One note portrayals, skin deep characters, and a glacial pace all combine to prevent The Quarry from succeeding either as a slow-burn thriller or a message-oriented drama.

We’ve seen this kind of thing before but it’s done with sufficient schmaltz to work on its own terms. Damning with faint praise? You betcha, but that’s all I have.

The movie is handsomely mounted and consistently engaging. Yes, the story is familiar but part of the charm is seeing how key scenes have been re-envisioned by the filmmakers.

The film maintains a light tone and, although that creates a breezy, unforced approach, it also undercuts tension. (If they were trying to replicate the delicate balance achieved by Wes Craven in Scream, they haven’t completely succeeded.)

Trolls World Tour is better suited to watching at home than in a theater. It’s a shadow of its predecessor, a regurgitation of some of the elements that made the first one popular but without the sense of spontaneous fun.

The beating heart of Never Rarely Sometimes Always isn’t Autumn’s struggle with terminating her pregnancy; it’s the way the two girls discover companionship and the strength it offers.

Weaknesses in the movie’s final 15-20 minutes don’t detract from how enjoyable the rest of the film is with its over-the-top gore, wild misdirections, surprising twists, and unsubtle stereotype-based lampooning.

The movie demands a willing suspension of disbelief and, for those who can accommodate, it opens a portal into a hellish, allegorical nightmare about the placid myth of suburbia gone wrong.

The humor avoids becoming too outrageous. This is like an indie version of Olivia Wilde’s "Booksmart," which was filmed after Banana Split despite being released earlier. Both films offer complex perspectives of high school-oriented female friendships without demanding a happy ending for the happy ending.

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.