Cavalcade is a fine, splendid document of the folly and resultant decline of civilization through the tragedies of war. It is Noel Coward’s contribution to the cause of peace and, as such, it is effective historic pageantry.

James Whale has done a great job in his direction. This is not an easy thing to direct — just how far to go in playing upon an audience's credulity, it's sympathy, it's nerves. Whale seems to have gone far enough, but not too far.

While the endless introspection may be therapeutic for those involved, it's not so wonderful for the innocent onlooker, who's subjected to the ponderous musings of the emotionally catatonic group while a series of similarly vapid flashbacks offer little in the way of relief.

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.

The film’s first hour and last reels are now a not completely organic fit, taking things from an intimate and personal level to a global scale while skipping over an awful lot of things in between.

Both in the writing and performance, China is a finely wrought creation, a young lady of manners and a degree of taste but who has been given no guidance, rules, motivation or a stern hand.

Though it is convincingly played and sensually shot, the film has about as much narrative as the characters have parts of their bodies covered on the beach.

It’s all a little zany and overcooked and childish, which is perhaps why the series has been so popular with French tykes and is probably better fitted for 22-minute episodes than feature-length treatment.

The few instances of humor offer a welcome reprieve as the film's mood shifts from summery and sultry to increasingly dark and moody.

Shannon's contemplative but engaged performance is a good companion to 1980 Dylan, who in these concerts is far from standoffish.

Without taking any particular stand on whether the Russians decisively swung the result of the 2016 election or just nudged it along, the film makes it clear just how insidious, relentless and brazen their propaganda effort was, seeding memes that metastasized virulently throughout the world.

Loveling wisely avoids easy answers, and its deft mix of humor and melancholy never falters.

Through its droll combo of stillness and churning dysfunction, perfectly embodied by Drakopoulos, Pity deconstructs the artifice of feeling and, most wickedly, movie sentimentality.

Hackneyed and familiar — entirely unnecessary seems obvious — Motohiro again takes a property that’s been overworked (he helmed an endless series of Bayside Shakedown movies spun off from television) for a pedestrian sci-fi jaunt that brings nothing new to the table.

As deliciously evil and manipulative as Wai is as Madame Tang, The Bold, the Corrupt, and the Beautiful is also egregiously complicated, with so many rival families, ministers and ambitious industrialists crowding the story (often for a single scene) they start to blur into one forgettable lump; there’s a fine line between enigmatic and obfuscating.

A Woman Captured is more than promising as a debut, achieving a specially intense intimacy with its subject that pays unquestionable and welcome real-life dividends for all concerned

While the film as a three-hour whole feels unbalanced, a few heart-to-heart conversations between Daniele and Ze cut directly to the core of the material, exploring the uses of fiction and lies in situations like these.

A beautiful example of how a memorable film can be made on a shoestring.

The whole project breathes an air of sincerity and vitality that renders large sections of it instantly likable.

Quite enjoyable even if it leaves viewers hardly feeling they understand the enigmatic man at its heart, George will play well to lovers of esoteric art.

Jacquot has a hard time turning all of this into palpable drama, and Eva slides off the rails during a denouement that goes full on B-movie without much credibility.

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.

It's visually that Season of the Devil ranks among Diaz’s best work.

This study in weathering adversity and adjusting to what life hands you makes some worthy points about human and institutional callousness.

Kahn never offers an easy way out for Thomas, even if the finale tends to wrap things up in ways that seem a little too conclusive. But his film mostly explores, with steadfastness and moments of raw emotion, the crude uphill battle faced by junkies on the path to recovery.

Series woos fans by returning to its straight-horror roots.

A lean 91 minutes long, Cult of Chucky is part self-spoofing slasher, part lowbrow bloodbath and all guilty pleasure. There are plot holes here bigger than Trump Tower, and almost as ridiculous, but only the most joylessly wrong-headed film critic would waste mental energy unpicking them.

The film is lively and detailed enough so it is never boring, but it never takes off dramatically or realizes its intriguing possibilities either.