The images in The Good Lie have the power to disturb but lack the gut-punch impact necessary to give us an immediate and lasting connection to the protagonists.

Ultimately an uplifting movie because it is about triumph.

The film conveys energy, color, and movement from start to finish, irrespective of whether Polina is dancing, bartending, or trying to catch a few moments of sleep in a laundromat.

This isn’t a good movie in the conventional sense of the word but it may hit the sweet spot for those who have declared their affection for the slacker musicians originated by Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter more than 30 years ago.

Because I so enjoyed the last 45 minutes, I'm tempted to recommend it. The problem is that you have to sit through an hour to get to the worthwhile parts.

The screenplay is quirky enough to resemble an unfinished Coen Brothers narrative but mainstream enough to appeal to a broad audience.

Despite some great acting, Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool is a largely unpleasant viewing experience and the downbeat tone isn’t helped by a narrative that flits back and forth in time without rhyme or reason, sometimes confusing the viewer with the needlessly convoluted transitions from flashback to present (and vice versa).

The result is a mature and challenging motion picture, and something that will stick with viewers after the screen has gone dark.

Along the way, there are moments of pathos and light humor but Last Flag Flying only occasionally ventures into melodrama or silliness, and those instances are easily forgiven.

Pussycat is classic Meyer. The three leads are all topheavy, the action-packed plot is paper-thin, there are loads of double-entendres amidst the cheesy dialogue, and the style is pure low-budget. This is fun stuff, to be sure, but definitely of the "guilty pleasure" sort.

The Conjuring 2 proves that, with a sufficient investment of time and energy, sequels don’t have to be unsatisfying cash-grabs.

Director Todd Haynes' (Safe) much-anticipated look at the "glam rock" scene of two decades ago, is like a jigsaw puzzle with half of the pieces missing.

This Blumhouse production marries fish-out-of-water elements with some philosophical musings and offbeat characters that might remind viewers of (Robert) Altman lite. The ending feels a little forced, as if the filmmakers felt that not providing some kind of punch might disappoint viewers, but there are enough little pleasures along the way to more than compensate.

Made well, this sort of material has the potential for a deliciously lurid two hours. But Feig's lack of aptitude with the material results in a cheap and artificial product, never really drawing the viewer into its web and spinning an overlong yarn that fails to embrace an identity.

Anyone who enjoys well-executed romances will find a lot to like about this film, but it lacks the strength of originality evident in those movies that inhabit the genre's top echelon.

A movie assembled from diverse pieces that don't quite match. It's the cinematic equivalent of a patchwork quilt.

The screenplay stretches the viewer's credulity far beyond the breaking point, asking us to accept dozens of absurd contrivances and coincidences.

Caught Stealing gives [Aronofsky] the right canvas, and he delivers with enough style to lift the film above the B-movie neo-noir roots of its screenplay.

The three leads provide convincing performances, with Dakota Fanning being the standout.

The unpretentious, easy-to-digest style and short running length (a shade over 90 minutes), when coupled with strong acting (especially on Williams' part), make My Week with Marilyn a pleasant end-of-the-year diversion.

Simply isn't a very good motion picture.

Salt is more than mere seasoning; it's a full bouillabaisse comprised of bits and pieces of James Bond, "The Manchurian Candidate," "The Bourne Identity," TV's "24," and the Nelson DeMille novel "The Charm School."

Mockingjay Part 1, released a year ago, was a disjointed, incomplete affair and, although Mockingjay Part 2 is more polished, the pace is uneven and there’s a sense that the series has hung around too long.

Ultimately, the plot (irrespective of how faithful it is to real life) isn't the problem - it's the unevenness with which co-directors Glenn Ficarra and John Requa (both making their directorial debuts) approach it that limits the film's success and mutes the experience of sitting through it.

The content is actually pretty bland -- it's not incisive, it's not daring, it's not uproarious, and it's not very good.

There are not a lot of laughs in Dan Rush's directorial debut, nor are there intended to be. Rush keeps the tone as light as possible, but no one would mistake this for anything other than a quirky, character-based drama.

It's disappointing that so much talent has been assembled with so little to do.

Taken on its own, Saving Mr. Banks is a pleasant, crowd-pleasing endeavor. For those with a soft spot for Mary Poppins, however, it's a treasure.