The Optimist could be described as a Holocaust drama, but it approaches that history in an unexpected way.

It’s a masterpiece of a family popcorn movie, with eye-popping hand-crafted production design and outstanding creature design and puppetry work. This is the kind of movie that could have been made in the era of moon landings and space shuttles, when the general public found science trustworthy and wondrous.

There’s a difference between extending a story and deepening it. While this latest entry is thoughtful and stirring, it doesn’t exactly improve upon the elegant finality the series granted Tommy Shelby four years ago. Sometimes the most powerful ending is the one that understands when enough has been said.

When you walk out of the theater feeling more empathy for the tortured monster than his Bride, the experiment has failed.

While Pixar doesn’t exactly alter the chemistry here, Hoppers is energetic and fun.

Scream 7 is anything but cutting edge.

In the Blink of an Eye proves yet again that Stanton is a dreamer, with an unshakeable faith in humanity. That’s not nothing.

It’s a sneaky little movie about what people are really like, and it’s impressive.

Sirât is a film of impression and feeling, not logic or plot.

Polly Findlay’s adaptation of Bernard MacLaverty’s 2017 novel is a serious attempt to delve into a complex marriage, and fortunately for such heavy material it contains two winning performances from Manville (so delightful in “Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris”) and Hinds (“Is This Thing On?”).

Knowing what Powell is capable of, it’s not unreasonable to go into this expecting a bigger payoff.

I’ve been fascinated by McCartney for decades, and “Man on the Run” made me feel like I was getting closer to understanding the real guy.

There are some heart-tugging scenes, but overall, this is the cinematic equivalent of a blissful weekend at the spa, a relaxing respite from the stressful news cycles of our times.

Crime 101 is often smart, ultimately ridiculous — man, that ending! — and mostly absorbing. But as with Davis’ sleek rides, your mileage may vary.

Winner of both the Camera d’Or and an audience award at last year’s Cannes Film Festival, writer-director Hasan Hadi’s feature debut is both beguiling and unforgiving, culturally specific yet universal, funny and heartbreaking.

Fennell (“Promising Young Woman,” “Saltburn”) is a skilled filmmaker who can put over her ideas. The problem is that all her ideas here are bad — self-defeating, enervating and, in several places, unintentionally hilarious.

Yes, Charli is playing a version of herself, but she does it well.

It’s a train wreck, but certainly a watchable one that almost plays like fan fiction.

At its simplest, we have here a performance showcase for O’Brien’s artfully restrained sniveling and, especially, for McAdams’ miraculous shape-shifting abilities. Essentially “Send Help” is “Cast Away” if Wilson the volleyball were a misogynist tool.

In America, it might be called a mess, and at times this movie sags. But overall, there’s something about it that holds interest. “A Private Life” is an odd ramble that eventually arrives somewhere.

This is a transcendent cinematic vision you can dance to. By God, it’s inspired.

So Orwell it’s not. But “Mercy” is a cinematic feat of a different kind, even if it begins to fade soon after leaving the theater.

The Rip is another one — efficient for what it is, but if it’s remembered at all it will be for Damon and Affleck’s matching beards and effortless way of appearing at home together onscreen.

Although more Fiennes is always a good thing, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple simply doesn’t have the solid storytelling or enthralling characters that its predecessor has.

You can love or hate “The Chronology of Water,” but if you don’t come away from it marveling at the brilliance of Poots’s performance, you just weren’t paying attention.

If “Dead Man’s Wire” has a weakness it’s that it doesn’t create an intense desire to find out how it all turns out. It compensates with dark humor and with a central performance by Skarsgård that’s fascinating.

The director succeeds most at giving an inkling of the real Chase, now somewhat frail in his 80s. But she also makes a case that at past points, when the public consensus was “God, he’s being an ass again,” the truth may have been rather more poignant.

The inescapable, undeniable weakness of Father Mother Sister Brother is that, while its first part is thoroughly satisfying, its second part is just OK, and its third part is close to a waste of time.