numbers. (Which may explain the Schreiber-read interludes.) But there are excursions that feel invigorating.

Despite the use of strong archival clips and photos, the film, with its ongoing stream of talking heads, can make for static, at times sluggish viewing. Still, this key episode in American military history deserves to be commemorated.

"Wereskunk” only wavers when it slips from the style of the era, with the usage of digital special effects or the odd modern reference. When it stays in the unique lane it’s established for itself, it’s plenty of silly retro fun.

The rehabilitative power of forgiveness is thought-provokingly explored in Ilan Ziv’s An Eye for an Eye.

For the most part this is a clever and confident expansion of a terrific short. It stings less but packs plenty of poison.

Featuring footage from the last six decades, All Governments Lie is a timely, convincing documentary that will cause audiences to question what they see and read.

For anyone who’s been on an indie film set, Fell, Jumped or Pushed is deeply relatable, and very funny.

Though there’s never a smooth path toward narrative or emotional enlightenment as you watch CRD, Kanadé’s willingness to explore the creative impulse through impish experimentation is amusing and infectious.

The situation seems dire in many ways, though Yastrzhembskiy offers some hope at the end of the film, along with solutions to controlling demand in the ivory market. It’s a powerful call to action and a reminder of the bloody global implications contained in a single trinket.

A couple of flashbacks color in their history but feel unnecessary, as the script and actors ably express the complicated history between the two men. The weekend in the desert is all that is needed to bring to life this romantic drama about revisiting the roads not taken.

Hunter Gatherer is a warmly eccentric little indie that’s amusing, authentic and works against expectation. B

Summarizing the plight of the average working actor’s lot in three all-too-familiar words, No Pay, Nudity, is a tenderly observed, bittersweet comedy featuring a beautifully rooted Gabriel Byrne.

The sumptuously shot, costumed, designed and scored Russian import The Duelist dazzles and provokes as it makes little real sense beyond the confines of its hermetic milieu.

Like others in this series (“The Black List,” “The Out List”), it’s a mix of to-the-camera testimonials and archival photos, elegantly packaged, less a movie than a companionable hour spent with a diverse collection of people wonderfully articulate about the road they’ve traveled.

Harvey delivers an in-depth cultural and sociological view of the sport, while making a compelling case for the necessity of fighting.

The loneliness of the long-distance chess grandmaster is affectingly conveyed in Magnus.

By turns gorgeous, propulsive and feverishly overwrought, A Wrinkle in Time is an otherworldly glitter explosion of a movie, the kind of picture that wears its heart on its tie-dyed sleeve.

An emotional experience that is straight-ahead but satisfying.

Nobody Walks in L.A. rides on the easy, sunny charm of the lead duo, as well as the beauty and personality of the city.

It’s without a shred of guilt that I say there is honest pleasure to be found in Before I Fall, which takes an unapologetically silly conceit and wrings from it a surprisingly nimble and affecting survey of contemporary teenage attitudes and anxieties.

Space Jam whimsically teams basketball superstar Michael Jordan and cartoon icon Bugs Bunny in a blend of live-action and animation containing more rowdiness and broad humor than vintage Looney Tunes charm.

Israeli director Dani Menkin has been especially thorough in telling this classic against-all-odds sports story.

What emerges is a portrait of doctors and staff who work hard to do the right thing for their patients and the babies, who have no voice. It is life, fought for and forged in the most difficult of circumstances.

It’s a bit of a structural and thematic hodgepodge, and a few key moments feel cursorily handled, but Evan’s Crime remains an effectively scrappy and involving us-against-them drama.

Like the prolific Minn’s other disturbing docs, “8 Murders a Day” and “A Nightmare in Las Cruces,” this is a gritty, no frills, at times sensationalistic immersion into grim criminal territory.

While its own roots never go quite as deep as they might, there’s still something goofily endearing about seeing Reitman, armed with that trusty bonsai, traipsing around the country on a healing mission.

The penetrating Solitary is a sobering account of life (without parole) inside the Red Onion, a super-maximum security prison ensconced in Virginia’s Appalachians.

Sporadic dips into melodrama, some on-the-nose dialogue and acting, and an occasionally intrusive score hinder but don’t negate this ambitious film’s power and conviction.

It may lack focus in its approach to its subject, but Davis’ compelling character and powerful message keep the audience engaged.

Everything you ever wanted to know — or perhaps never knew you wanted to know — about the wildly influential Roland TR-808 drum machine is laid out with entertaining, if exhaustive, brio in the documentary 808.

While you don’t have to be crazy about cats to enjoy this documentary, it would certainly help.

More unity of style would have made a better final product, but Kyle’s story — coupled with vibrant cinematography from Schlanser — is strong enough to keep audiences engaged and moved throughout the brief running time.

Despite an atmosphere of simmering violence and criminal wrongdoing, Boatman is more art film than action film; deliberately paced, skillfully shot, emotionally challenging.

Input from historians, political scientists and other observers, as well as archival footage and photos, and impressionistic reenactment bits, round out this resonant, not untimely portrait of a dark and frightening chapter in Brazil’s past.

It may be by-the-book, but American Wrestler is a story well worth telling.

Though this movie has its outrageous moments, Di Novi puts the female emotional journey up front and treats things respectfully. But every erotic thriller needs some crazy, and thank goodness for Heigl's full commitment to her character's insanity.

If there is a reason to cherish this often captivating, sometimes irritating, unavoidably perplexing movie, it's that its mere existence seems to defy rational explanation. It is by turns savage and soulful, mangy and refined, possessed of an unmistakable pedigree and yet boldly resistant to categorization. It's a shaggy Frankenmutt of a movie, dressed in artisanal fur and infested by bespoke fleas.

This documentary meanders a bit as it goes between time periods, but it’s never less than entertaining and illuminating.

The loose style of the film is held together by the strong performances from the leads and supporting actors alike.

By showing the exhausting diligence that goes into moments of pure transcendent joy onstage, this doc should make new fans for Giordano’s living museum.

A film that finally fascinates despite some initial bumps in the road.

For all the actors’ commitment and ferocity, the experience they offer feels less like a confrontation with the anxieties of modern life than a plush, moody escape.

While Only the Brave is consistently involving and entertaining, that desire to be accurate about a heroic reality proves to be an at times awkward fit with the conventions of this kind of earnest and old-fashioned Hollywood film.

While it doesn't pay to think too hard about the plot, after four of these films, director Collet-Serra, shooting here on a 30-ton set put together from authentic discarded railroad scrap, is an expert, so to speak, at making this kind of train run on time.

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.

A fine Watkins brings quiet depth and pathos to the buttoned-up, tightly wound Jonathan, while Graye proves an appealingly game and sexy counterpart.

For the most part, nothing about Claire in Motion seems overly calculated. It knows precisely where it’s going, but it’s also wise enough to leave that destination open-ended.

Viewers unfamiliar with One Piece may find themselves lost in places, as the filmmakers treat the regular characters and their relationships as givens, with no introductions or explanations. Fans will find the outré settings, bizarre characters, over-the-top fights and slapstick comedy they enjoy.

The road to hell, the saying goes, is paved with the best of intentions, and that is very much the case with the complex art world conundrum explored in the lively, involving documentary Saving Banksy.

An even-tempered slice of pro-animal sentimentality that may not be the smoothest piece of filmmaking, but wears its emotions honestly and benefits from offering a look at a rarely explored arena of human-animal relationships: dogs trained for combat.

The film captures the dazzling beauty of its ocean locales, both above and beneath the surface, while soberly reminding us of the crucial ecological issues — and solutions — at hand.

Earlier English translations soft-pedaled the nature of Fiore’s affection for Mamoru. The lively new version is closer to the original, and suggests Fiore’s feeling are more passionate than fraternal.

It’s a loving, honest portrait of these men who were world-famous for a bright moment, and most importantly, what happens after the limelight goes away.

The film is often a marvel of visual and narrative resourcefulness. But with its single primary location, blistering atmosphere, small cast and narrow focus, “Mine” may prove too grueling for some.

Touches of empathy and self-awareness invariably crystallize the unsettling emotions of revisiting one’s past life.