Based on a true story that's perhaps less famous than some others but just as intriguing, this serious-minded — no Helen Keller jokes, please — period film is nonetheless quite entertaining and, finally, moving.

A film that admirably tries to remain true to the slightly gritty spirit of its source material. Unfortunately, it also occasionally sprays the wall with maudlin touches and misjudged additions to the story.

Yelchin delivers one of those performances that pop eyes... It's a breakthrough role.

The comedy star's legions of fans will welcome the cheerfully crude proceedings as a return to silliness after several earnest, lower-key character turns. The melange of Middle East diplomacy, action absurdity, sexual healing and, when in doubt, hummus, wavers between muscular and middling. It's a surefire hit.

Writer-director Richard Shepard assembles all the elements for a dark suspense comedy only to lose his way in a surfeit of plot mechanics and unlikely behavior.

Ultimately, its success may depend on how emotionally satisfying audiences find this flirtation with Jewish mysticism.

An exhausting pièce d’indulgence from the veteran video/feature director, who can never quite shape all the bric-a-brac, not to mention an all-star Gallic cast, into a workable whole.

The picture struggles to find a satisfying rhythm as the members of this multinational, co-ed team get slooshed up by Calvin or suffer related lethal mishaps.

An engrossing, unfailingly lucid account of a momentous political breakthrough that interrupted a decades-long impasse. Few will be unmoved by its sorrowful timeliness.

Writer-director Tyler Riggs’ feature debut has a ripe, palpable sense of place and a pair of magnetic leads in Nisalda Gonzalez and Matthew Leone as the young lovers. All that promise and potential make the film’s eventual surrender to narrative cliché and thematic overreach all the more frustrating.

In reviving one of the more toxic friendships in recent movie history, Feig reunites two stars whose chemistry makes this twisty, often very ridiculous and sometimes trying movie more compelling.

Even when the explanations don’t pass muster, the pictures strike a chord.

Ladyworld proves as much of an endurance test for viewers as the central characters.

Although director Alan Taylor manages to get things going properly for the final battle in London, the long stretches before that on Asgard and the other branches of Yggdrasil are a drag.

Even if it takes itself a tad too seriously, it delivers enough nail-biting stress and terror to justify a trip to the multiplex for action-thriller fans.

Laura Wade’s adaptation of her hit play, Posh, has sacrificed much of its savage comedy en route to the screen, and while the dark drama is never dull, its portrait of upper-crust entitlement run amok is seldom surprising either.

It all feels old hat by now, with returning director Michael Chaves (The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It, The Nun II) failing to bring much freshness or vitality to the proceedings.

Under Buscemi's overall smart direction, the acting is terrific.

Not the worst but is very far from the best film the star has made in his career.

Too much of what happens as the characters undergo their various brushes with failure and redemption feels predetermined, slapping what aims to be a much savvier film with a debilitating touch of the formulaic.

Netflix's To All the Boys: P.S. I Still Love You is a charmless sequel to a charmless YA rom-com. (Extra rom, hold the com.)

That Best Sellers works to the extent that it does is a testament to Caine’s ultra-professionalism — he truly is a treasure who can make any film worth watching — and Plaza’s canny underplaying. They work together so well, you wish they were in a better movie.

Another effective civics lesson that, unfortunately, will probably never be seen by the people whose minds it seeks to change.

Competent on all fronts but never dazzling, it should please genre devotees.

It’s a credit to the cast and Rodriguez’s assured direction that we believe Miguel’s efforts stand a chance.

It’s a thriller at times, but also a wickedly funny dark comedy. And it features a nostalgia-inducing yacht rock soundtrack that slyly comments on the action.

The movie's soul, such as it is, remains unimproved, and at 242 minutes, very few of them offering much pleasure, it's nearly unendurable as a single-sitting experience. If it were watched in parts — title cards identify six chapters and an epilogue, and some rumors suggested it would be released as a series — those segments would fail to deliver the shapely balance of energies and pacing that one expects these days from even a merely competent TV show.

The film’s restricted scope of analysis and limited selection of sources threatens to undermine its conclusions.

Green's grasp of this tender, family-focused story shows equal restraint and compassion, and mastery of a tricky structure.

Although more than a little meandering and self-indulgent, the film is likeable nonetheless thanks to its incisive characterizations and canny capturing of true-life moments.

Many of the gags are either derivative or homages, depending on your perspective, including the vicious killer bunnies that bring to mind Monty Python and the Holy Grail. But that doesn’t make them any less funny.

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

While it makes no bones about where its sympathies lie, these fictional stories show a genuine fascination with the role politics plays on both sides of such confrontations and how things can spin out of control with no single person to blame.

Even when it veers into familiar territory, I Am Woman remains entertaining and sharply packaged.

Wavers between would-be satire and romantic drama, inhabiting neither mode convincingly.

A dash of showbiz pizzazz has been lost but some welcome emotional depth has been gained in the big-screen version of the still-thriving theatrical smash Jersey Boys.

The screenplay finds ways to make this more involving than the average flee-the-monster storyline and, by the genre's standards, direction and performances rate reasonably well.

While he's not hinting around at the kind of systems of control he'll expand on to surreal effect in Dogtooth, The Lobster and elsewhere, Lanthimos enjoys provoking us visually.

The Japanese director has no shortage of ideas — chief among them the potential for advanced robotics to bring closure to the bereaved. But too few of those ideas yield satisfying conclusions, resulting in a drama that becomes treacly and insubstantial, reaching for a profundity that remains elusive.

Effie Gray is an exquisitely dreary slice of middlebrow armchair theater which adds little new to a much-filmed story.

Here is a film about Japan made by Americans, shot mostly in the U.S. and, of course, in English. Once you accept these compromises in the name of international filmmaking, none is a real deterrent to enjoying this lush period film.

The animation is splendid on what must have been, since this is not a studio film, a modest budget.

There is enough compelling adventure, awesome cinematography and dynamic stunt work involving horses to keep one entertained by Hidalgo.

Best appreciated for the winning performances of its trio of stars, who convey their characters' desperation with humor and poignancy.

In his 4:44 Last Day on Earth, the auteur imagines the apocalypse from an aging NYC hipster's perspective, hitting melancholy notes that may ring true for a small segment of the art-house audience but, without the compelling presence of Willem Dafoe, would have little hope at the box office.

What Amir Bar-Lev and Charlie Lightening’s documentary provides that hasn’t been previously available is an amusing portrait of the backstage goings-on.

Less an introduction to the green-burial movement than a portrait of one man who embraced it after being diagnosed with a terminal illness, A Will for the Woods is more sentimental than journalistic.

Despite its late shortcomings, Going Away demonstrates Garcia’s ability to coax strong performances out of a relatively young cast.

While Nicole Jefferson Asher's script often lapses into romantic melodrama, it also features incisive dialogue and characterization that lift Love Beats Rhymes above its formulaic aspects. RZA's straightforward, gimmick-free direction suits the material well and, not surprisingly, displays a keen sense of milieu.

Gomes proves an engaging subject, whose dedication is as inspiring as the breathtaking grace and strength of his dancing.

Juggernaut accumulates an undeniable raw power thanks to such elements as its bleak setting, evocatively captured in Patrick Scola's dark-hued cinematography; the jittery, strings and percussion-heavy musical score by Michelle Osis; and the excellent performances.

Although laughs do come... the film is happy to observe wryly as boredom and failure threaten to overwhelm the men.

Efficient enough to attract a cult audience.

The battle sequences in particular are stunningly rendered, and will certainly benefit from being viewed on the largest possible premium and large-format screens.

With an "Animal House"-ish deportment, Art School likely will entertain a sophomoric audience and etch some winning college-kid figures, but art house audiences will be disappointed by its paint-by-numbers storytelling.

Even with its well-observed moments, the movie’s nonmusical interactions, whether reaching for laughs or poignancy, too often feel flat and forced.

Even Wayne Campbell would blow chunks at "So I Married an Axe Murderer." Mike Myers' new vehicle suggests, with the "So" in the title, an off-handed, postmodern take on an overheated Roger Corman flick. But the film assumes anything but a wry, ironic tone -- it, and Myers in particular, try way too hard. The result is a sloppy, nearly two-hour riff on that tiredest of sitcom conceits -- the suspicion that a close comrade is hiding a dark secret. With generic characterizations and a far-too-easily solved mystery, the film will likely be passed over by audiences, who will wait to see Myers on the big screen again when he re-emerges from his Aurora, Ill., basement. [19 July 1993]

Short on both romance and humor.

The look, styles, dialogue and attitudes all feel more 21st century than 1968, but this new Sparkle still sparkles more brightly than its 1976 namesake, which was a sort of rough draft for Dreamgirls.

It plays like "Bonnie & Clyde" as made by a committee comprised of George Romero, Sam Peckinpah, Tobe Hooper, Sergio Leone and John Waters -- but Zombie still manages to inject a pervasive flavor all his own.

Some of these gags are hilarious.

Ends up having all the satisfying substance of a supermarket impulse item.

Hands of Stone is far from perfect, but it punches above its weight enough to prevent it from being easily dismissed.

It's the chemistry between Domhnall Gleeson and newcomer Will Tilston, as the awkwardly matched father and son, that makes the movie more than a mélange of inept parenting and Tigger too.

While the film doesn’t chart any particularly new territory, it benefits greatly from Franklin’s subtle screenplay and performances infusing it with emotional power that sneaks up on you.

What keeps the material from feeling too scattershot is the vitality of Cassel’s performance, which is full of life even when he’s not always in the best of health. He’s a much-needed charismatic center that almost manages to keep the entire enterprise together.

Stockholm, which gently massages actual events to serve as a fine vehicle for Noomi Rapace and Ethan Hawke, is far from the first movie to believably show a crime victim coming to sympathize with a criminal. But it's a funny and agile one.

It's virtually all Hemsworth's show and he's entirely up to the task of carrying the film on his broad shoulders: He's charismatic, fearless, confident, jokey and a good old Kentucky boy who just wants to get the job done and return home to his wife and daughter.

Woody's back on solid ground with his first memorable pic of the new millennium.

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

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.

Best of all is Holm, who is consistently hilarious as the sarcastic shrink from hell.

Cheesy reality shows monopolize the TV schedule, but must they infect our multiplexes as well? Love, Etc., Jill Andresevic's documentary depicting the romantic travails of various New Yorkers, is a disturbing example of a trend that is to be soundly discouraged.

Has its entertaining moments and boasts pungent performances from such supporting players as Ron Perlman and John C. McGinley, but never quite succeeds in managing its uncomfortable tonal shift from dark comedy to true-crime thriller.

Director Power orchestrates the thriller plot mechanics with reasonable skill, and the film’s concise 90-minute running time ensures that the pace never bogs down.

Obviously, being a dog lover goes a long way toward one’s enjoyment of Arthur the King. But even if you’re not, you won’t be able to resist this canine thespian who manages to convey a world of information merely through barks. And he doesn’t even need those.

Marino...is equally at home directing the broader physical comedy and sweeter bonding sequences between Maximo and Hugo, even as the overlong film's two distinct personalities never manage to coalesce into a self-contained whole.

Attaining somewhat of a bad parody of a comedy, screenwriters Andrew Fleming and Pam Brady have slapped together a string of gags in a hit-and-miss dither. Some of it is quite brainy.

Oroves nimbler and truer to its origins than last year's "Rodrick Rules."

Bruno is only intermittently funny and all too often the "ambushes" of celebrities and civilians look staged. The movie is even a tad -- dare we say it? -- tedious.

Watching Will Smith’s Mike and Martin Lawrence’s Marcus go through their familiar comedic bickering routines has become like spending an evening with a long-married couple whose constant sniping has grown wearisome.

The movie takes on the quality of a first-rate detective story.

A failed cinematic experiment mainly notable for its fine starring performance by a pre-"Juno" Ellen Page, The Tracey Fragments provides more evidence (not that any was needed) that an extensive use of split-screen visuals is far more irritating than arresting.

While Shearer admittedly makes an impassioned directorial debut, the film plays out like a data-heavy, extended investigative report with an academic emphasis on scientific findings over portraits of human suffering.

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

Even with its brief 93-minute running time, Strays feels thin and repetitive; after all, there are only so many times you can laugh at, say, a dog happily eating another’s dog vomit. But the film nonetheless delivers plenty of laughs, making up for many of its clunkers through sheer volume and the talents of its starry voice cast.

Brainy and balmy.

This is a slap-dash effort whose producers threw money and stunts onscreen instead of the satirical gags and one-liners that made the old spy spoof so memorable.

The threat posed by women who think for themselves to the absolute power of men is a central theme in this starch-free tale of Tudor intrigue, its protofeminist perspective seamlessly woven into the narrative fabric without a hint of the didactic.

For all its fandom and self-indulgence, Dear Mr. Watterson does offer some insightful musings about the decline of comic strips in general, with their content ever shrinking due to the diminished state of the newspaper industry.

The average age of the band's members is 62. They don't even bother to disguise that fact. These men look like your grandfather, right up until the downbeat. Then the magnificence of their playing sweeps away all concepts of age. Rock on.

Nutcrackers is not exactly robust as uplifting family comedies go, but for audiences willing to get in sync with Green’s free-flowing groove, the emotional payoff will be affecting.

Squanders its potentially rich possibilities.

While the supporting players fall victim to their broadly conceived roles, Baio and Minter underplay charmingly, and actually manage to make us care about their characters despite their less than credible aspects.

While Cox's typically sterling performance is not quite enough to rescue The Etruscan Smile from succumbing to bathos, it goes a long way toward making the film palatable.

Despite the assistance reality continues to give it, making an annual rite of government-sanctioned racial violence seem less far-fetched by the day (or by the tweet), Gerard McMurray's The First Purge still fails to establish a persuasive connection to our own moment in time — its occasional winks to current events serving as limp zingers instead of stinging commentary.

Almereyda puts together a slick-looking, well-paced package. But the central conceit simply doesn’t hang together well enough to create credible dramatic stakes, yielding an underpowered mashup of Sons of Anarchy with Game of Thrones.

The film is more of a character study than a full-fledged family drama, though one that benefits from strong, naturalistic performances by castmembers that seem to know one another all too well.