Lacking personality or insight, King Jack is a ho-hum tale of young aggression—been there, bruised that.

The threat of a comedy lurks around corners in "Tikkun.

One of the essential documentaries on Hollywood.

Taking on a novel that’s already been adapted by two of the greatest filmmakers of all time should give any contemporary director pause, you would think. But Benoît Jacquot shows no signs of intimidation in his Diary of a Chambermaid.

I’m not the only one who was at least slightly taken aback, though, by a persistent quirk in the movie’s casting, which is that not one of the Lions of American Literature in this picture was played by, well, an American.

There's not much awe showcased here. The film is mainly horseplay, wasted motion, and talk, talk, talk, with a few good action scenes.

I’m also hoping that the game is more emotionally engaging — or at least, you know, fun — than the movie I just saw. Because that thing was a dour mess.

A movie that’s as empty and unlikable as the characters themselves.

From Afar, in any case, is built on reticence.

The Conjuring 2 doesn’t live up to the films that inspired it (or the original) not because of the filmmaking laziness we so often see in horror (especially sequels), but almost because Wan and company are having too much fun to streamline their film.

The movie has an undeniable black hole at its center in the fact that it barely mentions Axl Rose, and includes no original Guns N' Roses recordings.

A beautiful portrait of the man himself, still going strong at age 76, as well as a critique of the art world that has ignored him (and others) because they don't "fit."

As for the fights: There are plenty of well-choreographed battles in The Final Master. The award-winning choreography eschews wire work, keeping the action sequences squarely on the ground.

The main reason that Time to Choose feels different and has value is that it actually offer solutions and hope.

South Korean horror-mystery hybrid The Wailing crosses that line several times, but somehow remains effectively atmospheric.

It is well-intentioned, conscientious and competent in its filmmaking craft.

An effective and creepy-surreal film.

This is a powerful movie, but perhaps its greatest triumph is that for a brief time it resurrects Kitty Genovese, and lets us see her as a person.

This is the kind of movie that leaves you with the impression that more thought was put into catchphrases and fan service than into a compelling plot, thoughtful characterizations or imaginative action choreography.

Holy Hell should have dug a lot deeper and told its story with a lot more finesse. What happened? Maybe, after all these years, Allen was still too close to his subject?

Not the type of Iraq soldier film one may expect. It does present intricate experiences of PTSD, but does so with distance.

Luckily, many of the plot’s maudlin pitfalls are greatly mitigated by the film’s utterly infectious leading lady. Emilia Clarke’s performance is winningly immersed in charming gawkiness and heartfelt sincerity.

What’s good about this movie is funny, and refreshing, enough to make the dry spots feel more tolerable in retrospect.

While Salles’ portrait gives a very incomplete account of the man and his art, it pays tribute to a filmmaker who remains among the medium’s foremost and most fascinating creators.

Director Kevin Kerslake explores Goldstein’s life, providing a full portrait of a person who signifies a huge change in modern music.

This entertaining narrative documentary is very firmly in the ferment/fervency/fulfillment camp.

It’s all inspiring stuff, to be sure—and often so dramatic that it’s hard to imagine it really could have happened, even though it did.

There are laughs and uncomfortable observations throughout, but Tsangari never lays on too heavy a hand. One is free to contemplate the allegorical and satirical implications, but also free to enjoy the spectacle of self-imposed insecurity that plays out among these characters.