A faithful remake of RoboCop would be timely. Instead, the producers of this new version have retreated back to the lab, concocting a creaky hybrid of “Frankenstein” and “Call of Duty.”

A marvelous piece of work.

It’s admirable, but Monuments Men just poses on a porous foundation like a statue.

Garcia’s performance, which won the best actress award at last year’s Berlin International Film Festival, is a marvel of self-effacing artistry.

With Labor Day, director Jason Reitman turns a Nicholas Sparks scenario into an Alfred Hitchcock creep-show.

Although it’s superficially grungy, this true story isn’t much more substantive than something that star Vanessa Hudgens might have made for the Disney Channel and considerably less shocking than her career gambit in “Spring Breakers.”

Kevin Hart hits the vicinity of humor with a few of his drive-by wisecracks, but the movie itself has nothing under the hood.

This dead-on-arrival ’toon is some of the worst p.r. for rodents since bubonic plague hit medieval Europe.

Her may be the most technologically astute movie since Stanley Kubrick’s “2001: a Space Odyssey.” And as the friendly ghost in the machine, Samantha is a more inviting companion for the great leap forward than HAL9000 could ever dream of being.

For those who appreciate fiery dialogue delivered by fine actors, August: Osage County is heaven-sent.

A good and necessary film, but like the man himself it’s not immune to scrutiny.

The most exhilarating film of the year is also the most exhausting.

Strange hybrid of science lesson and Saturday-morning cartoon.

What Inside Llewyn Davis is all about: the passion, and the pain, of being an artist.

As much as anything, the wildly entertaining ’70s flashback American Hustle is a triumph of style.

OK, the musical ode to Doby the shark elicits a grin, but the low-percentage script is loaded with buckshot, not harpoons, and Anchorman 2 ends up sinking.

On a moral-justice level, we’d like to see this worm squirm a little more over his treatment of ex-colleagues before we let him off the hook to say that everyone else was cheating too.

We were promised desolation, but “The Hobbit” just keeps dragon on.

Out of the Furnace is hot air.

A co-star deserving special mention is Nebraska itself, which Payne films in black-and-white to mirror the austerity of life on the de-populated prairie. These corners of the Cornhusker State are as empty as the promise of a sweepstakes prize. In this land of ghosts, one old pioneer tries to grab his stake before he becomes another windblown husk.

For all its professionalism, I found it as cold as the ice rink at Rockefeller Center.

Count Black Nativity as a more noble than notable effort.

It requires a mild suspension of disbelief to accept that slacker David would suddenly intervene in so many lives, pretending to be a good Samaritan.

The ingredients are in place for a potent finale, but “Catching Fire” is watered down.

A full plate of tear-jerking drama is served here. And it’s even tastier than the first time around.

At once a fascinating character study and a scathing indictment of the role of the medical-pharmaceutical complex in exacerbating the AIDS crisis, the fact-based Dallas Buyers Club is one of the best films of the year.

I’m pretty sure it would still be one of the best films of the year if the explicit lesbian sex scenes were censored, but it wouldn’t earn a penny in Peoria.