The movie has an organic intelligence and a sense that it, too, exists outside of linear time. It seems to be creating itself as you watch it.

The array of TV veterans assembled for the film don’t necessarily do anything wrong, and their charisma sometimes translates from small screen to big, but, as is so often the case with the indie dramedy, an unrealistic script lets down a talented cast.

Toni Collette radiates smarts, humor and a world-weary cool in Lucky Them.

Intimate and impressionistic but ultimately a little self-indulgent.

Night Moves eschews traditional tension-building through plot twists and betrayals to focus on its characters, as Reichardt uses her increasingly impressive sense of composition and intuitive pacing to slow burn the audience into a state of anxiety instead of manipulatively pushing them there.

Almost approaches so-bad-you-need-to-see-it categorization.

Rather than a how-sweet-to-be-a-lout story that turns semi-cautionary, Filth attempts to depict genuine madness.

The film’s winsome, self-satisfied comedy will no doubt appeal more to viewers who prize juvenile hi-jinks over the cultural moment it depicts.

The movie is a mess, but it's a rich mess. It has weight. It matters.

Like its hero, Stand Clear of the Closing Doors goes with the flow and has a chaotic and thrilling time but doesn't know where to go or what to do with itself.

It all leads up to some very bad green-screen work depicting a dangerous traipse around the Brooklyn Bridge, and reaches a sort of epiphany with a view of a floating carousel. Yes. It is very much that kind of movie.

The result will no doubt polarize viewers, as has been the case with his other major works, but it will certainly go down amongst those who see it as one of the most unforgettable films of this or any other year in recent memory.

The film's retro, John Carpenter-esque synthesizer score, composed by Jeff Grace, further pushes viewers away.

Unfortunately, Words and Pictures fails at portraying both titular nouns.

The bar is just so low, people. It’s just hovering there above the ground.

It's as visually indistinct and paint-by-numbers-plot-driven as most Marvel Comics-based projects, especially the gaggle of recent Avengers-related films.

The worst American film I've seen this year.

Wolf Creek 2 isn't much different than "Wolf Creek," but it is markedly worse.

It’s lucky that Klapisch has an actor as disarming as Duris playing Xavier, or else the character would be completely insufferable, never mind just intermittently so.

Watching him regain his confidence, sense of self and the rebellious spirit that defined him gives "The Fake Case" an unexpected and exciting feeling of momentum and, eventually, tension.

The film is cliched and phony, the coincidences beggar belief, and the human relationships come from a very tired playbook.

This supposedly uplifting true-life baseball tale never quite strikes the necessary emotional sweet spots that these types of inspirational sports movies shamelessly if effectively milk, despite a pitch with great potential.

If we can accept it on its own terms, The Immigrant has many moments of exceptional power and rare delicacy.

The sheer filmmaking craft on display here shames almost any comparably budgeted superhero picture you can name.

Like most movies of its bent, Fed Up can’t admit the thing that Al Pacino gets so tetchy about at the climax of "And Justice For All...," which is that "the whole system is out of order."

It wants to inspire as well as entertain. It’s "The Hangover" aimed at Christian audiences, and if that sounds like an impossible prospect, well, that’s because it is.

Palo Alto is a very strong first feature, prioritizing mood over message. Coppola does not diagnose underlying societal problems; she does not make assumptions about the cultural void in which the kids live.

This is comfort comedy, pure and simple.