Favreau's family-friendly fable, a blend of old-school storytelling charm and new-school animation techniques.

Baumbach, however -- while not entirely past that particular cocktail of curmudgeonly emotions -- demonstrates an ability to laugh at his own apparent age hang-ups.

McConaughey and Leto's performances are also the saviors of Vallee's film, which has a way of belaboring certain points and, in the process, robbing his film of no small amount of momentum.

There's a good reason why the true-crime film The Imposter is a documentary: If someone tried to pass off this bizarre Texas tale as fiction, nobody would believe it.

A singularly enjoyable and moving film.

It's a tremendously moving drama, filled with heartbreak, humor and, more importantly, humanity.

What we end up with is a sweet, feminist character study that shows off Weitz's deft hand as a writer while doubling as a perfect showcase for Tomlin.

Perhaps most interestingly, Gillespie's film is also in its own way, about all of us and our fascination with the Harding saga to begin with, boldly holding up a mirror for us to gaze into. What we see isn't exactly comforting. It might not even be correct. But it is certainly something to ponder.

Calvary is most assuredly not a comedy. It is a weighty, powerful drama -- albeit one with comic moments -- that dabbles in weighty, powerful themes.

The House I Live In is not a comfortable film to consider in any respect, but without discomfort it's hard to feel anger - and without anger, it's hard to imagine that anything will ever be done about it.

Imbued as it is with a sense of discomforting truth, it is a worthwhile examination of human nature -- and one with a message well worth heeding.

Certainly one of the more engaging and alluring films released so far in 2017.

A winner, through and through.

A movie with a message, but the subtle kind; it's whispered wisdom, wrapped up in a story of mystery, of love, of regret, of repentance and redemption.

It's R-rated because it has grown-up things to say -- things about mortality, aging, guilt, regret, and about what happens when superheroes, tired of being superheroes, start thinking very dark, very human thoughts.

This less ambitious movie will inevitably suffer in comparisons to "Secrets and Lies" or Leigh's earlier "Naked," yet on its own terms it's perfectly successful. And as always with Leigh's intimately scaled, actor-friendly pictures, the performances could scarcely be better. [22 Aug 1997, p.L26]

Not only does Franco entertainingly capture all the attendant insanity -- as written about by "The Room" co-star Greg Sestero in the 2013 book on which The Disaster Artist is based -- but he has fun with it. He also, however, takes the opportunity to dig a little deeper and find the humanity at the root of it all.

Fueled by driving beats, irreverent humor and stylish direction from first-timer Rich Peppiatt, it plays like an edgier, modern-day answer to 1991’s similarly rousing “The Commitments,” just with Irish-language rap standing in for American R&B.

Almodovar lets his movie become boring, and insufferably so.

Doesn't boast enough universal meaning to make it truly sing.

Beneath all that genre eye candy, though, resides a smart and moving story that, after a somewhat slow-moving first hour, builds nicely to become an emotionally engaging drama.

It continuously feels less like straight-up reportage and more like a fan film, one built on equal parts idol worship and wishful thinking.

It's called Chico & Rita, but their film could just as easily have been titled "Chico & Cuba." In both cases, it's a film are about a long-lost love, and in both cases it is steeped in such a pitch-perfect sense of place -- and affection -- that you can almost smell the cigar smoke as it unfolds.

It is fast, it is fun.

World War II dramas might be common enough, but, amid them all, Lore stands as an uncommon entry in the genre.

Complemented by striking, well-conceived visuals, in Fukunaga's hands Bronte's tale of love and woe becomes one well worth repeating.

Seeing Brannaman work in the warm, sun-dappled documentary Buck makes it clear why he was such a perfect fit for Redford's film: Few people can handle horses the way Brannaman does.

The wholesomeness and embraceable spirit of Their Finest will likely strike a chord with the sort of moviegoer who is drawn to such a film. But that doesn't mean it's as good a film as it could have been.