What is missing is any sort of psychological insight. Just what made Renato run? You won't find out here.

Even smut can be dull.

Beginning as an adorable romcom, Hungry Hearts morphs into a disturbing but not particularly illuminating story of mental illness.

Would it have been tacky to visually play up the connection between Tolkien’s harrowing experiences on the WWI battlefield and his depiction of Mordor in the books? Perhaps. Beyond the briefest of allusions, Karukoski tastefully leaves that to the imagination. But this — like much of the film — is a tastefulness that induces sleepiness. Tolkien’s estate was not supportive of this film, understandably: The legendary author’s work is memorial enough.

You can't fault the film's elegant look. But you have to wonder why Shakhnazarov, one of Russian's most experienced filmmakers, didn't take more care with the script.

It turns out the stories don't unite at all. Instead, we get a series of dramatic vignettes, most of them decently executed but all of them rooted in the weepy sensibility of TV movies.

Matthew Broderick graduates from "boyish" and lurches straight into "curmudgeonly" in the would-be indie heartwarmer Wonderful World.

There isn't anything terribly exciting or original on offer in the somewhat poky directing debut of screenwriter Zach Helm.

Ultimately breaks down under the weight of too many characters and unbelievable twists.

The teen dance drama Step Up seems like it was not only inspired by a Janet Jackson video but entirely written during one.

The tone is good-natured enough to make a simple movie semi-watchable.

Under Mark Palansky's uninspired direction, magic eludes Penelope in scene after scene.

She’s (Fey) so good that — up to a point — you can ignore Paul Weitz’ erratic direction and a patchy script, both of which clumsily handle shifts between comedy and drama.

You are unlikely to see a movie about incest made as sensitively and tastefully as Womb. And although the characters speak English, the film is firmly anchored in European sensibilities, thanks to its Hungarian director, Benedek Fliegauf.

Khouri seems never to have met a "chick flick" cliché she didn't like, from the ubiquity of emotional telephone conversations to the lachrymose (but entirely predictable and dramatically flabby) reconciliation at the end.

One of those painfully earnest -- and pretentious -- little indies in which a pair of emotional cripples neatly resolve all of their problems within 48 hours of meeting each other.

Sorry to Raid on your parade, “Ant-Man” fans, but the third chapter is a pile of dirt.

There is also a fair amount of boy-on-boy sex, which would be the main reason for seeing No Regret, no matter what your sexual orientation might be.

You never believe Buck is the genuine article, so moments of danger and even cute mannerisms don’t land. Even the best-trained contestant at Westminster has some unpredictability.

Pugh, a sensational actress, keeps our interest as she grows increasingly suspicious and sees disturbing visions in mirrors and on windows. She brings class and gravitas to a movie that would otherwise be kinda trashy.

Cusack shows that he can still play the sensitive-but-fun guy until the ladies sigh and the men take notes.

First Comes Love seems punishingly long. It’s no more visually arresting than anybody else’s home movies, and the film’s creator fails to connect her subset of Manhattan privilege to anyone or anything other than herself.

With seemingly no understanding of how tone-deaf it might be to cast a straight, white, able-bodied blonde like Schumer as victimized by society’s judgment, the lazily written I Feel Pretty takes a talented comic and casts her in the worst possible light (and I don’t mean that literally — she looks fine).

This is grim, bleak material that at times is monotonous, but its woe feels authentic.

It often seems like an acting workshop: Behave as if you are the parent of a dead child.

I don’t know how many sex scenes featuring Winstone and Atwell you can handle, but the movie breaches my limit, which is a firm zero.

A wilderness survival romance that makes subzero weather, blizzards and broken limbs seem as taxing as a train delay.

I hereby award the World War II drama The Great Raid a Cement Star for faithful and distinguished service to the cause of mediocrity.