Diffuse and rambling, the documentary offers plenty of fascinating historical tidbits but lacks the breadth and depth to do justice to its complicated narrative.

Intensely present and real even in this sordid role, Ramazzotti shows she is growing into one of Italy's most versatile actresses, particularly in difficult proletarian roles like the one here. She is literally the best thing in this depressing, often shallow film.

There’s no real voice in the storytelling, nothing distinctive about the imagery, if it’s not a doubling up on the violence and gore, and the result doesn’t remotely resonate in the same way.

The starry chemistry of leads Ansel Elgort and Chloë Grace Moretz injects a modicum of energy into the coming-of-age drama, whose elements of romance, crime and smart-kid angst never coalesce.

Equal parts solemn and sappy, Euphoria marks a well-performed if extremely heavy-handed foray into English-language filmmaking for Swedish director Lisa Langseth.

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.

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.

Viewers who push through this silliness will be rewarded with an action climax that, while just about as ludicrous, is at least enjoyable.

Keating fails to effectively transmit his love of pushing the horror genre to new heights, with the result that we feel less gleefully complicit than merely voyeuristic. This is a case in which less would definitely have been more.

What begins as an examination of middle-class-mom exasperation — in which demanding some marital equality makes one not just a figurative "bitch" but a literal one — turns into a more commonplace bad-dad parable in Marianna Palka's off-kilter, largely off-target satire Bitch.

Despite his extensive action movie experience, director Johnny Martin (Vengeance: A Love Story) fails to invest the violence with much suspense. He also doesn't elicit the best work from his performers, with Urban and Snow unable to overcome their characters' stereotypical aspects.

Olin never wavers in her commitment. She's often extraordinary in individual moments.

An amiable misfire that (for better or worse) isn't quite as nutty as it sounds, Seth Henrikson's Pottersville pairs Yuletide cheer with the deviance of the Furry scene and an out-of-control hoax involving an ersatz Bigfoot.

Fortunately, there's Lively, adopting a convincing British accent, who almost, but not quite, manages to infuse the convoluted goings-on with enough gravitas to make them convincing.

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.

Maslow and Pepe's attractiveness and charm go a long way toward making the proceedings palatable. While we're never actually invested in the fate of their characters' relationship, they make the 90-minute running time go by fairly painlessly.

The performers' fine acting and vocal efforts (the film is almost entirely sung-through) are not enough to compensate for the vacuousness of the material.

Its running time is a mere 78 minutes, but the pic feels like it takes much longer getting to nowhere particularly interesting.

Only the least critical genre auds are likely to enjoy it much.

This is the sort of exasperating horror film that whips audiences into a frenzy. Not because they're having fun, mind you, but rather because the characters behave so stupidly and self-destructively that yelling profanity-laden advice to the screen becomes a bonding exercise.

Unsane is a dispiritingly pedestrian woman-in-peril shocker to have come from such a maverick filmmaker.

An airy, prettily accoutered but essentially vapid feature debut for writer-director Stephanie De Giusto.

Trafficking in familiar themes, Permission ultimately doesn't have anything very new to say about them.

[Beller's] deep-rooted empathy and compassion is plainly evident in her latest effort, but it's not enough to compensate for the tedium engendered by the meandering debates whose impact ultimately adds up to very little.

At its core is a well-intentioned message about inclusivity and valuing inner beauty, but the film, adapted from the 2012 YA best-seller by David Levithan (albeit with a problematic perspective shift), remains stuck in a stubborn rut somewhere between confusing and snooze-inducing.

It should be a pulse-racing account of knife-edge real-life conflict and valiant heroics, full of needling political questions. Instead it's merely another slack thriller with underdeveloped characters and sputtering dramatic momentum.

The formulaic writing and stilted direction conspire to bring the movie, and these talents, down time and time again.

No doubt everyone can relate to the central idea of wondering about the purpose of the mementos we leave behind or those we discover after a death in the family. But a promising theme does not necessarily make for a satisfying movie.