At a certain point, the pattern of Knoop’s reticence, then acquiescence to Albert’s masquerade becomes slightly repetitive, but JT LeRoy still gives a compelling inside look at the head-scratching hoax that succeeded, in part, due to musty notions of what a hot shot writer ought to look like.

Well, it smells, all right, but authentic isn't the word I'd use for this maudlin male weepie, a compendium of the worst clichés of sports and journalism movies.

The title It's About You is something Kurt Markus claims Mellencamp told him when he commissioned the film. With the elder Markus' self-important, egotistical narration rarely shutting up, it was a fairly prophetic remark.

Half as long and twice as much fun as the self-important "Lincoln," Roger Michell's charming sex-and-politics comedy Hyde Park on Hudson is basically a frothy tabloid take on presidential history. And for my money, that's a good thing in a season filled with puffed-up prestige pictures.

Turn the River lacks almost everything Eigeman has as a performer: charisma, wit and snappy delivery.

M. Night Shyamalan’s new thriller, Old, is campy, poorly written, candy-colored and subtle as Eurovision.

Maybe it's because I share Burton"s twisted affection for the 1970s, but for all its shortcomings, I'd sooner watch a sequel to Dark Shadows than another installment of the bloated "Pirates of the Caribbean" saga any day.

Never before have I been so emotionally involved with an apple core, or seen salvation in a flip-flop. Taika Waititi, you had me at nunchuks.

The new "Pelham," although no classic, is a lot of fun if you're in the right mood.

Beautifully shot and often moving.

A substandard attempt to outfit a World War II submarine with every haunted-house cliché known to man and filmmakers.

The entire film is a feast for the eyes that brings to mind the work of Hong Kong ace Wong Kar-Wai.

A summery confection crammed with fresh young talented faces that's hard not to love.

Reaches its climax on the main bathing day, with a throng of naked holy men leading the charge into the Ganges. You would be forgiven for thinking you're watching a hot July day at Coney Island.

Relying heavily on old network newscasts, Corben introduces a collection of colorful characters who just want to get stoned.

A wet, red chunk of pulp that knows what it is and doesn't care.

Sorvino brings a spark, but neither she nor Patti LuPone, in an amusing cameo, can overcome the clockwork-like plod to the end.

Cross “Dog Day Afternoon’’ with “The Big Short’’ and throw in a dash of “Network’’ and you’ve got Money Monster, a clever financial thriller with comic overtones that’s a solid investment of your time thanks to stellar work by George Clooney and Julia Roberts.

If you’re a Fab Four fan like I am, that setup itself sends you into an existential tizzy. But it makes for a likable, quirky movie that’s British writer Richard Curtis’ (“Bridget Jones’ Diary”) best work in years.

The Purge: Election Year imagines that, right now, laws are being ignored, people gun each other down with impunity and the death toll is horrendous. It’s too bad the title “Chicago” was already taken.

So gripping and focused that it easily bests Hollywood movies with 50 times its budget.

Maybe nothing here is supposed to be as scary as in the 1973 movie because this is merely the opening act. That's the problem with prequels, isn't it? It's like being asked to pay full price just to watch batting practice.

What a gift Zeitlin has with children. He showed that special skill with “Beasts,” but does even more so here, with the kid ensemble being full of personality and entirely unrestrained. The freedom and unbridled joy they find on the island are infectious, like their movie.

And how good should we feel about this match anyway? Absolutely anyone, we learn, can win the 1913 U.S. Open. Except blacks, Jews or women.

Unfortunately, Angelou's detached and often superfluous narration lessens the film's impact.

The bulk of the movie consists of scene after scene coyly setting up the same ironic juxtaposition, in the exact same way, about innocence vs. Nazism.

Does briefly sizzle in the scenes between Newton and French actress Christine Boisson, as the bisexual French police commander assigned to the case.

All movies require suspension of disbelief to a certain degree, but p.s. really pushes the envelope.