Cast and crew's investment in the story's tragedy and its ensuing moral debates is evident in every frame, but the film isn't fully successful in generating the same depth of feeling in viewers.

Offers a few spooky thrills to get you through another night stuck at home.

The Old West is portrayed as a venal loony bin in Sweetwater, a handsomely designed, occasionally funny but ultimately empty female vengeance yarn.

A muddled psychological horror film about a young man coping with the death of his father, Jack Goes Home is a puzzle few viewers will care to piece together.

James McAvoy and Alicia Vikander make a photogenic pair in this sometimes sweepingly romantic film, the most roundly satisfying fiction feature Wenders has made since, well, that first one about the angel so in love he gives up immortality.

Amid the not-so-troubling setbacks, unbelievable triumphs and perpetual spring break, the movie takes one or two nice twists.

The film boasts pungent atmosphere, as well as hard-hitting performances by leading man Michael Pitt and such reliably good character actors as Ron Perlman and Isiah Whitlock Jr. Unfortunately, the promising elements never coalesce into a satisfying or engrossing whole.

The plot development of Flash Point is purely utilitarian, like a shuttle bus that transports stock characters from one action set to another.

Action scenes are accumulated as if mandated by a stop-watch and almost invariably seem like warmed-over versions of stuff we've seen before, in Terminator entries and elsewhere.

The disappointing end result feels less than the sum of the talents involved, a weak script and thin high-concept plot only just held together by smart visual wizardry.

There is little complexity in the social, cultural or political shape of this world. So this film, directed by visual effects master Stefen Fangmeier and written by Peter Buchman in a straightforward manner, cannot escape the rote nature of such a fantasy.

Sets out to be a baby "Big Chill" but plays out like an unsold Fox pilot.

However masterful, the first-rate stunt work, effects, action cinematography and cutting (by no less than three editors) lose impact through sheer repetition.

Izzo, who co-starred with Roth-the-actor in Aftershock, is a fine genre actress, standing out from a cast of blonde women with her naturalistic performance and signs of courage and initiative.

Solomon crafts a quality horror piece from strong performances and effects. The chief disappointment of An American Haunting is that it doesn't exploit more opportunities for the sublime subtlety of performances by Sissy Spacek and, especially, Donald Sutherland.

The film boasts a strong comic cast with Murphy, Davidson and Palmer at the lead. Their chemistry is naturally compelling, which helps us buy into their increasingly ridiculous situation.

The film is certainly watchable, thanks to the elaborately staged action sequences and Statham's killer charisma.

In and of itself, this revamp is mildly engaging but also feels like it's expending a great deal of energy for quite modest entertainment returns.

Given the tragic and highly charged events it depicts, All Eyez on Me is oddly low on emotional bite, perhaps because it never feels real. As clean and polished and blandly overlit as a TV soap opera, Boom’s film looks and feels smaller than Tupac’s cinematic life story.

The good news is that Christopher Walken, resplendent in purple silk, isn't the film's sole redeeming element. The bad news is that even his arch-villain can't save Balls of Fury from losing bounce as the story proceeds.

Boasting two terrific performances by Uma Thurman and Evan Rachel Wood as the adult and teenage versions of the same character.

The cast, which includes Alfre Woodard and Debra Winger, manages to give thoughtful performances that salvage the film's integrity.

Alas, this is just film ugly.

The film's failure to raise the temperature gradually leaves viewers less involved than we should be.

Another day, another exorcism…ho-hum.

In the absence of anything truly original in the screenplay he co-wrote with Juliet Snowden, director Stiles White vainly attempts to ratchet up the tension with a series of cheap jump scares fueled by loud noises that are the cinematic equivalent of shaking hands with someone wearing a joy buzzer.

No Escape is a pedestrian but modestly gripping nerve-jangler from writer-director John Erick Dowdle.

We can be grateful to a stellar cast and some discipline on the part of Matt Aselton, a commercials director making his feature debut, that Gigantic doesn't go completely overboard. Nevertheless, the film will appeal mostly to festivals and adventurous audiences.

While Michael Keaton and Brendan Fraser turn in a pair of sturdy performances, the film itself proves to be a harder sell, especially because it looks and sounds like Mamet but proves to be a flimsy knockoff.

The end product is surprisingly charmless -- a shrill "Devil Wears Prada"/"Bridget Jones"/"Sex and the City" knockoff that keeps threatening to fall apart at the seams.

Though the film's cat-and-mouse scenes hardly compare to those in a Bourne movie, they're enjoyable and only occasionally ridiculous.

Flight Risk manages to deliver some high-altitude thrills in its breathlessly paced 91 minutes. But its clunky dialogue, uneven performances and less-than-grade-A special effects ultimately make it the Spirit Airlines of airborne thrillers.

A coming-of-age story without any clear epiphany, Goats meanders rather aimlessly through 92 minutes of running time.

The comedy just isn't that funny and the enterprise never finds an exact tone.

Combining war and horror movie tropes in an awkward manner more silly than scary, this belated sophomore feature from writer/director Eric Bress (2004's The Butterfly Effect) makes you long for the days when American G.I.s didn't have to fight supernatural beings as well as German soldiers.

The Rite becomes more ludicrous as it goes along, with more than a few lines of dialogue from Michael Petroni's over-the-top screenplay eliciting unintended titters.

For comedy, director Peter Howitt relies on halfhearted slapstick as the script contains little of the sharp dialogue one might expect from a script written at least in part by Harling ("Steel Magnolias," "Soapdish").

Marshall's predilection for romantic fairy tales is much in evidence, though the comedy registers in a lower key than it did in such hits as "Pretty Woman" and "Runaway Bride."

First-time director Paul Abascal brings no style or personality to this B-movie exercise. Except for Farina, the actors go through the paces as if they too lack conviction in the proceedings.

The film plods along without a lot of excitement or inspiration.

Neither the script's conspiracies nor Nicolas Cage's performance is weird enough to trump the film's generic feel.

The film’s chief asset is Nabaway, who delivers a subtly moving and restrained performance that transcends the contrived plot mechanics. It’s a heartfelt turn that befits this well-intentioned but ultimately reductive film.

Jacquot has a hard time turning all of this into palpable drama, and Eva slides off the rails during a denouement that goes full on B-movie without much credibility.

The characters are uninvolving, the emotional stakes never fully take hold and the physical action invariably promises more than it delivers.

Even more inappropriate physical gags, foul-mouthed dialogue and outrageous situations all contribute to raising the stakes, as Waters pushes the cast to amiably outdo the original.

This ensemble comedic drama maintains a light touch while surveying the challenges of accepting adult responsibilities.

Unfortunately, the Collector simply isn't a very interesting screen villain. Clad in a black mask that reveals only his eyes and mouth, he mainly communicates by heavy breathing. It makes one yearn for the perversely witty chatter of Jigsaw.

Cena is no Jason Statham. His stolid seriousness sucks the life right out of any scene in which he's required to speak. It's a bad sign when you repeatedly wish a runaway trolley would silence the hero.

Kwek's critical view of his home country is certainly there, burning brightly, but Unlucky Plaza should be considered a small step for a promising socially-conscious filmmaker trying to connect his fury with the right kind of art.

Biggs is appealing in the central role, although for him, conveying mortified embarrassment doesn't exactly qualify as an acting stretch. But he does have good chemistry with Montgomery.

It’s all a little zany and overcooked and childish, which is perhaps why the series has been so popular with French tykes and is probably better fitted for 22-minute episodes than feature-length treatment.

Think of it as "The Matrix" for the quantum physics set.

While by no means a masterpiece of the form, John Carpenter's The Ward is an economical period piece that still effectively demonstrates what a skilled technician can accomplish in a single location with a compact cast and sturdy old-school effects.

Coming across as more than a little desperate in its unrelenting freneticism, Think Like a Man Too possesses none of the charm of its predecessor. By the time the seemingly endless film reaches its conclusion, you’ll wish that what happened in Vegas had stayed in Vegas.

The story is about musicians and how music connects people, so the movie's score and songs, created by composers Mark Mancina and Hans Zimmer, give poetic whimsy to an implausible tale.

The supporting players are either nondescript or overact to the point of exhaustion.

A self-aware laffer that indulges in rom-com contrivance up until the point it judo-flips them to its own ends.

The four lead performers display an undeniable chemistry that makes Vacation Friends 2 pleasantly engaging if not hilarious. But it’s the addition of Buscemi that provides the real comic spark, the veteran actor employing his well-honed persona of angry sarcasm to provide a much-needed edginess to the otherwise bland proceedings.

There’s certainly an overall sense of a formerly rich family’s fortunes dwindling, both economically and emotionally, but the three sections don’t add up to something more than the sum of their parts.

Much of what transpires is wholly unconvincing, although the proceedings are made palatable by the highly appealing performances by the two leads, who display a genuine onscreen chemistry.

Kinda Pregnant doesn’t deliver on charming main characters nor sustainable humor. It’s a staid affair, coasting on its zany premise and a handful of amusing moments.

Fails to find the genuine drama in its story of love and intrigue.

Although it seldom approaches the inspiration of its plucky premise... Free Birds nevertheless manages to avoid being branded a holiday turkey.

Merely a watchable rehashing of his preferential themes and plot points, set in a present-day Manhattan so nostalgic and unreal it might as well be a period piece.

A chin-scratching B picture that fares best when it sticks with stars Donald Sutherland and Vincent Kartheiser, it gets less convincing the farther it strays from the two-hander at its core.

Suspenseless, uninvolving and underdeveloped, it wastes the talents of an almost entirely distaff cast that deserves much stronger material.

On some level, Fritz’s story is compulsive viewing, only you wish you weren’t there.

Ponderously paced and mostly flat in its dramatic effect, this wooden period piece is slow going indeed.

Amusing, but formulaic, romantic comedy.

Ultimately, it’s little more than a trifle that’s enlivened by the older Huston’s inevitably referential performance.

A forgettable blend of unearned saccharinity and unacknowledged sourness, the Michael Showalter-directed dramedy capably proves that Mom is the true angel of the season but falls well short of proving that Christmas is worth all her fussing in the first place.

A drama that struggles to breathe life into its death-themed narrative.

No one who sees the film will feel it breaks any new ground, but as a cinematic equivalent of comfort food, it goes down easily.

Getting four mediocre horror efforts for the price of one doesn't exactly represent a significant bargain.

This misadventure of a project is a blip on the actresses’ résumés.

A throw-everything-against-the-wall collection of silly jokes that reimagines American history as a bro-tastic action flick, Matt Thompson’s animated film makes Drunk History look like a Ken Burns production.

The chief saving grace of Elliot: The Littlest Reindeer is its auspicious voice cast including Josh Hutcherson, Samantha Bee, John Cleese and Martin Short, among others.

Ode to Joy fails to live up to its title by attempting to wring comic mileage from a medical condition that sufferers probably don't find very funny.

The frenetic pace detracts from the film's wealth of personalities and vivid visuals. There's the unshakable sense that Rugrats Go Wild is trying too hard to please kids and adults and as a result falls somewhat short for both sets of viewers.

It’s all dumb beyond belief, of course, but the film (efficiently directed by Simon Cellan Jones) is so fast-paced that you settle into its now well-honed formula as if it were a recliner equipped with an eggnog dispenser.

Even with the inspired choice of Steve Martin in the Clouseau role, this "Panther" picture is more bumbling and fumbling than the blissfully oblivious, accident-prone Inspector.

Unable to decide whether it wants to be a rambunctious family comedy or a tender romantic comedy, the Dennis Quaid-Rene Russo vehicle strains to be both and ends up falling short of both marks.

Trafficked proves reasonably effective for educational purposes, with statistics and information about how to help inevitably projected during the end credits. But as a thriller it’s plodding and predictable, not distinguishing itself from the seemingly endless other movies dealing with the subject that have been released in recent years.

Director Hallivis keeps the proceedings at a reasonably fast pace, with Adam Taylor's electronic music score helping to quicken the film's pulse rate. But it's not enough to prevent the proceedings from lapsing into incoherence.

The drama and intensity that are [Haggis's] signatures are mostly missing from these vividly dramatized but uninvolving romantic crises, none of which are particularly believable.

Jason Reitman's new film skillfully navigates through the personal melodramas of many characters with a nice sense of balance and a sharp appreciation of generational differences.

It’s a shame, because Cuoco’s well-honed comic skills are very much on display and Oyelowo, working in a lighter vein than usual, seems to be enjoying himself. Which is more than you’ll be able to say about the viewers of this tired action-comedy retread.

The film plays like a garish melodrama that reproduces the most ham-fisted, polemical aspects of "Crash."

Misguided, diminished and dismally done in every way, this late-summer afterthought will richly earn the distinction of becoming the first Ben-Hur in any form to flop.

Midnight Sun does an effective job of tugging at vulnerable teenage hearts, while managing to provide a few laughs along the way. None of the film rings remotely true, especially the cornball conclusion, but the two young leads are so darn attractive and appealing that one can't help being caught up in their characters' poignant romance.

Whatever goodwill superfan director Colin Trevorrow earned with 2015’s enjoyable reboot, Jurassic World, he pulverizes it here with overplotted chaos, somehow managing to marginalize characters from both the new and original trilogies as well as the prehistoric creatures they go up against in one routine challenge after another. Evolution has passed this bloated monster by.

While the portrait of domestic malaise is occasionally intriguing (and owes much to the original comics), things wind up all-too easily working themselves out in the long run.

More notable for its small, incisive moments than as a moving depiction of the way that familial relationships are affected by life crises, the film makes only a minor impact.

Dad’s Army is hobbled by too much broad slapstick and labored clowning.

While the two leads are appealing and display an undeniable chemistry, the narrative skimpiness makes their efforts for naught.

Attempting to be a cautionary tale for the Airbnb era, the pic squanders its potential with ham-fisted execution.

Despite its laudable intentions, Waiting for Anya proves less impactful than it should be. The film certainly doesn't have the thematic weight of "War Horse," another film (and acclaimed stage play) based on a war-themed book by Morpurgo that was geared to young readers.

It arrives not as a lusty tale in full bloom but as a tastefully arranged still life, in search of an animating spark.