While a composited scene, in which has-been Lenny lectures his younger self about work ethic and wisdom, has an undeniable poignancy, actual tragedy remains far beyond the film's grasp -- as does any illumination beyond the unsurprising suggestion that Cooke just didn't want success as much as peers like LeBron James.

Impressively, first-time filmmaker and former Google commercials creator Aneesh Chaganty has also made a real movie, the story of a family that morphs into a crime drama that gradually ratchets up the tension as all good thrillers must, one that’s well constructed and acted as well as novel in its storytelling techniques.

The big shave is the starting point for a clever, if somewhat too clever, film from French critic, novelist and documentarian Emmanuel Carrere. La Moustache could be clipped down to Franz Kafka-meets-Jerry Seinfeld, where a whole slew of absurd petite calamities befall our everyday hero, triggered by his trim.

By the time the mainstream world came to embrace MoviePass, we all already knew it was doomed, and I wish the documentary had illustrated what the alternative might have been.

This is a vengeful dark comedy that probes percolating class anxieties (a popular theme in cinema lately). It indulges in opportunities to strip the emperor of his clothes, and while that doesn’t necessarily translate to the most revelatory social commentary, it does make for an amusing ride.

The film is an impressive and affecting entry in the growing body of work addressing the effects of keeping wild animals in captivity.

It's a well-constructed and thoughtfully paced drama and almost a thriller, but in the end credibility and tension get lost in the mail.

A deliriously fractured film, ambitiously packed with bowling, bimbos and other great inspirations of latter-day thought. Closest in style and temperament to Raising Arizona, this Gramercy release should roll box office strikes with select-siters and score some winning spares with mainstream viewers.

In its hard-hitting depiction of a legacy of unspeakable brutality, this film shows that the ghosts of Leopold are alive and well.

Where there should be intimacy, we get distance. Where one might expect steady meditation, the narrative jitters impulsively.

The movie is amusing and clever but only skin deep. It lacks the acidity and rage of a satire such as "Network."

The relationship between Paxton, Barnes and Mr. Reed remains the most absorbing thread throughout Heretic. Even when the screenplay heads into deflating territory — trading potential acerbity for more neutral conclusions — their cat-and-mouse game keeps us curious and faithful.

The film makes it evident that Bartsch has been a seminal figure in a subculture that, despite her continuing efforts, has come to feel sadly diminished.

Haphazard plotting and seriously undernourished character development aside, none of the emotional stakes have been planted deeply enough to elicit audience involvement in young Pete’s plight.

While on the surface, this is a variation on boyz-in-the-‘hood dramatic staples, the film is rooted in anglicized Arab culture yet universally accessible in its reflections on identity issues. It’s a very promising debut – slick, muscular, entertaining and emotionally satisfying.

As the psychodrama of a lonely woman with a score to settle acquires seriousness it saps the misanthropic sense of mischief and madness, causing the movie to lose its way.

Fortunately this necessary infotainment pill boasts a highly effective sugar-coating thanks to the narration and on-camera presence of moonlighting co-producer Jeremy Irons.

De Oliveira evokes the suffocating, stultifying confines of the family dwelling all too convincingly, to an extent that requires considerable indulgence and attention from his audience. This investment is duly repaid in the second half.

A work of self-conscious experimentalism that's too stilted and distancing to invite involvement, it gets some mileage out of the pulsating rhythms of reggaetón street dance but otherwise is so fragmented it lacks forward motion.

Benyamina has a hard time maintaining her film's pace and plausibility, especially during a third act that slides too far into genre territory and its accompanying clichés.

The impeccable selection of closing clips allows us to reimagine him as a man not just idolized as a star but accepted for the entirety of who he was.

Matt Dillon is pitch-perfect as Bukowski's alter ego Hank Chinaski.

The Coen brothers had a golden opportunity to make a darkly humorous, deliciously clever battle of the sexes, and they let it slip through their fingers. Instead, the duo... settled for a broad farce that is long on manic, cartoonish behavior and short on intelligence and wit.

The film does get claustrophobic. It never quite achieves the balance between a two-character study and a larger world, as did "The Man on the Train." The film also could do with a bit more humor, most of which is supplied by the sagacious shrink.

Stiller manages his movie nicely so that all actors get their share of the comic spotlight. Seldom does an ensemble comedy not contain a single weak character or performance as does this one.

The story often appears a little unreal.

Has the punch of a good Western with a clean and direct script plus an adventurous use of songs and folk paintings.

There's nothing moribund about the action in King Georges, the lively first film directed by doc producer Erika Frankel, which observes the perfectionist workhorse in his kitchen.

What’s quite novel about this work, as opposed to any number of well-made docs about (mostly male) war photographers, is that it directly addresses how Addario’s job impacts her as a mother.

Acted with smart restraint and shot with corresponding composure, this is a somber, slow-moving drama built out of small but acutely observed moments of naturalistic human behavior.

This is the least fun of the Watts/Holland pictures by a wide margin (intentionally so, to some extent), but it’s a hell of a lot better than the last Spidey threequel, Sam Raimi’s overstuffed and ill-conceived Spider-Man 3.

A turbo-charged satire that swaps out Gen X video arcade nostalgia for our current, all-consuming social-media-fueled obsession, the endlessly inventive Walt Disney Studios Animation follow-up impressively levels up with laugh-out-loud consistency.

A handsome and achingly sad period piece, a finely observed portrait of cast-aside dreams. The drama is quieter and more chaste than the similarly themed "Camille Claudel," but no less haunting.

However stilted War Game may feel cinematically, it registers with full force as a realistic depiction of a nightmarish scenario that could easily occur just a few months from now.

Red Eye has a devilish charm. It pulls just about every nail-biting, edge-of-your-seat trick imaginable, yet gets away with it through what is, admittedly, a clever and original gimmick.

An invigorating, funny, and moving portrait of a Hollywood hero.

This superbly crafted yet intimate family drama is so realistic in terms of its setting and technical specificity, it sometimes feels like a documentary. ... It’s perhaps a tad deliberate in spots, hitting its central theme too heavily on the nose, but Proxima pulls off an impressive balancing act between the personal and the astronomical.

As a portrait of French youth ridden by angst and anger toward the powers that be...Nocturama makes an intriguingly cinematic case for showing over telling. But as a depiction of how, and why, terrorists (or anarchists or whatever they are) can take down a city, it falls apart in the face of what happens in the real world.

There isn’t a false note in any of the film’s performances, and within its brief running time, writer-directors Mario Furloni and Kate McLean infuse this story of the changing culture and economics of pot production with an anguished depiction of generational displacement.

Minimalist in terms of action and scope but attentive to the texture of what is onscreen.

Mainly notable for its exoticism and gorgeous scenery.

Pablo Schreiber and Jena Malone hustle to overcome movie-ish dialogue and clichéd story dynamics, investing their life-bruised characters with authentic feeling. They're enough to make you care about the film — and the people in it — even at its clumsiest.

Ultimately, Dresnok comes across as honest and credible, and his story is absolutely fascinating.

For this critic, the events in the home stretch finally feel too much like concessions to the necessities of the laws of fictional drama, with first an unexpected twist followed by a melodramatic one.

Dolls soon becomes overloaded with symbolism, and consequently suffocates the audience.

While hope is a quality not readily associated with the Mexican auteur’s work, it keeps surfacing here to extend a lifeline, even as we wait for the other shoe to drop. In that regard, Franco’s latest represents a slight departure, without surrendering the director’s signature austerity and intensity. He’s helped considerably by Jessica Chastain and Peter Sarsgaard, two riveting leads who hold nothing back.

Earnest, direct and sometimes surprisingly dramatic.

A passably entertaining hodgepodge of old and new animation techniques, mixed sensibilities and hedged commercial calculations.

Although the humor helps, the Groundhog Day-like repetition gets tedious; it makes you feel more like a hamster than a groundhog — or rather a hamster's wheel, going round and round, over and over again.

Fans will love its intimate mood and class-act portrayal of its subject; Dion Beebe's cinematography boasts the expected polish, but the film will likely be most popular on small screens.

Alive with the magic of pictures and the mysteries of silence, this is an uncommonly grownup film about children, communication, connection and memory.

The film offers enough astute insights and terrific interviews and performance footage to attract buffs while serving as a superb introduction for neophytes.

Lucas Belvaux's Rapt is two movies, both excellent, for the price of one.

Tan's screenplay — from a story he developed with his mononymous producer, cinematographer and co-editor, HutcH — doesn't entirely avoid cliche. But the integrity of the performances, the believability of the relationships and the authenticity of the milieu keep it from spilling over into mawkishness.

An account of captivity and torture unlike most that have emerged from recent conflicts in the Middle East, David Schisgall's Theo Who Lived finds, in freed journalist Theo Padnos, a man with surprising empathy for those who beat and nearly killed him.

Themes of courage, patriotism, faith and unwavering adherence to personal beliefs have been a constant through Gibson's directing projects, as has a fascination with bloodshed and gore. Those qualities serve this powerful true story of heroism without violence extremely well, overcoming its occasional cliched battle-movie tropes to provide stirring drama.

The chief wonder of this rock 'n' roll cast is Tom Everett Scott, whose easy charisma, dreamy smile and undersurface intelligence should shoot him up the acting charts like a bullet.

It’s a rather fascinating bit of artistic self-indulgence that’s both made by, and about, self-indulgent men, although one that can certainly grow taxing. [Unrated Version]

Seeing these likable oldsters talk at length is just about the entire point of this picture, which isn't nearly as good at guiding us through history or explaining technical minutiae as it is at relating to their well-earned sense of pride.

American Selfie inevitably feels a bit scattershot at times, no doubt due to the vagaries of Pelosi's travel schedule and her guerilla shooting approach. Some of the footage is revelatory, some feels overly familiar.

Alexis Bloom's damning documentary is a competent but conventional affair, highly watchable but low on fresh angles or bombshell revelations.

As for those over-the-top, extremely gory action sequences, they’re tremendously visceral, the eye-popping animation, propulsive musical score and deafening sound effects (there’s a reason Sony wants you to see the film, released in both Japanese and English-dubbed versions, in IMAX and other premium formats) delivering an enveloping, nearly psychedelic experience.

The drama's moments of cinematic power more than compensate for the slow-moving stretches that don't connect, and its characters will stay with viewers long after the lights go up.

The familiar suburban terrain is enriched by Holofcener's knack for turning offhand moments into piercing ones and, especially, by a magnificently off-center Ben Mendelsohn.

Olive paints a portrait of righteous rage and determination.

It's laugh-packed, self-aware in a manner that lets everyone in on the joke, and goofily satisfying in the action department.

Horror film buffs like to giggle as much as scream but there're no giggles here.

A riveting and often hilarious demonstration of the Slovenian philosopher’s uncanny ability to turn movies inside out and accepted notions on their head.

What unfolds is a match of artistic intellects, thrilling to behold not just for its dynamic array of topics — religion, the Oedipal complex, revolution and, above all, what it means to be a filmmaker — but also for its public unveiling after half a century gathering cobwebs in Welles' celluloid archives.

Suk Suk is his most accomplished, mature film to date, and Yeung demonstrates a keen eye for the social dynamics that impact us and how we respond to them, and finds space to bask in the simple pleasures, basic generosity and the safety net that is family while simultaneously dealing with homophobia, ageism and faith.

The standout performance here is Charli XCX as Bethany, channeling her party girl persona into a character who approaches her wanderings as an introspective vision quest, searching for a deeper truth within herself.

What Frybread Face and Me lacks in drama, it makes up for in a boundless affection for its characters and an appreciation for the everyday details of their lives.

The film is that rare modern horror movie that doesn’t simply fabricate its scares with the standard bag of postproduction tricks. Instead it builds them via a bracing command of traditional suspense tools... This is polished film craft.

Their scenes together are the film's best, with Theron and Oswalt, who have very different tempi and temperatures as performers, parrying and thrusting with great expertise.

A film that starts out as a gimmick but winds up as a genuinely touching character study, though one does wonder whether that is what the filmmaker initially intended.

While the payoff could have used some extra punch, the teasing path that leads there is bewitching, with Lola Kirke serving as an enigmatic guide.

A pleasant mix of quiet comedy and sweet romance born of a sharp eye for contemporary mores. [10 Sept 1992]

Brad's Status is good enough to make you wish it were even better: tighter, bolder, sharper. But it's a droll, affecting movie — and, in its exploration of a man's fantasies of success and fears of failure, his trudge through the weeds of pessimism toward optimism, a distinctly American one.

The most damning account of the failure of the criminal justice system in America anyone is ever likely to see.

The most illuminating nuggets come from playwrights, authors and journalists, including Tony Kushner, Terrence McNally, Larry Kramer, Michael Cunningham, Paul Rudnick, Dan Savageand the late Dominick Dunne, who helped get the movie version made.

Carl Colby's deeply felt exploration of his father's life and career is as emotionally, as it is historically, intriguing, even if the filmmaker ultimately admits that he's never quite able to get to the bottom of his subject's enigmatic personality.

This moving documentary lends a very human face to its powerful environmental message.

Two excellent performances bolster a thoughtful script, and the result is that the discomfort we feel seems perfectly controlled by the filmmakers. The movie is candid and disturbing but never exploitative.

Botso is a deserving homage to a life well lived.

Full of touching moments even if its emotional rewards remain somewhat muted, 52 Tuesdays feels highly personal and is never less than absorbing or sincere in its depiction of a non-traditional family navigating difficult changes.

Leacock proves to be charming company, sprinkling sometimes hilarious personal anecdotes among the high points of his career.

The cinematic clumsiness is a shame, because Equal Means Equal makes many powerful points along its diffuse, rambling way. Here is a case in which less would definitely have been more.

Directors Menachem Daum and Oren Rudavsky may not solve Israeli-Palestinian animosities, but they find illuminating angles of exploration for one of the world’s most intractable conflicts.

Rough-hewn stylistically and occasionally bordering on self-indulgence, 32 Pills: My Sister’s Suicide nonetheless packs a powerful emotional punch with its unflinching portrait of two siblings dealing with past and present demons.

From all indications, he's also that very rare genius who's a lovely guy — a soft-spoken, readily smiling man who is endearing company for the nearly two hours of Emma Franz's Bill Frisell: A Portrait.

The film would not have the same impact without the commanding lead performance. Thanks to Ramos’s affecting work, Fistful of Dirt sticks in the memory.

At 93 minutes, Lady could stand to be longer. The conversations between the women could go further. Nwosu is digging around in fertile ground, but there’s always a sense that things could go deeper. As it is, the film excels at depicting the complexity of female friendship within a devastating and isolating economic landscape.

It’s another breathless chamber piece, expertly crafted to pack dread into every nerve-rattling sound.

Unfortuately, the film emerges more as a listless travelogue than as a philosophical trek. Stylized in the manner of "Badlands" with a flat voice-over from the film's dullard female lead, River of Grass is a meandering and ultimately uninvolving film. [26 Jan 1994]

De Pencier’s cinematography has a good eye for the beauty and horror of man-made or -altered landscapes, and it is hard to deny that the film benefits from being seen on as large a screen as possible, as impressive crane or drone shots fill the screen. But like with Burtynsky’s photographs, it is also hard to deny that the beauty of these shots stands in stark contrast to their purported message.

Resistance is futile. It's impossible not to be swept up into the uplifting world of Mad Hot Ballroom, a documentary that can be neatly summed up as the "Spellbound" of competitive ballroom dancing.

A fascinating if uneven portrait.

A smart doc that's as earnest and scattered as the viewers likely to seek it out, Astra Taylor's What Is Democracy? looks around at the world and realizes that even those of us on the right sides of things aren't always sure what we're fighting for.