Nowar keeps the exposition to a minimum; there is barely a mention of the geopolitical events surrounding Theeb. Instead, this film is a cautionary tale about survival — and keeping one’s enemies in their place.

In this her third feature as a director, Jolie once again shows a marked talent for the visual aspects of storytelling. Her shot selection is impeccable and her compositions are artful without being self-consciousness.

Although few would confuse The Nightingale with greatness (it’s just way too predictable), production-wise, everything is top notch, especially the cinematography of Sun Ming, who captures some almost epic images of rural Guangxi — makes you want to go there. Also, Li’s quiet strength as the grandfather grounds the film in a gentle, simple and appealing way.

In all, it’s a relaxed portrait of a likable fellow.

The Peanuts Movie delivers genuine happiness with the door left open for woe.

A little more character dimension would have made these between-the-sheet sessions a lot more charged.

The movie’s intelligent respect for that which is unknowable allows it to cover an enormous swath of ground in just 85 minutes. Sarah Silverman is very good in I Smile Back, and the movie is even better.

One of the great satisfactions of Spectre is that, in addition to all the stirring action, and all the timely references to a secret organization out to steal everyone’s personal information, we get to believe in Bond as a person.

Hand it to directors Michael Beach Nichols and Christopher K. Walker, who could have made the story into a black-hat/white-hat affair. Without soft-pedaling Cobb’s noxious ideology, they implicitly raise questions about how Leith responded to the perceived danger.

The attempt is to create a reality wide enough to accommodate the extremes of absurdity and hard political truth, but the pieces never cohere, and so we end up with a rattling bag of disparate elements.

The real issue is that everything about Adam’s journey feels half digested and tossed back up. We’ve seen it before. It was better the first time.

This is a movie that you will admire both for its courage and its creativity.

Occasionally, “All Things” gets stuck in a groove of industry and business minutiae — a 10-minute trim would have made this film even better — but overall, this is an assured effort: informative, bittersweet and appealing for both the young and the not so young.

By avoiding the usual cliches of the freedom saga, Suffragette finds its way to its own, specific integrity. It’s a movie that’s easier to respect than love, but it is something to respect.

This “Guide” is not for everyone; it gleefully earns its hard-R rating. But folks who enjoy their teen humor splattered with zombie guts won’t be disappointed. Scout’s honor.

While The Assassin is a noble misfire, here’s hoping Hou, who is 68, can saddle up for another ride soon. Another decade would be too long to wait for another vision from this most special director.

In the end, the film shakes down as a kind of eat-your-spinach exercise, a movie that’s worthy and perhaps good for you, but is labored and only enjoyable intermittently.

Truth is a journalism horror story, something like “All the President’s Men” but with the wrong ending and plenty of blame on all sides. It is one of the most frustrating speak-truth-to-power tales ever put onscreen, because it dares to show how that usually works out: Power wins. Big.

Levinson is careful not to make the Afghan people into buffoons, which is good, but it doesn’t change the fact that these folks are cardboard characters.

There are two main obstacles to enjoying The Last Witch Hunter. One is your ability to buy Vin Diesel as an immortal slayer of evildoers plying his trade in today’s Manhattan. You also have to swallow a by-the-numbers plot buried under an avalanche of fast-and-furious but underwhelming CGI effects.

Seemingly loose and free-associative in style, Experimenter builds to an effect and, for all its humor — or rather, through its humor — makes a sober and chilling point.

Obviously, no one should wish all films were shot like this. But the approach suits this story and these characters, and that’s all it had to do.

The world here is so ugly that only beautiful tracking shots, rich close-ups and adroit handheld work could make it bearable.

Bridge of Spies tells us that the Constitution is not some quaint national luxury but the road map out of the darkness.

Although the film’s content falls squarely within the PG rating, it provides about 20 percent more visual terror than you’re probably expecting. Plus, the presence of a scary clown should automatically trigger a special MPAA rating. (PG-C?) Take your 5-year-old knowing that he may be visiting your bed every night between now and Halloween.

To be sure, Steve Jobs has its own integrity as the story of the young innovator, but it’s a little like making a movie about Thomas Edison and stopping somewhere between the phonograph and the lightbulb.

For the most part, though, Drunk Stoned Brilliant Dead spends its time celebrating an era in which the comedy frontier was distasteful, brutally honest, and innocent at the same time.

Frehling is excellent as a rigid do-gooder who thinks he understands everything and then comes up against crimes that shake his sense of the universe. His fresh fierceness is nicely balanced by Voss, who says little but radiates wisdom.

He Named Me Malala gets good marks as a laudatory piece about a genuinely valiant young woman, but it could use a modest dose of objectivity.

Freeheld is formulaic, but some formulas are good if you do them right, and it helps knowing that it all really happened, or most of it.

A complete washout, a joyless, pointless and fundamentally idiotic enterprise.

After two hours of The Walk, I felt as if I’d walked the wire myself. I was agitated and exhausted. During the movie, I was squirming and wincing, and a few times even had to close my eyes, just to find some relief.

The new Ridley Scott movie is fascinating and charming and crammed and overstuffed, and it’s a curious case, too. It gets all the seemingly hard things wonderfully right, but then caves in at points that should have been easy.

If at any point in Sicario, you feel lost, don’t worry about it. The movie is all about being lost and, in any case, all becomes clear, eventually.

After nearly two hours of A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence, anyone who entered the theater on a Wednesday might wish for it to be Thursday, too.

The blood-soaked “Inferno” practically ends up a promotional snuff film for deforestation.

A clever hybrid of documentary and romantic comedy.

Belongs in a less ambitious category of sequels, alongside the creatively lacking “Alvin and the Chipmunks” and “Ice Age” movies.

The success of this film may ride entirely on the alchemy of these particular actors, but whatever is carrying it, The Intern gets there.

East Side Sushi is an engaging film that fits neatly into that category of foodie films and dreams.

There’s lots of eye candy, and the pace is fast, but somehow the movie falls short. You’re forgiven if you get the idea that “Scorch Trials” suffers from “middle movie” fatigue.

A gripping study of Bobby Fischer, perhaps the greatest chess player ever.

Jake finally looks like a catch, of all things, and you can hear half the audience whispering that they’ll have what Lainey’s having.

This is a movie in search of a finale.

I’m not sure if there’s room in the new Chinese film world, which like American cinemas is now dominated by big-budget special effects films, for another series of Gong-Zhang films. But they should forge ahead. They’ve recaptured the magic.

The feature film Everest provides soaring visuals, but it’s a distant second in terms of storytelling depth and narrative impact.

A solid piece of filmmaking, from subtle beginning to the excessive end.

Shyamalan doesn’t reach “The Sixth Sense” or “Unbreakable” heights, but his scriptwriting is livelier than we’ve seen in years, and there’s a sense of humor that was missing in even his best work. At times, he seems to be poking good-natured fun at his own reputation.

Every now and then, an interesting character pops up: Kyra Sedgwick, almost unrecognizable, is quite good as a homeless woman who collects aluminum cans. But these moments are as fleeting as George’s grip on reality.

The whole thing is held together by the nuanced and natural performance of the amazing Regina Casé, the veteran Brazilian comedian and TV host, who can switch her look at a moment’s notice from cherub to aggrieved saint to basset hound.

The movie’s ridiculous.

So this film feels less like an easy paycheck and more like semi-retirement. Whatever wisdom is coming out of Redford’s mouth as Bryson, it always seems 100 percent clear he pursued the role because the shoot would be beautiful and he could pal around with an old friend.

Strict plausibility isn’t necessary in these movies, and while No Escape doesn’t completely throw it out the window, it still inspires the occasional unintended giggle.

One wishes Lee’s mother (Judith Light) and stepfather (Sam Elliott) were in the film more; their conversations with Lee about marriage and love rung true. The rest is just empty dialogue.

Offers some hit-and-miss pleasures, but may finally strike you as pedestrian.

Lily Tomlin has been one of our best comedic actresses for the past 50 years, and she’s at the height of her powers in the beautifully observed dramedy Grandma. Her performance is funny, acerbic, touching — and ultimately, exhilarating.

The makers of We Are Your Friends got halfway there, and then lost the beat.

It’s a delicious, yet far-fetched setup that pushes the limits of believability, even when we consider how powerful denial can be. But director Christian Petzold never loses control of his taut film.

It’s an elaborate and artificial concoction, without any discernible ambition behind it.

Hitman: Agent 47 takes an austere European aesthetic and combines it with Hollywood mindlessness, and the result is like a guilty pleasure, minus the pleasure.

The screenplay is deceptively tight, even as the main characters seem to be buzzing aimlessly through the proceedings. Like the most successful films of the drug-hazed genre, this movie only appears to be going off the rails.

Strouse’s film is about the changes that occur in all relationships and about letting go when it’s time. It will probably not change your worldview about any people, places or things, but it’s a pleasant way to spend a couple hours.

It is not a pleasure to sit through, not even remotely, not even by some stretched definition of the word “pleasure.” It’s work, but it’s ultimately rewarding work. It tackles some truths that other movies wouldn’t touch, not even with a stick and thick gloves.

The film is likely to attract new readers to the book — and remind longtime fans why they were attracted to the writings in the first place.

Ritchie is a director with no instinct for the audience, and he can’t hold things together for an entire film. He seems at a loss, from moment to moment, as to what he should emphasize.

Now in middle age, members of N.W.A. no longer believe all of the hype. They’re in an introspective space, to the great benefit of this film.

Dark Places isn’t a disaster of a film. Instead, it’s the definition of average, and we wish it could have taken us to some more interesting places.

The actor suffered deeply, and however much he’s responsible for that, it’s hard not to feel some compassion for a bright and sensitive artist who, at least early on, seemed full of life.

Wallace’s 2008 suicide informs the film and Jason Segel’s performance. What Wallace wants to say, tries to say but can’t quite say is that, having reached the summit of success, he sees an even bigger mountain in front of him. His anxiety about holding it together in the face of newfound celebrity is no affectation. He’s frightened of it and probably has good reason to be.

Like in so many silents, the plot is joyously minimal.

The Gift stretches things a little too much for it to be a first-rate thriller. Still, among second-rate thrillers, it’s one of the best.

If only Streep would have put down the microphone and let Springfield sing “Jessie’s Girl,” Ricki and the Flash might have had half a chance.

Is it a home run? No. But at this point, comic fans are just happy to see Fox play error-free ball with their Marvel adaptations, and Fantastic Four mostly qualifies.

The car chases and other stunt work are excellent, although there could have been more action, and the downtime scenes of the characters plotting their next move or ruminating on money’s role in moral corruption are fine. But the bottom line is there’s nothing super original here.

Even the interesting parts of A Lego Brickumentary aren’t that interesting, but are rather more like the best thing you might hear while being cornered by the most boring person at a party.

It’s a testimony to how much this is a live issue in Indonesia that some of the credits are listed simply as “anonymous.”

Gainsbourg is always going through a little more than she cares to tell the audience about, but the connection her character makes with Samba — real, complicated and not typical — is one of the movie’s highlights.

McQuarrie devises a film that’s a succession of riveting sequences, filmed in a way that’s active and yet elegant. The camera keeps moving within shots, but not in a subjective, jittery way, but rather like a third person narrator calmly emphasizing the essential points.

Vacation is consistently funny from beginning to end, a piling on of dumb but inventive jokes and excruciating, awkward situations.

As Zimbardo, Billy Crudup adopts an implacable facade, and for a while we don’t know what we’re seeing — a humanitarian on the brink of discovery, an ambitious monster who has found the winning ticket, or a young professor in way over his head.

Talented director Eran Riklis is interested in the coexistence of cultures, not violence, but that doesn’t mean his ending fails to carry an emotional wallop. It’s a doozy, and shows us that life can be a complex whirl of dueling identities.

Every so often he inflicts something like Irrational Man on the world, which is so awful you have to wonder if Allen wrote it himself or farmed it out to some look-alike cousin out to destroy him.

It’s cute and easy to watch, though we can’t overcome the feeling that it’s an unambitious film about an ambitious topic.

The straightforward, well-edited trial scenes speak volumes, not only about the defendant, but also about the racism that still haunts our country.

Although nothing really surprising happens (the film has no real plot twists), it’s natural and unforced, like real life. One can imagine that most pregnancies unfold like these, and Swanberg has crafted a universal story observed through small details.

When Paper Towns works, it’s fun.

The film falters a bit near the end, when it dwells on the romantic fallout of the affair, but all in all, “Amina” is an enterprising movie that makes this Internet story cinematically engaging.

The experience of Southpaw is rather like seeing the truth behind the cliches, revived in all their pain and power to surprise.

With a novel idea at its center and some good jokes scattered throughout, Pixels is a relief from the self-serious action films that invade movie theaters at this time of year. For most of the way, it’s good enough to enjoy, and for the rest of the way, it’s good enough to root for. But ultimately, it’s not quite good enough ... to be good enough.

To watch Boulevard is to keep circling back, over and over, to the question: Was it merely an actor’s misguided inspiration, to take a repressed character and turn him into a grievously depressed one? Or was Williams simply unable to do it any other way?

At least we get Pacino and Hunter. We may not understand why this story appealed to them, except for the fact that it gave them a chance to work together.

This is sublime filmmaking, a textbook example of how indies can tell groundbreaking stories in a way that Hollywood simply can’t match.

Smart, sedate and well acted.

Romantic comedies can go in all sorts of directions, but they depend on the audience’s believing that a couple should get together and stay together. But in Trainwreck, that belief is hard to come by.

By being more than a superhero movie, it reminds us of what it’s worse than. Its greatest virtue isn’t that it’s a superior comic book movie, but rather that it comes close to not being that at all. Close, and yet not close enough.

When the action focuses on the battle lines in Mexico, the results are nothing short of spectacular.

It’s hard to know what to make of this, but it’s quite enough that it happens at all. The film has some longueurs — it isn’t scintillating for every second of screen time. But Marques-Mercet and his actors establish an intimacy with the audience that’s practically unique. Even if you love it only a little, not completely, you will probably remember 10,000 Km for the rest of your life.

The bottom line is that the filmmakers are working with nothing here — no characters to speak of, no interpersonal relationships, no story with any suspense or capacity to engage, and no script with any humor or wit. What can they do?