This is what makes Anderson's film so infuriating. It's so damned irresistible -- until it becomes so damned insufferable, getting lost in a marijuana fog of poorly explained plot developments and indecipherable twists. Still, it's hard to look away for fear of missing some other equally inspired flourish.

Big Eyes is not dissimilar to the Keane paintings at its center. That is, it's by no means flawless, but there's an odd attraction there, something intriguing that draws you in and makes you want to find out if there's anything worthwhile there. You can say what you will about Keane's work, but in the case of Burton's film, these "Eyes" have it.

While Graham Moore's screenplay isn't without its flaws, it brilliantly weaves into the story a case that being different shouldn't necessarily be a negative thing. In fact, The Imitation Game argues in no uncertain terms that those differences can be something to celebrate, not to "cure."

As glossy and well-produced as Unbroken is, it doesn't stray too terribly far from Hollywood convention. In fact, its very story structure is so traditional that it's mirrored by Clint Eastwood's "American Sniper."

As strong as that cast and those visuals are, however, they don't quite add up enough to guarantee a happily-ever-after for moviegoers looking for a memorable in-theater experience.

There are other movies out this year that are more technically ambitious than Wild (I'm thinking "Birdman.") There are others that are wider-reaching in scope and sheer audacity (the 12-years-in-the-making "Boyhood"). But there aren't any others that offer the power and profundity of Wild. This movie is a gift. It's also a journey.

That's a lot of storytelling going on, and it costs Battle of the Five Armies a certain cohesion.

Unfortunately, the longer this Annie goes on, the more steam it loses.

Yes, it is first and foremost a thorough chronicling of the Deepwater Horizon disaster, but its real value is in its function as an expose on the energy industry, which, with aid and abetting from the federal government, repeatedly places profit above all else, including environmental concerns and human safety.

Flaws aside, the journey will be largely worth it for audiences, particularly for fans of the genre.

And let's be honest: Hawking and Wilde's romance is lovely in its own way. But his scientific work? That's important. That's staggering. That's life-changing, not just for him, but for all of us. And The Theory of Everything? Despite that title, and despite those performances, it just doesn't feel like any of those things.

With no real beginning and no real ending, the unsatisfying "Mockingjay Part 1" is essentially all middle -- one big, stretched out, watered-down second act. The result is a handsome film, but also a talky one that takes a while to hit its storytelling stride and that, once there, repeatedly stalls to fill time.

Whiplash is, at its core, about jazz -- that smoothest, mellowest of American art forms. But don't let that fool you. Writer-director Damien Chazelle's impressive sophomore effort is about as rock 'n' roll as a movie about jazz can possibly be.

Even when Laggies strains against its contrived conceit, his (Rockwell) chemistry with Knightley goes a long way in classing up the joint and making Shelton's film feel just deep enough to pass muster.

It is nothing if not a nice film. But it's little more than that.

As far as 'toons go, it's probably most reminiscent of Pixar's "The Incredibles," given that both are stories about superhero teams. There are also echoes of "How to Train Your Dragon" in the flying scenes, featuring little Hiro perched atop Baymax's back. But even then, Big Hero 6 still feels like its own, distinct creature.

From the first line of its deep, rapid-fire dialog all the way through to its trippy ending -- which is guaranteed prompt discussion on the drive home -- Inarritu has crafted a film that begs to be rewatched, with the promise of each repeated viewing bringing something new.

Aja's film ends up being an fairly satisfying Halloween diversion, using those magical horns to overcome its flaws and transform itself into a decidedly dark, but weirdly sweet, ride.

The most impressive thing about Simien's film is his script, which he wrote. With multiple protagonists and multiple storylines to serve, he deftly manages to keep a number of balls in the air -- without losing sight of his film's purpose.

John Wick makes a few feeble attempts at witty repartee, but, in the end, Leitch and Stahelski's film feels like an unintentional parody of itself.

The Best of Me is full-on Nicholas Sparks, through and through, checking all the boxes in the by-now well-established formula. It's just not the best of Nicholas Sparks.

It's an engrossing film, rich with action and emotion.

Amusing as it often is, it's all also fairly predictable stuff. If there's one thing Arteta's script is missing, it's imagination.

There's something haunting going on in The Notebook -- in the story, in the performances, in the overall atmosphere -- that makes it hard to look away from, and equally hard to forget.

The result is a film that is engrossing for stretches, that will raise your hackles -- and maybe the hair on the back of your neck -- especially if you believe in the vital role journalism plays in a free society. At the same time, though, it also feels a bit like a by-the-numbers affair.

Love is Strange doesn't really have any sort of sense of urgency about it. To the contrary, it feels rather mundane, as their problems -- while both unfortunate and unfair -- feel relatively small when put in perspective.

It's in the film's Africa-set scenes -- at the film's start and again in its closing 25 minutes or so -- when The Good Lie is at its best. This is where the story is at its most moving and rewarding.

Starred Up isn't just violence for violence's sake. Rather, it is a surprisingly layered, hard-hitting human drama, one that cuts to the bone -- albeit with a homemade prison knife.