The only problem with The Better Angels is that it’s not nimble enough to vary its strategy or to find ways for the character of young Abe (Braydon Denney) to grow over the course of the movie.

Aside from the disgusting parts, Spiral is a fairly decent thriller.

Abandons any pretext of sophistication for gloppy sentimentality, sugary pop songs and bawdy humor -- an approach that works about half the time.

The blinkered greed of the ruling class makes for pretty low-hanging fruit, and “Death of a Unicorn” can come off as smug and exceedingly pleased with itself. Writer/director Alex Scharfman runs out of places for his story to move as the plot fails to thicken.

Swayze's presence crosses the line from curious to bizarre and adds a heavy layer of cheese to Havana Nights.

Breaking Upwards has its amusing and touching moments, but we're left wondering just what we're supposed to make of it all. In the end, the relationship at the film's core is less absorbing than the filmmakers imagine.

Shimizu can't quite pull everything together, trying to get off easy with a bargain-bin twist ending that most of the audience will see coming by the time the pile of corpses reaches double digits.

The high school comedy/drama morphs into a slasher movie, then morphs into a time-traveling/body-switching/world's-about-to-end science fiction story. Everyone on the set must have been chugging Mountain Dew between takes. I suspect that the editor was hooked up to an IV of the beverage.

In the end, Crash lacks a cumulative impact. It takes audiences to new places, but we've all been to similar places, and we walk out knowing no more than we did walking in.

Has a certain B-movie integrity -- a muscular commitment to grabbing the viewer's eye and keeping things moving. It won't win any awards, but it holds interest.

For all this, there is one unalloyed good thing to be said for High Tension. When all is said and done, it really does live up to its title. In every other way it's trash, but that truth-in-advertising aspect is a major weight to throw into the mix.

A supernatural thriller that keeps your attention while failing to hold you in its grip.

This film is mainly for “Night at the Museum” diehards.

The movie doesn't have three brain cells to rub together, but the premise carries it a long way.

Unfortunately, as Pacific Rim Uprising wears on, the monsters and the machines take over — not the world, but the movie.

This Statham exercise, like most, is mainly about body count. While that seems to be what his faithful fans want, it just gets kind of tedious for the rest of us.

Hawke is half-assed throughout, showing passion only when he's screaming like a little girl when something scary happens. The visuals have a dingy, unfocused quality, especially in the muddy visual-effects-enhanced backdrops. And some of the plot turns are awful. The vampire "cure" is so stupid, you'll want to walk out of the theater, even if you normally like this kind of movie.

An awkward script, a mannered style and the selection of hill-and-dale Petaluma as a stand-in for an Illinois small town all undermine the film.

The real problem with True Story is contained in its title. The story isn’t too good to be true, but rather too true to be good.

Alas, the main thing that comes through in Heaven Knows What is that a junkie’s life is really, really monotonous.

It's troubling to watch it stray and ramble as first-time director Antonio Banderas struggles to pull disparate elements together.

Leaves an impression, while its specifics fade almost immediately.

Broken English doesn't break any code or offer original insights on the subject. But there's a spark whenever Posey and Poupaud are together.

It makes you wonder when Araki is going to find something else to think about.

Rylance is always good, but director Craig Roberts, to use a golf term, lays up instead of going for the pin. In other words, he plays it safe.

The movie isn’t really bad, just tepid, and it’s partly redeemed by a good lead performance.

Either a go-for-broke action movie or a sick, sick movie for a sick, sick public.

Piccoli gives the film a depth it perhaps doesn't deserve.