Survivors get to tell the history, but Robbie Robertson is pushing it. The guitarist does not come off as a wholly reliable narrator in his cinematic account of the illustrious career of the Band, Once Were Brothers: Robbie Robertson and the Band.

It’s funnier than most Austen adaptations and more visually beautiful, and then there’s the movie’s odd tone, which combines a rigorous attention to period detail with an arch and seemingly modern sensibility.

With Stewart, we arrive at the only saving grace of Seberg, but a genuine saving grace. She is the only reason to see the movie, but she’s a really good reason.

Onward goes on and on, but it barely moves forward. Long before its 114-minute running time has elapsed, it has overstayed its welcome.

But most every moment Ford is in on screen is a welcome one. Buck seems more real when in Ford’s presence.

A small, independent comedy-drama that does a number of things very well. It does them all quietly. The scenes don’t swing for the fences. The emotional work is true, not pushed, and by the end, the movie ends up giving the sense of a world.

Even if the film seems slow at times, there’s always something to look at, including Miroshnichenko and Perelygina, who are able to find grace and dignity in two such odd, hollowed out characters. Maybe, just maybe, these two veterans working in a hospital can heal each other.

Unfortunately, the scares aren’t particularly scary, the lessons aren’t particularly compelling, and the ultimate resolution takes far too long to arrive at a conclusion that’s far too pat.

The characters are engaging, and writer-director Stella Meghie is able to keep us interested in them for about an hour — and then the drama leaks out of the movie completely.

This is a funny and moving crowd-pleaser — a South by Southwest and Sundance selection, it won the audience award at the Napa Valley Film Festival and was an opening night film at S.F. IndieFest — and it goes down easy.

Downhill is not a funny movie and wasn’t intended to be. It has moments of humor, but of the more uncomfortable variety, not the kind that provoke laughter, but cringing.

Best of all, the laughs often arrive in small moments, not in the obvious ones.

There are many great acting moments in this film, but you should especially savor the final shot, the long close-up of Haenel in profile. Put simply, it’s why we go to the movies.

It’s not for people in the midst of their teen years, but for kids who are right on the edge of that social, hormonal discombobulation and are anticipating it with fear and dread. If “To All the Boys” gives courage and reassurance to apprehensive preteens — and is there any other kind? — then it will have served its public service. Still, as a movie, as entertainment … eh, it’s OK.

The biggest betrayal of The Traitor is its crime against the usually compelling Mafia movie genre. This is an offer you can refuse.

Birds of Prey: And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn is more than horrible. It should not exist. Money should never have been raised for it. The screenplay should never have been filmed. Margot Robbie shouldn’t have produced it. She certainly shouldn’t have starred in it. It’s just a terrible thing to inflict on audiences, who, after all, didn’t hurt anyone and just hoped to have a nice time.

The Assistant isn’t a particularly enjoyable film, but its message and quiet power linger for days.

Chinese Portrait is a great art installation, but a thoroughly unsatisfying film.

It’s Lively’s movie, and it’s she who kicks this superior thriller up an extra notch, to the point that it’s not only worth seeing for the excitement and thrills, but for her.

Of course, the real problem here isn’t that Ritchie isn’t Noel Coward, but that he’s not clever or funny in his own right. The Gentleman isn’t offensive, and it’s not even good enough to qualify as coarse. If it weren’t mildly annoying, it would be as close to nothing as an experience can be.

So there you have it, a so-so movie with a lot of good parts. In truth, The Last Full Measure has more good parts than most better movies, but everything connecting those parts feels rote, sometimes ham-fisted.

That’s a strength in this documentary. It becomes clear that it’ll take a strongman to bring down a strongman, at least in this case.

Color Out of Space is a trashy, ridiculous science fiction/horror film. It is silly, poorly written and, well, I liked it.

Clemency is slow and without much suspense. The real question isn’t whether this person or that person will be executed, but whether Bernardine will go to pieces, and yet with a performance like Woodard’s at the center, that’s all a movie needs.

Gaffigan is able to do a lot with a little, and the comedian is a perfect fit for Ramsey’s gentle cluelessness. He’s effortlessly charismatic in this kind of role, and the arc of his relationship with Christmas is lovely for all the ways it doesn’t fall into easy, empty melodrama.

It’s essentially an animated film, fronted by a live-action Downey and Michael Sheen’s one-note villain. Only Antonio Banderas, in a small role, truly seems to be having a great time.

A funny, satisfying action comedy that never disappoints.

As a slice of life, Les Misérables is satisfying enough, but as the film wears on, the movie goes beyond the slice of life. It steers in the direction of drama and consequences, as the story narrows, and pressures come to a boil.