Wellesians will vigorously debate the aesthetic results of this torturously achieved accomplishment but, to the credit of those who, against daunting odds and nearly a half-century's worth of obstacles, arduously pushed this project to completion, the end result feels like a plausible fulfillment of the style Welles himself established for it.

Nachman and Hardy have produced another winning and relatable doc combining emotive storytelling with concisely focused filmmaking that's sure to charm viewers well beyond a sizable audience of dog lovers.

Indeed, the picture works best when it eschews dialogue and plot altogether and the lush musical elements combine with the intense hues of Manu Dacosse's 16mm-shot visuals to stimulatingly trippy effect.

The optimism of Inventing Tomorrow is quite uplifting, with dauntless teenage thinkers from diverse cultural and economic backgrounds working with resourcefulness and imagination to develop practical solutions to local eco threats.

Though it is intermittently witty, visually playful and laudable in its attempt to appeal to both head and heart, Laws abandons its characters to its big concept.

Attempts scares and yucks in equal measure and fails to deliver either.

Writer-director Boaz Yakin, who has directed everything from veteran movie stars to canine thesps in his career, has a harder time with child actors, eliciting performances that are uneven enough to attract attention to the script's weaker aspects.

The screenplay co-written by Clark and Thomas Moffett attempts to derive much humor from Atticus' relentless debauchery, but it all feels pro forma and repetitive.

[Yorgos Lanthimos'] fabulously entertaining tragicomedy, The Favourite, is a juicy power tangle connecting three women in the royal court of early 18th-century England, played by a divine trio who bounce off one another with obvious relish.

Roma may not be the memoir film many might have expected from such an adventurous, sometimes raunchy, sci-fi/fantasy-oriented filmmaker, but it’s absolutely fresh, confident, surprising and rapturously beautiful.

Grillo uncharacteristically displays no charisma, although considering the material he's working with, it's not surprising that he looks like he simply gave up. Speaking of giving up, Willis, who provides a few sparks to the otherwise lamentable Death Wish remake, here reverts to his by now usual phoning it in.

Gleeson plays the role with the kind of full-bore commitment (every supercilious gesture precise and intelligently thought through) that makes you wish the movie better complemented his efforts.

The frequent zigzagging back and forth between the 2010s, the present, the early 2000s and Arulpragasam's childhood becomes quite dizzying over the long haul, and the film almost starts to feel like a work that's gotten lost in the editing suite as the director and subject struggle to say everything about globalism, fame, identity and whatever else comes into their heads, until the film is at risk of saying nothing much at all.

It’s a credit to the filmmakers and to lead actor Ryan Gosling’s thoughtfully internalized performance as Neil Armstrong that this sober, contemplative picture has emotional involvement, visceral tension, and yes, even suspense, in addition to stunning technical craft.

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.

Greene is concerned with Western mythology and the interplay of past and present in Bisbee's self-dramatization. His intense focus on individuals can feel limiting in terms of the overall truth-and-reconciliation dynamic, but it also leads to some powerful moments. And the story's contemporary resonance couldn't be clearer.

At its strongest, the film feels like kin to Kirsten Johnson’s great Cameraperson (2016), a free-associative nonfiction memoir comprised mostly of B-roll and personal footage. Though the subject here isn’t Ross himself (despite a few offscreen aural appearances) but an entire community that, in both micro- and macrocosmic senses, has remained historically unacknowledged and unseen.

Newcomer Myles Truitt inhabits the role with an earthbound soulfulness — what you might call the opposite of heroic flash — and even when the film’s progress feels more mechanical than organic, he’s easy to root for.

A fable-like story about a young African girl banished from her village for alleged witchcraft, it blends deadpan humor with light surrealism, vivid visuals and left-field musical choices.

As anachronistic as A Paris Education may seem (a running time of 136 minutes doesn’t always help matters, either), there’s a conviction to the storytelling that can’t be denied, and no matter what your tastes are, it’s hard not to be moved by Etienne’s struggle to find his voice amid so much doubt and disillusion.

This assuredly crafted exploration of the intricacies of early 20th-century social stratification...soars on the strengths of sympathetic scripting and striking wildlands cinematography.

Sadly, Oliver Daly's kid-oriented feature only strains hopelessly for Amblin Entertainment-style magic. The result is that A.X.L. feels in desperate need of repairs.

Notwithstanding the talking-head commentary of friends, colleagues and exes, this is very much a first-person story, taking its narrative cues from Fonda's self-searching 2005 autobiography.

Severely wasting the talents of Rosemary DeWitt, who really, really deserves better material, Arizona is as arid and barren as the state that provides its title.

The main virtue of the film lies in the thoughtful interviews given by the Israeli and Palestinian negotiators, both the accompanying voiceover commentaries and their later on-camera appearances.

A hopelessly muddled, tedious exercise that barely manages an interesting moment despite its plethora of violence and gore. As usual, Rockwell gives it his all, but he's unable to rescue the film from being instantly forgettable.

An L.A. Minute simply recycles clichés in an unconvincing matter that smacks more of sitcom tropes than the big screen.

Colin Minihan's What Keeps You Alive sets itself up promisingly enough before succumbing to a progression of implausibilities and excesses that test even this genre's lenient standards.

Unashamedly formulaic and relentlessly puerile, The Festival is no better than it needs to be, which may be as much commercial calculation as artistic limitation.

For the most part, footage of rehearsals and competition is lackluster.

Though those glimpses don't add up to what most people would call a portrait, they do evoke a life of old-fashioned female pampering, and contain just enough of Sellam's quirky personality to make those habits charming.

It's more than funny enough, packing lots of genuine, if frequently tasteless, laughs into its relatively brief running time

Isaac and Kingsley bring quite a bit to Orton's dialogue, sometimes seeming to mean it at face value and sometimes inviting skepticism.

Stephen Maing's documentary about the NYPD's illegal policing quotas and other discriminatory practices gets the blood boiling.

Its subversive undercurrent, embodied in fine performances by Emily Mortimer and Bill Nighy, is what makes it really interesting.

A high-risk shot at a screen adaptation of a novel within a novel, The Motive is entertaining and buzzes with fun ideas, but as an involving drama, it never gets past the first chapter.

The leads all take this as seriously as possible, and Lennon goes the extra mile by investing scenes with Edgar's parents with believable emotional baggage.

Its elegant subtlety feels refreshing in this era of over-the-top horror films.

Though peppy and bright enough that it might amuse some kids should it show up on a screen in front of them somewhere, it offers no reason for their adult guardians to actually take them someplace to watch it.

So understated in both its dramatic and comedic aspects that it fails to make any real impression whatsoever, Dr. Brinks & Dr. Brinks demonstrates little reason for being.

The screenplay suffers from a severe imagination deficit, as if this twisted take on "meet cute" should be enough by itself to hang a movie on. It isn't.

The end result is pleasant but bland.

A Whale of a Tale delivers a thoughtful riposte to The Cove even while providing plenty of opportunity for those opposed to the practice of killing or capturing whales and dolphins to make their case.

Like an athlete who leaves it all on the field, the film leaves it all in the moment and on the screen, and there's really nothing to take away afterwards. There is nothing to think about, no nuances to contemplate, no connection with these characters who exist only in moments of hyper-tension and crisis, no greater truths to consider other than to prevail.

For all the technical prowess on display, Notes on an Appearance proves too fragmentary to hold the viewer's interest. Its minimalist aesthetic quickly becomes wearisome, lacking sufficient variety or substance to warrant even a brief running time.

Though it shows some strain in containing the topic's inherent sprawl, the doc is more thoughtful than some of its predecessors, and benefits from interviews with newsmakers like Elon Musk and, even better, Westworld co-creator Jonathan Nolan.

With an ineptitude so thorough it borders on genius, Cummings achieves the rare feat of making Sheeran appear even more boring in person than he is on record.

Enjoyably old-fashioned in its narrative but crisply modern in technique, it is engaging enough even for those of us with no soft spot for pets.

The film mostly tests viewers' ability to stay awake — and the one or two actual creepy moments it has up its sleeve come far, far too late to be potent.

The child's discovery of the beauty of nature, the workaday brutalities of farm life and the adult world's disappointments and betrayals rings true, to a point, and the young actor in the role is memorably guarded and watchful. In Hjörleifsdóttir's adaptation, though, the themes are too studied and neat, playing out in a way that can feel oppressive rather than revelatory.

The veteran Philippine genre-meister's ultraviolent action blockbuster goes beyond easy moral binaries to highlight how Duterte's warped worldview has made monsters out of everyone from the police to the peddlers to the ordinary people in between, all of them doing the bloody bidding of a corrupt political class.

Despite the general bloat, The Last 49 Days has its share of little pleasures.

While Hope Springs Eternal lacks the depth and pathos of such similarly themed films as Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, it delivers its relevant message with a refreshing breeziness.

To say that The Package is one continuous dirty joke with an outrageously absurd premise wouldn’t be an exaggeration. It’s also a funny, sweet, raucous teen comedy that’s by turns ridiculous and raunchy, but thankfully never too profound.

The main problem is that the storyline becomes so convoluted that it doesn't live up to the intriguing setup. Most of the film's second half is consumed by plodding exposition that is not exactly handled in imaginative fashion.

The film succeeds at being both exciting and character-driven, but only after a confused first half that will leave international viewers frustrated over who’s who and what’s going on.

It's both a relief and a pleasure to report that this high-gloss rom-com — based on the bestselling novel of a Singaporean author, directed by an Asian-American and featuring an all-Asian cast — is such a thoroughly captivating exploration of the rarefied question of whether true love can conquer head-spinning wealth.

Blandly internationalized, generically derivative, drained of any personality, edited as if by computer and bleached of the slightest hint of emotion other than a holiday card-like sympathy for children and allegedly cute animals, The Meg is a one hundred percent inorganic meal, something made from pre-tasted and then regurgitated ingredients.

For undemanding audiences not looking for too much substance in the summer's dog days, Dog Days should go down relatively easy.

Despite the professionalism of the acting talent, Like Father feels distressingly retrograde.

Christopher's lengthy two-hander scenes with Pooh quickly wear out their welcome; what at first is agreeably amusing shortly becomes grating, then just tedious.

The filmmaking and performances are so amateurish that any possibility of even the guiltiest of pleasures are quickly erased.

Cocote tells a relatively simple story in willfully obscure, opaque fashion. While the film features many intriguing elements and often proves visually stunning, it ultimately feels a trial to endure.

This kind of film wouldn’t stand a chance if the actors weren’t believable but Garcia (who starred in El Amparo, which Cordova edited) and non-professional Reyes are both understated but utterly authentic.

Only in its final moments do things crystallize with a nasty, half-ironic commentary.

The emotional moments that push her life in new directions must be colored in by the audience. Though that never feels like much of an intellectual challenge, and the 127-minute film is in no hurry to paint its picture, something about Milla's ordinariness makes her worth getting to know.

Set in a cartoonishly seedy version of California's Inland Empire, this lowlife tale of bikers and reality-show politicians diverts without quite justifying its presence as a feature, though many fans of both artists will be pleased with what appears to be a happy collaboration.

Beyond celebrating the music, 40 Years in the Making: The Magic Music Movie has something to say about the compromises and reconciliations that are a part of aging, and it turns out to make for a stirring and healing reunion.

For all of its incendiary arguments, Death of a Nation is ultimately tedious and repetitive. No one expects, of course, that D'Souza would make a thoughtful, balanced or historically accurate documentary. But is it unreasonable to hope that he make one that doesn't bore the pants off us?

It's a derivative bore, all popped collars, douchey bros and hand-me-down psychology, that gets its characters up to their necks in borrowed money just long enough to have it really hurt when the accounts run dry.

Young moviegoers who haven't yet tired of cookie-cutter dystopias will find a sympathetic protagonist played by Amandla Stenberg; but viewers who've taken this ride enough times to want, for instance, subtext addressing real-world oppression should look elsewhere.

Lensed with great sensitivity and style and superbly acted, it has one drawback for Western audiences in its perplexing plot points based on the local culture and customs.

It's been made with genuine feeling and smooth professional craftsmanship.

Good-naturedly gruff, unabashedly resourceful and proudly Australian, Occupation gets the job done with a minimum of fuss and an abundance of explosive set pieces that will likely endear it to domestic fans, even if it’s mostly forgettable otherwise.

Arguably, the film's hard turn into Scaresville taints what has made it appealing up to this point — and certainly, a tease in its final shot is a cheap gesture toward a possible sequel. But what comes before benefits from the cast's solid familial chemistry and an unhurried approach to the question: Should we want to talk to loved ones who've died, or leave them (and ourselves) in peace?

The first hour is the strongest, graced as it is by Estiano's nuanced performance as a conventional-seeming young woman who gradually and very sympathetically reveals her inner self after welcoming Clara into her life.

McKinnon dives head-first into every imbecilic scene, and Kunis stoically pretends to believe her BFF is sentient. But the movie around them is a wreck, and no amount of cloak-and-dagger will keep that secret for long.

14 Cameras is another pointless exercise that equates sliminess with terror. The film is creepy, all right, but not in a way that proves remotely edifying.

Displaying an amateurishness that undercuts even its more promising elements, Hell Mountain is the sort of instantly forgettable cheapie effort that has become all too prevalent in movie theaters and VOD listings. This one is for hard-core horror movie completists only.

Moving to Charlottesville, Lough puts viewers in the action. We don't talk to journalists or politicians about what happened the weekend Heather D. Heyer was killed; we stand in crowds and watch the events unfold.

Snapshots presents a moving portrait of its central relationship doomed by societal constrictions. The female characters are well-drawn and vibrant, while the men are depicted sympathetically.

Though it’s a series that has seen its day, this swan song should attract genre die-hards with its elegant visuals and some humorously imaginative murders which are the director’s trademark.

The central premise is arresting, as is the style, but there's a lot more that could have been done with it than just show how one ill-defined individual instantly opts to join his country's lowest form of life.

93Queen is rough-hewn technically and, although it includes brief interviews with several other members of the female EMT corps, it would have benefited from a wider focus. But it's excusable that the filmmaker would concentrate so much on her central figure, whose fierce intelligence and indomitable spirit render her truly inspirational.

First-time long-form directors Costantini and Foster, working from a script co-written with Jeffrey Plunkett, demonstrate admirable resourcefulness and empathy approaching their diverse teen subjects.

Thierry is utterly convincing and compelling from first to last, in a deglamorized but sensual performance of tautly controlled severity and uncompromising rigor.

Whereas Aferim! was a thrilling epic that uncovered a piece of Romanian history heretofore largely ignored, Hearts hardly develops a pulse, hiding the faces of the protagonists in immobile medium and wide shots while any possible emotions get snowed under by non-contextualized intellectual musings and socio-politico-historical details.

At a certain point, anyone who reads Bowers’ book or sees this film has to decide whether to believe him or not. At this stage, there is no reason not to; Scotty does not seem remotely like a braggart or someone desperate for a sliver of late-in-life fame.

Although obviously geared to the small fry who will no doubt eat it up, Teen Titans Go! To the Movies will provide many laughs for their adult chaperones as well.

Introducing an indie auteur whose fans are fervent if comparatively few, Steve Mitchell's King Cohen is a low-rent but colorful tribute to the septuagenarian writer-director who horrified audiences with the monster-baby It's Alive franchise.

Partly a visually stunning celebration of nature and partly a record of Diaz’s triumphs and trials, both practical and psychological, Days, which takes its titular cue (and nothing else) from Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude, aims at reconsideration of our relationship with nature and our place in it and, despite going overboard on the grandiose drone images, mainly does so in a winningly down-to-earth way.

D’Souza seems too distracted by pyrotechnics to focus on getting believable performances from his cast. By presenting every lengthy fight scene in ultra-slow motion, he needlinessly draws out the film to an endless, nearly three-hour run time.

Sadly, Berk’s stale screenplay simply lacks the heft or depth to lift it above third-hand homage to earlier, better, smarter films.

Okada both wrote and directed Maquia, which showcases her ability to depict complex relationships and project delicate character arcs.

Stiffly scripted and stoically directed, Siberia shamelessly squanders the particular appeal of its charismatic lead and wastes an inordinate amount of screen time going practically nowhere, except undoubtedly right to VOD.

Mystery-wise, the film teases viewers pretty effectively, with plenty of jolts that suggest the boys are on the right track balanced by other signs they're making something out of nothing.... But with a couple of small exceptions, attempts to flesh out the teen characters don't work very well.

The protagonists here aren't as insufferable as those in the first Unfriended, but Susco's plot gets harder to buy by the minute; as a first-time director, he doesn't get much out of his cast; and boy, does this Screenlife gimmick grow thin quickly.

Even though the evil impulses of the villains feel rote and arbitrary, The Equalizer 2 is not without its pleasures.