Although there are some structural and pacing issues, the film as a whole works by doing David Lynch’s favorite trick: finding the rot underlying the seemingly placid exterior of small town America.

Bloodshot suffers from a world-building failure. With too little time and emphasis placed on crafting the setting and exploring some of the rich possibilities of the milieu in which events transpire, the movie turns into little more than a ho-hum Vin Diesel action film.

Spenser Confidential is a perfect Netflix movie – a mid-budget action/thriller featuring a recognizable star and not requiring much in the way of attention or dedication from a viewer.

Despite narrative issues, the film is overall affecting and effective with Ben Affleck’s powerful performance being a driving force.

It’s solidly entertaining, contains an element of emotional resonance, looks and sounds great, but isn’t special.

For all his passion to tell this story, Heckler doesn’t seem sure of the best way to conclude it.

Whannell fails to address how easily the power of invisibility can be foiled in today’s world where anyone can buy cheap (less than $200) infrared goggles for overnight delivery.

Watching 63 Up as a stand-alone endeavor may not seem remarkable. In fact, it may even be a little boring. But watching it as part of the larger picture imbues it with immediacy and power.

Harrison Ford gives as dignified a performance as he has managed in many years. And the cinematography (by veteran Janusz Kaminski) is glorious. But the tonal shifts threaten to cause whiplash and the “improvements” made to London’s book (presumably to make it more cinematic) undermine both the thematic and narrative integrity of the tale.

The chief problem with Seberg, as is often the case with biopics, is that the filmmakers never really find the character underlying the historical figure.

The biggest shock of this new movie re-imagination is that it makes the original seem fresh and smart by comparison. Perhaps that makes this whole endeavor nothing more than TV producer Aaron Spelling’s posthumous fantasy.

It’s a 99-minute commercial designed to drive sales of merchandise. Okay, it’s not as bad as "Super Mario Brothers," but that’s damning with faint praise.

Taken as a whole, the approach doesn’t work and ultimately comes across as more off-putting than successful.

The movie starts with a series of kaleidoscopic, high-energy scenes that prove to be Birds of Prey’s high point. Even in these early moments, there’s a sense that narrative isn’t going to be a big selling point for this movie and those misgivings prove to be correct.

Unevenly paced and with a miscast lead, the movie fails to get us to care about its automaton main character as she goes through the motions in a generic spy thriller.

Ritchie’s strengths as a filmmaker don’t include developing complex female personalities so Dockery’s Rosalind is more like a male fantasy caricature of a strong woman than an actual character.

So, for Bad Boys for Life, we avoid a trip into the lowest depths of hell in favor of a dead end.

Even the characters with the most screen time are (at best) slightly developed – there’s just enough humanity for us to be interested in whether they survive, although any emotional attachment is minimal.

The movie stands out as one of the year’s most memorable experiences.

It’s a big-screen cartoon and, although it may work for its target audience – video game-consuming pre-teen boys – other viewers may find the production to be lacking in anything beyond a little visual razzle-dazzle.

Jamie Foxx, compelled to take the role for personal reasons, turns in what could arguable be the best performance of a varied career. (Others might say that the distinction belongs to his work in Ray.)

Gerwig is trying for something a little different, juggling the time frame and creating a “meta” ending to make the story’s feminist themes overt and incorporate an ambiguous “twist” that some will see as clever and others may find heretical.

With Bombshell, thanks in large part to the contributions of his actors, Roach has crafted a compelling “ripped from the headlines” motion picture that unfolds like a page-turner. Unfortunately, with little room for nuance or detail, it lacks the depth necessary to make it more than a superficial dissection of what amounted to low-hanging fruit in the 2010s series of major headline sexual harassment revelations.

An individual’s appreciation of Cats may rest on a previous love of the stage play; others are more likely to throw up a hairball than purr in contentment.

The movie consists of a bunch of random events and, if you pause long enough to consider things like plot and motivation (something you’re not supposed to do), it becomes evident that most of the movie doesn’t make any sense. Add to that an anti-climactic ending, scattershot editing, and too many extraneous characters and the last Star Wars movie is the most bloated and least satisfying of all the main-line adventures.

The edgy, claustrophobic approach to filmmaking is there, as is the importance of setting. There’s never a clear sense of where the movie is headed and, when it gets there, it arrives with a bang.

By keeping the tone from becoming too somber and generating a degree of sympathy for Jewell, Eastwood has crafted an engaging (albeit fictionalized) account of the triumph of ordinary men over the establishment.

The Next Level feels a little too much like a money grab and, although moderately entertaining on a popcorn level, there’s a sense of missed opportunity.