It’s a tall order to deliver a portrayal of such an auspicious historical character. Little effort is made to glorify him, and Scott makes sure that the audience renders their own judgement on his significance in history.

May December is a movie about moral gray zones, a look at contemporary culture through the unique Todd Haynes lens. What’s involved are great writing and great performances.

Despite some interesting action scenes, the movie is far too long at two hours and 40 minutes. Worse yet, you’re always aware that you’re watching a movie.

Dubious, predictable, and short on character development, this B-movie cheesefest is nonetheless watchable thanks to a spirited performance from Odeya Rush (Lady Bird).

The lighter moments are the best reason to catch The Marvels. Getting a reprieve on the running time is a close second.

The film’s view is simply too narrow to be comprehensive on such a startling and potentially life-altering/life-ending subject. That said, it’s a chilling surface look into yet another unanticipated side effect of our ostensibly great wired society.

Butcher’s Crossing is a decent western, with decent performances. It’s a film that delivers what’s expected. But for a story that could give Captain Ahab a run for his money, getting the expected is a bit disappointing.

There is an emotional core to Priscilla, and in Coppola’s gentle way, we’re shown a portrait of an unusual relationship, and come away with a less flattering picture of Elvis, more of the fallible human, as opposed to the music icon, frozen in time.

Rustin is not about the man who had a dream in front of the roaring throngs, but the man standing behind him who gave King the stage. It’s a pleasure to get to know him.

Such tales never get stale, and the ones in Beyond Utopia are almost beyond belief.

Add a bit of road movie misadventure, a la Payne’s Sideways, and you have a Christmas movie with spirit and wit, with a minimum of mawkish sentiment.

Zero “rom” and very little “com.” The action sequences are perhaps the best parts of the film. Director Pierre Morel sure knows how to crash a helicopter! But there’s only so many times you can watch Cena shoot, fight or drive his way out of danger.

If Five Nights at Freddy’s has anything to offer in the way of entertainment, scares, and authentic memorabilia, it was buried beneath the determined pandering to those addicted to being on the inside of the joke.

It’s an oddly funny journey, punctuated by some deliciously inventive camerawork (including the longest dissolve I’ve ever seen), a jazz-inflected score, and a treasured piece of vinyl that will have you searching out ’70s Argentine rock/blues band Pappo’s Blues.

This is an exhilarating action picture. The Killer involves brutal violence leavened with incisive social commentary, all of it put across with great Fincher style. And bloodletting.

The film is broad, campy, audacious and arrives with high expectations. But Dicks ultimately disappoints — and the inherent joke that goes with that line should not pass underappreciated. The title is the joke. But it’s a joke that doesn’t get as much play as it should.

Pain Hustlers waits until very late in the game to really drive home some of the horrors behind the opioid epidemic. For too long we’re complicit with its characters. And maybe that’s what it’s going for; but if so, it left me with a mildly unpleasant aftertaste. Not quite what the doctor ordered.

As an intelligent, adult examination of a marriage gone sour, wrapped up in the trappings of a legal thriller, Anatomy of a Fall is original and engaging, though perhaps not so profound an investigation into truth as some of its advocates have claimed.

There is a lovely kookiness to The Persian Version which elevates an essentially straight-up mother-daughter conflict story with myriad snappy visuals and storytelling devices before settling into its main narrative trajectory, advancing the idea that we are all just doing the best we can with whatever tools we have.

Scorsese is a master at his peak who has made deliberate choices about the story he wants to tell, and the way he wants to tell it, and he makes all of it count.

In Iain Reid’s source-material novel, there are literary tricks that spell it out more clearly. But the script and execution here fails to launch, with too much ”Why?” holding it down.

The film is, in a word, ostentatiously odd. Whether one finds it insightfully askew or laboriously quirky will be a matter of taste.

This visual memoir paints a picture of a woman who, while leading a rich professional life, was plagued by personal demons.

There are many reasons why The Exorcist worked and still does, and why The Exorcist: Believer doesn’t and never will. But to explore the difference between the films too profoundly would be to legitimize Green’s film as a worthy successor to William Friedkin’s masterpiece. It isn’t.

I’ve never been a fan of time travel as a premise for a science fiction story but Relax, I’m From the Future puts a more… well, relaxed spin on the well-worn sci-fi trope.

This is toxic masculinity seen from a feminist viewpoint; rest assured the women are not victims.

The intersection of Hollywood and Pandemic provided ample lessons in how NOT to respond to terrible real-world happening. To wit: Don’t make a quick, inexpensive, exploitative “inspired by true events” movie just to capitalize on tragedy.

If everything is fair in love and war, buckle your seatbelts. Aided by a superb cast, writer-director Chloe Domont makes a strong feature debut with Fair Play, a deft drama about gender dynamics in intimate relationships and in the workplace.