The Killer Inside Me isn’t for everyone, and even some people who think it’s their sort of thing might be offended. But it’s too well made to dismiss outright for its twisted cruelty. Maybe that’s a compliment, maybe not.

Eventually the chemistry between Collette and Church wins out, and Lucky Them makes for a diverting, if forgettable, romantic comedy.

Thought-provoking, making this a solid date movie science geeks and philosophy freaks alike.

What Johansson does in Lucy won't win her any prizes, but it establishes her ability to carry a movie that has some ideas, however half-baked, and has nothing to do with her obvious sex appeal.

As usual in Le Carre's world (and the real one), a measured, rational approach faces an uphill battle against the philistines who really run the show. That predictably weary attitude is both the best — as embodied in Hoffman's performance — and worst — in its weary predictability — things about A Most Wanted Man.

The revelation is Arquette. While the focus is on Coltrane and how he grew up onscreen, it's Arquette that's at the center of this incredible journey. She puts herself out there year after year, getting knocked down and getting up stronger. Her final scenes have the power and heartbreak every parent knows -- it's all about holding a child's hand, then letting it go.

It's not as if empathetic peeks into the lives of America's poor white boys aren't valuable, and Hellion has nothing if not empathy for every one of its characters. But without a more original story or a distinctive visual presence, it's hard for it to rise above a crowded field.

Its director, Rob Reiner, is 67 himself. So his film takes a less ageist tone, seeing its characters – played by Michael Douglas, 69, and Diane Keaton, 68 – not as old people but simply as people, living vital but complicated lives. If only the movie itself were as vital and complicated.

Citizen Koch doesn't have a narrator, and that's fine, but it tosses out a lot of information and doesn't pull it into a compelling movie.

This sequel, thankfully, is faster paced, and has more action.

In the end, Sex Tape doesn't seduce, doesn't surprise and certainly doesn't satisfy. It only leaves you feeling a little taken advantaged of, as you take your walk of shame back to your car – and hoping you never hear from it again.

Christensen, who played the James Bond villain Mr. White in "Casino Royale" and "Quantum of Solace," cuts a striking, white-haired figure as Segerstedt, whose principled tirades against Hitler ultimately earn him the enmity of his prime minster and even his king.

I came away impressed at how Haggis made something original and real.

The apes and the special effects team are the real stars of Dawn of the Planet of the Apes.

Behind the on-field shenanigans and eccentric personalities, there's a meatier story about the corporatization of sports and the disappearance of the barnstorming attitude Bing Russell took as a virtual religion.

If Rod Serling had hired Robert Altman to direct a "Twilight Zone" episode, it might have turned out something like this.

It's all clichéd, of course, and has been since "The Exorcist" but it's still effective, perhaps more so with anyone who, like our hero cop, comes from the world of scented smoke and altar boys.

Grating attempt at comedy, the latest failed attempt to capitalize on McCarthy's considerable charm.

Anyone who shares Ebert's love of movies and who followed his career will be exceptionally moved by Life Itself, but anyone who appreciates a well-lived life should be touched as well.

It's not particularly logical and it's not particularly fun. As deliberately amateur as the herky-jerky photography is, the rest of the film isn't much more professional.

The problem is the song. It was gone as soon as it ended, a forgettable piece of soft-pop that was never going to be a hit, whatever the arrangement or the singer.

Junger smartly lets each individual be himself. Korengal seeks understanding, not judgment.

The bi-culturalism actually is kind of fitting. Asia sends us their junk as toys. We repurpose that junk and send it back as movies. See? Recyling. Everybody wins. Except audiences.

Once the quartet makes it big, things get predictable really fast. Eastwood seems to forget that audiences made The Jersey Boys a touring sensation because they love the songs, not because they want to see yet another "Behind the Music"-style tale of fame and fortune not being all they're cracked up to be.

This is the sort of film that only makes sense as a rental, with, perhaps, a couple of friends and a very generously mixed pitcher of margaritas.

Politics aside, Obvious Child hinges on Slate's performance, which is endearing and real.

Like its 2010 predecessor, it's one of the most gorgeous computer-animated kids' films you'll come across, and one of the few that uses 3-D smartly and effectively.

Just think back to everything that was funny in "21 Jump Street." It's exactly the same.

The fault is not in the stars -- they're fine -- it's in the way they're put through what amounts to emotional overkill.

The movie's centerpiece and peak is the operation itself, which Reichardt depicts with the pulse-pounding patience of a classic heist sequence like that in "Rififi."

Much of Words and Pictures is second-rate. A subplot involving a sexual harassment case is clumsily handled and a talented supporting cast, particularly Bruce Davison and Amy Brenneman, is underused.

Liman stages the chaotic action scenes, including several iterations of the beach assault, with clarity, precision, and wit. This is his best movie since 2002's "The Bourne Identity."

A fair amount of traumatic stuff happens in 2 Autumns, 3 Winters... But writer/director Sébastien Betbeder's French seriocomic romance still feels light (or emotionally distant, depending), thanks to the film's fusillade of stylistic tics.

A moderately enchanting, sometimes thought-provoking corrective to the flaws in the story that inspired it.

While Shepard just does his grim, weathered, Sam Shepard shtick, and Hall seems oddly miscast as the tense, prickly Dale, Johnson's easy, gritty charm is a much-needed buffer between their colliding obsessions.

Palo Alto is "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" without the wit; "River's Edge" without the depth. It's like reading a first novel by a talented writer who has something to say but isn't yet sure how to say it.

A little slapstick, a sexy twist, and we're all happy.

There are plenty of very funny jokes in the movie, but near-fatal lulls whenever it tries to make MacFarlane into a romantic lead or a genuinely inspiring hero — in other words, whenever it tries to make us like him.

He plays it so low-key there's nothing much for him to do, apart from the clueless-dad shtick and some awkward comedy with an ostrich. The big laughs never come.

It's not clear that Ayoade has anything new to say about these time-worn themes, but he has fun creating the world of the film.

It turns out to be a delight, funny and insightful in a sideways way.

Favreau's a big man who knows how to wield a chef's knife and shoots the food truck scenes with a hectic good nature that's infectious.

You can almost feel Depp restraining himself from saying "Tell me more about Hunter," again and again, but his enthusiasm and appreciation are real, and that's a pretty good reason for this movie to exist.

Hold onto your hats, True Believers! This one's got the most massive, momentous montage of Marvel's merry mutants ever mashed into one movie!

What's best about Belle is the performance of Ebatha-Raw.

The potentially huge audience for Million Dollar Arm deserves a better movie, less derivative and cynical and more like something real.

The worry regarding 2014's Godzilla was that it would seem like a retread of recent big-budget monster mashes "Cloverfield" or "Pacific Rim," or, worse yet, that it would sink to the depths of the 1998 American reboot. Happily, though, this one can stand on its own two enormous three-toed feet.

It's a fascinating instance of a filmmaker working with self-imposed rules, but never forgetting that those restrictions are only worthwhile to the extent that they serve character and story. It's a ride well worth taking.

With evocative performances, especially from the two women, and a nicely modulated sense of nostalgia, Ilo Ilo marks the emergence of a promising new cinematic voice.

Next Goal Wins isn't the most slickly made documentary, and its chronology can be confusing at times. But, despite a bit of salty language, it's an inspiring, never-say-die chronicle for all ages.

Everything feels flat and listless, like an August afternoon in the city with no air conditioning. Hoffman shambles through his scenes, no spark in his eyes, getting it done without the energy and spirit that was his stock in trade.

What's unusual about DamNation isn't its politics but its production and distribution. It was financed by Patagonia and its chairman, Yvon Chouinard, and will be screened in Patagonia stores.

Neighbors makes "Animal House" look like "Remembrances of Things Past."

A surprisingly in-depth and confrontational examination into the obesity epidemic among Americans, especially children, over the last 30 years.

So lame and tasteless that it's hard to know what possessed Turturro to write it and anyone to finance it.

With strong performances, the gorgeously overwhelming environment (the sounds of wind and flies are practically supporting characters), and at least one agonizingly long close-up, Age of Uprising unsettles as it raises troubling questions about the price, morality and flexibility of a "principled stand."

ASM 2 makes too many of the same mistakes that have brought other superhero movies low (including Sam Raimi's "Spider-Man 3"). It tries to pack in too many characters and plot lines, for one.

Even if her turn in Bright Days Ahead feels overly familiar, especially after Deneuve's recent "On My Way," Ardant is still possessed of the same Gallic poise and presence, and generally a joy to watch.

Plot takes a back seat to style and attitude, as it often does in Jarmuch's world, which can make the last half-hour of the movie drag a bit. But when that means getting to hang out with two fascinating creatures of the night, played by two fascinating performers, that's a perfectly valid trade-off.

This smart crime story from writer/director Jeremy Saulnier avoids wading into the waters of righteousness that drown many violent movies.

Partridge is a smidgen less abhorrent here than in previous incarnations, but just a smidgen.

It's mostly full of schlock.

The only thing missing from this steaming casserole, in fact, is the one crucial ingredient: A sense of humor.

See it for Belle. See it for the parkour. And for the wonderfully magical spectacle of a man flying.

This compelling piece of historical detective work is, in fact, less about what people have done to the islands than about what living on the islands has done to people.

Hers is a sad story, but the fact that she never received recognition during her lifetime isn't part of its sadness.

The Railway Man wants to be two or three different movies wrapped up in one and ends up being a fairly mediocre version of each.

The subtle menace of the would-be geneticist of the Master Race mingles with ordinary pre-teen foreboding to create a riveting cocktail of unease.

Gabrielle borders on the manipulative, but Archambault’s refusal to shy away from the tougher questions the narrative raises keeps it from being swallowed by its own sentimentality.

A thoroughly mundane experience.

The star's innate vulnerability (and his ease with Dom's colorful but expansive vocabulary) makes the character more sympathetic than he has any right to be. And that, in turn, makes Shepard's film more entertaining than the Guy Ritchie ripoff it initially resembles.

When the fly trapped in the spider's web is as clueless and selfish as the sap played by Mark Webber in 13 Sins, it's hard to muster much sympathy.

The Missing Picture feels akin to last year's great documentary, "The Act of Killing."

The scenes between Gainsbourg and Skarsgard are fewer and less engaging than in the first volume, and the dichotomy between them is simpler and more obvious. And that doesn't even include an ending that is as impulsive and deranged as anything Joe comes up with during all of her taboo-breaking adventures.

Throw in an unbearably gloomy plot involving overbearing or grieving parents and a pointed commentary on the corrupt, classist nature of modern Romania, and you're in for a downbeat evening. "The Lego Movie," this isn't.

There's nothing earth-shaking here, but a chance to see one of cinema's great movie stars in a tailor-made role that pleasantly subverts her icy image is always welcome.

Highly entertaining chronicle of a dream unfilmed.

A fascinating and frustrating film.

Joe works better as a study of character and environment than as the thriller it tries to become in its final act.

As a hypothetical, all-access documentary about the kookiest day in draft history, it's oddly satisfying, maybe because watching the actual, bloated spectacle (scheduled this year for May 8) is so often underwhelming.

Ernest & Celestine delivers a sweet message that should prove delightful to young and old alike. Though the premise makes it sound like it could be preachy, this cute children's story is anything but.

It’s still worthwhile to see such seasoned screen professionals working to create something meaningful.

There's a lot of ground to cover -- too much for a short documentary -- and Wolf goes past his boundaries for a quick, unnecessary glimpse of Sinatra, Vietnam, and some of what came after 1945.

Goodbye World will remind you more of "Gilligan's Island" than "Lost."

Young & Beautiful is mysterious and erotic, though the ending may leave some as cold as Isabelle.

Just as austere and demanding as you'd expect a black-and-white film about a Polish nun to be. Don't let that scare you, though.

Despite some of its more rickety story elements, Captain America: The Winter Soldier is possibly the studio's best action film and the one most able to stand on its own since the original "Iron Man."

So Ayer, the director of the new Sabotage, does it smartly, subtly, by keeping some of the Schwarzenegger totems -- the masculine power, the enormous armory, the drainpipe-sized cigars -- and raising the quality of the surroundings.

In spite of its familiar outlines, director Rob Meyer's first feature benefits from an authentic script and performances.

Stranger by the Lake is one of those vacations that’s all right while it’s happening, but the allure dissipates once you’ve gone back to your regular routine.

A crowd-pleasing import that would leave only the most steadfast curmudgeon unmoved.

It's a clear and moving story, although the messier edges of the man have been smoothed out, and some of the victories may have been exaggerated to provide a happier ending.

The film is best when it isn't trying to be an action epic, but is simply being a character study. Here stands a man, asked to prepare for an unspeakable thing by an unknowable presence.

While Burger, Daughtery and Taylor skimp on the characters’ interior lives, they do make some surprising improvements on the book.

In a movie that strives to offend with every spat profanity and cruel insult, the most shocking thing about Bad Words is that it expects us to care about its main character at all.

Blood Ties not only convincingly recreates its era, it seems like it could have been made then.

Once the story proper begins, it too feels slightly out of time.

Credit to Aaron Paul for fully committing to this ridiculousness. There isn’t a scene he doesn’t play with the utmost seriousness.