That it all works to the extent that it does is due to its undeniably sweet depiction of a close-knit extended family whose members truly care for and help each other. It's cinematic wish fulfillment in this era of broken families and far-off relatives who keep in touch via social media.

The intense, uncomfortable drama’s downbeat nature is offset to a degree by the sensitivity of its observation, but the film serves primarily as a showcase for the emotionally raw lead performance of Rory Culkin.

The overall result remains quite light, is occasionally funny but finally never manages to probe very deeply.

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

Exerting significant control over the film – from a screenplay filled with modern resonance to very effective production design – Lee just barely manages to overcome the jarring problem posed by its (mugging) American cast.

A good-looking debut offering more atmosphere than action.

Diez's effects teams have tremendous fun with the gory ways they tear through their hosts' bodies when it's time to leave the chrysalis behind.

To use what, under the circumstances, is a far too convenient metaphor, Bay is interested in accelerating from zero to 100 as quickly as possible and then maintaining speed, rather than skillfully shifting gears and adjusting speeds based on curves, hills and road conditions. In this case, he gets you there, but you know the ride could have been a lot more varied and nuanced.

This B-movie, reminiscent of '70s era grindhouse fare, is a reasonably proficient and professional debut that fulfills its modest aspirations.

Sanga establishes the film’s offbeat style by frequently relying on Kieslowski’s quirky voiceover to frame events, a technique that boosts the effectiveness of characterization but somewhat diminishes the impact of plot developments.

Stylish but slight, Arnby's debut feature ultimately sticks within werewolf movie conventions, adding little fresh to the form.

For a younger generation who think that Madonna and Lady Gaga represent the heights of outrageousness, The Outrageous Sophie Tucker stands as a much needed reminder that they have a very large debt to pay.

If the resulting drama, Stonewall, seldom escapes its cliches or cookie-cutter characters, it also recounts a political origin story in relatable, often affecting terms.

Director David Gordon Green’s latest unpredictable addition to his resume is offbeat and appealing on some levels but is neither as funny nor as trenchant as it might have been.

The film boasts enough manic energy and straight-up weirdness to keep you entertained before overstaying its welcome in the final act.

While the director unleashes his taut action sequences like clockwork, he's less deft in handling the characterizations and the decade-leaping plot, which seems designed to provide the film with some historical weight.

Rosenwald is not always successful in doing full justice to its rich subject matter, suffering from pacing problems and occasionally feeling drawn-out in its feature-length running time.... But it certainly deserves kudos for bringing long overdue attention to this unsung figure whose life was one big mitzvah.

Norm of the North is mildly diverting, although Pixar needn't be overly concerned.

Bringing good old-fashioned Mediterranean emotion to a screenplay that feels oh so familiar, this modern-day weepie unapologetically plays to the crowd rather than the critics.

An enjoyable entry into the swelling ranks of corrupt-the-youth comedies.

Solid and informative... the affectionate film benefits from plenty of face time with its frank, amiably plain-vanilla subject.

From a sensory point of view, the film is a pleasure, the images having been manipulated in various ways to evocative effect, Anderson’s voiceovers proving more amusing than not, and the music taking mostly lively turns.

The film feels empty and intellectualized at the core, where it should feel powerfully emotional.

Owens’ triumph is long overdue for big-screen treatment, and director Stephen Hopkins delivers stirring moments amid the tension-free stretches, particularly once the action moves to Berlin.

Sweaty Betty has a likable quality and an obvious affection for its subjects who maintain a resolute cheerfulness throughout their struggles. But it's hard not to wish that the shambling material had been constructed into a more cohesive whole.

It’s unfortunate that Light feels both too traditional and too concerned with showcasing life behind the music, instead of trying to explain why Williams was one of the greatest American musicians of the last century.

Whatever nuance can be found in Front Cover, the story of an openly gay fashion stylist and a seemingly homophobic Chinese movie star, belongs chiefly to the performances of Jake Choi and James Chen.

Florence Foster Jenkins is a modestly enjoyable crowd-pleaser, but it ultimately feels smaller than its subject, a deeply conventional portrait of a highly unconventional woman.

Meyer, whose credits include co-directing and co-editing the classic Grey Gardens, largely employs a fly-on-the-wall approach here that sometimes makes for less than compelling viewing. Nonetheless, the film earns points for the importance of its message.

Office is undermined by a simplistic screenplay lacking the nuances and frisson one expects of a cutting-edge satire of a capitalist world propelled by graft and greed.

One wonders if A Brave Heart might have been more effective as a short film than as a feature. The characters and the story compel our attention, but the film runs out of steam before the end.

Heist nonetheless has a B-movie appeal thanks to its strong ensemble and wacky commitment to its overcomplicated, wildly absurd plotting.

Risen is fairly engrossing in its thriller-like section, with Fiennes' restrained performance providing a solid dramatic anchor and the Maori actor Curtis being a nice change from the usual blonde-hair/blue-eyed Jesus. But when the film shifts into inspirational territory it ironically becomes far more prosaic, depicting the miracles in a low-budget, low-key fashion that will hardly win any converts.

While the stories the film tells are lively and never uninteresting, they fail to ignite an emotional explosion. The reach is also too broad for a film.

Ruhm's lively pace keeps the plot's essential silliness from growing tiresome, even if it never kicks into the high-octane farce the picture seems to seek.

Ultimately little more than an extended commercial for his new album. That said, it is an effortless pleasure to watch

Mustang fanatics will be thrilled by the level of access that Ford provided the filmmakers to shoot at the company’s Dearborn, Mich., headquarters and interview the Mustang design team headed by chief engineer Dave Pericak. Even so, it may be difficult to escape a sense that the film sometimes plays like an extended product promo.

A bit too rambling and diffuse to be fully educational, We Weren't Just Bicycle Thieves nonetheless serves as a valuable introduction to its subject.

While visually dynamic, Lightning McQueen’s newest challenge still feels out of alignment with a languid end result that lacks sufficient forward momentum.

As structurally simple as a high school book report, the doc is frequently dry but comes packed with performance footage, scores of interviews, and enough biographical detail to let us form our own ideas about the trickier scenes it elides in its attempt to fit an entire complicated life into under two hours.

The Boy From Geita is a harrowing depiction of ignorance and superstition run amuck.

Writer/director Nick Sandow finds a tailor-made lead in Vincent Piazza, who both looks the part and makes sense of his character's ridiculous aspirations; with Patricia Arquette playing the girlfriend who stood by his side, the picture of debased ambition is almost too convincing to enjoy.

This is a genial, humane project with obvious fan appeal. But for anyone expecting a definitive behind-the-scenes film about the making of Star Wars, this is not the documentary you have been looking for.

Heneral Luna is a sturdy, stirring if perhaps sometimes simplistic historical epic about bravery and treachery in a country at war.

There is a darkness in all these “average” characters, underlined by low-key acting and the film’s sinisterly calm, measured pace.

Although undercut at times by self-indulgence that includes navel-gazing narration by the filmmaker, Rock in the Red Zone delivers a moving portrait of a musical community that's managed to survive under far greater pressures than worrying about the next gig.

Schumer and Hawn know what funny looks and sounds like, and they lend their dialogue and gags — no matter how tepid — enough snap and personality to distract you, at least some of the time, from the utter laziness of the material.

Though convincing in its (not exactly obscure) point that something needs to be done, and occasionally enlightening, Price suffers in comparison to the earlier film, with points that are often not adequately explored and decorative flourishes that distract instead of enhancing.

It’s always entertaining to tag along with these attractive actors on their photogenic journey.

An informative if less than thrilling account of a historic career.

Building on a string of B-movie action titles like Assassin’s Bullet and Ninja, martial arts veteran Florentine doesn’t need any schooling on running an efficient and energetic production.

The film embraces ambiguity in the end, with a coda that places Marco and Carla on the same level but not in the same place. The scene's unsettled but peaceful mood seems an honest reflection of its characters' lives.

The Nightingale is technically remarkable. Beyond its socio-political context, however, the film offers hardly anything inventive to the familiar generation-gap rite-of-passage dramedy.

The whimsically humorous script relies primarily on playing up the individual idiosyncrasies of the characters rather than full-on comedic situations, although the overall approach remains grounded in reality, rather than taking to Wes Anderson-style flights of fancy.

Bollywood spectacular is bloated, but hits the right emotional targets.

A likeable if not especially vibrant doc.

Its feature-length assemblage of found footage, unified by an original soundtrack and eccentric narration by Tilda Swinton, will be too much of a good thing for some art-house patrons. But auds accustomed to the work of Bill Morrison and other archive-combing meditation artists should respond warmly.

An uneven but promising sophomore outing for Montreal-based Italian director Simone Rapisarda Casanova.

Where Guan excels is in straight dramatization.

Mostly one wishes for a more concise edit that would pull this impressive avalanche of memories and faded photos together a lot sooner.

Victoria is definitely what you would call a passive protagonist, and although the film subtly explores questions of ethnic identity, it doesn't necessarily keep one engaged until the end.

Illumination’s latest plays to the company’s strengths, with inventive character and background design, hyper-rendered animation that pushes the technology envelope, especially in the realm of lighting and cute sight gags. But just as with, for example, The Secret Life of Pets or Minions (and let’s not even go there with Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax), storytelling remains the outfit’s weak spot.

Title deploys a fairly effective range of horror techniques, including jump scares, misdirection and some oddly unattractive VFX to ratchet up the tension, although gore is at a minimum.

Bad Moms milks the “women behaving badly” conceit with a single-mindedness that might be depressing if the movie didn’t have an ace up its sleeve: the glorious Hahn, who injects what could have been another insipid studio hack job with a bracing shot of personality.

There are some fascinating cracks in his constantly upbeat personality that Rice manages to smuggle in. A little more of this material, or at least a little more carefully edited and juxtaposed with the rest, might have made the film less of a valentine for Oakley fans and more of a fascinating behind-the-scenes look at a relatively new phenomenon in general and this "personality" in particular.

Embers strains for a philosophical profundity that eludes it. And despite its brief running time, so little actually happens in the plot that it feels much longer than it is. But the film has many resonant moments.

Since from her other features it is clear she's an uncompromising director, it should perhaps come as no surprise that this film is as unapologetically personal and self-absorbed as it is, making no attempt to draw in viewers perhaps unfamiliar with the filmmaker.

Though Dockendorf doesn’t deliver the intended dramatic punch, he’s fully in sync with his lead characters, and Cook and Johnson are never less than engaging.

An explosive family drama whose intense performances can't always compensate for such a heavy-handed scenario, Bad Hurt nonetheless marks a promising directorial debut from playwright Mark Kemble.

The good news is that the movie is half decent. The caveat is that it could have been a lot better.

There’s so much to root for here it’s painful to concede there’s some hideously on-the-nose, spell-out-the-motivation-in-capital-letters writing that lowers the tone.

Life may be as unfair and arbitrary as Solondz portrays it, but it is arguably more diverse in its moods and its ups and downs. The pic may not be a dog, but nor is it likely to become anyone’s best friend.

Once the pieces are all in their places, the deliberate set-up begins to pay some dividends to those who relish the form.

The creepy evocativeness of its superbly utilized setting...and the well-realized creature designs make it a more than respectable horror effort. The haunting final shot alone makes it worth the price of admission.

The movie's structure is peculiar, laying out a mystery and solving it early on, then spending half the film making us wonder how satisfying that solution was.

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]

The inspirational memoir Miracles From Heaven transfers to the big screen as a wholesome, crowd-pleasing drama, one whose subject is faith and gratitude. The tone is frequently more searching than self-satisfied, and the harrowing medical crisis that drives the family story gives it the nonreligious urgency to preach beyond the choir.

Although it’s clear that her dauntingly complex personality contributes to her abilities as a superior storyteller, Feuerzeig and Albert now ask us to believe a proven unreliable narrator’s account of her own life, which largely lacks corroboration.

The cast’s performances adhere to appropriately exaggerated comedic expectations, but could have benefitted from more specific character differentiation.

The uneven drama remains reasonably engrossing thanks to affecting performances from Boyd Holbrook and Elisabeth Moss.

This one is straight out of the old-school Sundance manual. Still, there's enough warmth, humor and heart in the very slick package, not to mention a gaggle of accomplished and well-cast actors.

Jim ultimately raises more questions than it can answer, so it cannot be considered a completely satisfying documentary. Nevertheless, it builds undeniable emotional force as it reaches its somber conclusion.

Galland's film plays more like a cable-ready mystery than a cult film in the making, offering just enough chuckles to stay afloat.

When it isn’t trying too hard to be instructive or jokey, Tykwer’s film fluently conveys the hard truth of diminished relevance, geopolitical as well as personal. Hanks’ portrayal of a man caught between utter defeat and a yearning to begin again is pitch-perfect.

The Great Gilly Hopkins has its enjoyable moments — Bates' entertaining, scenery-chewing turn providing many of them — and its themes are refreshingly complex for a film targeted to kids.

Despite a warmly interacting cast that includes Jennifer Ehle as Emily’s sister and Keith Carradine as her lion-maned, lionized father, and a valiant effort on the part of Nixon and Davies to externalize the poet’s inner demons in emotional, high-tension scenes, the film can’t escape an underlying static quality that extinguishes the flame before it can get burning.

Some of the surprises in store play better than others.

One of the flaws that keeps the film being as engaging as it might be is the way every shot seems to last about the same amount of time, producing a monotonous visual rhythm that only serves to make the plot seem even more episodic.

With its overt nods to movies, nonlinear structure and purple-tinged dialogue, the self-conscious artifice of Hauck’s first feature can be suffocating. This narrative puzzle should be more fun than it is.

A flawed but affecting two-hander that intrigues and frustrates in nearly equal measure.

Delivering some genuinely creepy slow-burn moments before devolving into baroque excess, Emelie delivers a nasty twist on an all-too-common scenario.

Though the material is juicy and the interviews heartfelt, the doc doesn't completely succeed in efforts to explain the spell this and similar groups cast on their acolytes.

For all its relatability, the movie is safe and sitcomishly amusing rather than sharply funny, hitting the same genial notes over and over instead of building real comic momentum.

Throughout, connoisseurs of Cage's career should appreciate a performance that rides the edge of his crazy tendencies.

Walken is the main attraction here; though the film identifies more with the wayward daughter, played by Amber Heard, it doesn't make her nearly as interesting as his name-dropping, spotlight-hogging entertainer.

Cranston turns every moment of duplicity, which is to say nearly every scene of The Infiltrator, into an emotionally textured high-wire act.

Coming in a few notches below the terror factor of Wan’s most exemplary material, this somewhat less-satisfying variation of an ill-fated haunting nonetheless represents a solid debut for Swedish filmmaker David F. Sandberg

This offbeat indie chiller benefits from colorful cinematography and bits of satisfying butchery, even if a less than airtight scenario fails to make it run efficiently.