It’s not unpleasant, thanks to the energetic dialogue and songs, but it lacks the fun and focus that made “Pitch Perfect” such a surprise hit worthy of repeat viewings.

You may hate All The Money In The World, and you would be well within your rights to feel that way, but there’s no denying that the film is bold and ballsy.

The Tribes of Palos Verdes privileges melodrama over nuance, pitting skilled actors against a humdrum script and sketchy roles. It doesn’t offer anything new, and bungles any mildly interesting plot points.

“Star Wars” has always been about destiny, fate, and legacy. However, perhaps like no film in the franchise yet, The Last Jedi seriously considers the hubris that comes with certainty, and how knots from the past that can keep you bound from moving forward.

As awful as the events of 1944 were for her, there’s ultimately hope in her story in how it fueled a movement and continues to inspire and push people today.

It is Olshefski’s humanist portraiture of one family’s quotidian lives that is certain to stir audiences.

[Anderson's] unobtrusive aesthetic, calibrated to highlight his actors and, of course, the fashion, belies its deceptive luxuriousness. This is a movie you’ll want to live in for the pure joy of reveling in Anderson’s effortless mastery.

Spielberg ever-so-gently presses on the gas of nostalgic idealism enough times that he blemishes what might have been a pitch-perfect movie.

Arthur Miller: Writer does not radically reappraise Miller’s life or work, but the personal details will make it intriguing for long time fans and it can serve as an excellent introduction for a younger generation.

Despite a slightly silly premise and a script that plays it fast and loose with increasingly ridiculous scenarios, director Brian Crano‘s sincere and funny Permission manages to charm and impress thanks to the largely committed and above-average cast of Rebecca Hall and Dan Stevens.

This film might not blow you away, but it is unique, and it will make you laugh. And ultimately, that’s all you really need from an indie comedy.

Too mediocre to become a new classic, it’s easy to be dismissive of the film’s cheap pleasures, but through its good heart and giving spirit, The Man Who Invented Christmas does, in part, capture what makes the holiday season such a joyous time.

By time Justice League gets to the finish line and credits — stick around, there is an abysmal mid-credits scene, and a decent enough post-credits scene — exhaustion has long set in.

Wonder promotes the benefits of human decency in a time when those virtues feel limited, and wins you over by being a pretty good film about being good — and that’s good enough for it to work.

Thankfully, Coco, Pixar’s latest original work and one of their very best, truly does transport you. The results are magical and feel somewhat rebellious given the current political climate, which makes the film feel even more special.

A vacuous and generally indifferent effort that lacks even the watered down spark and inspiration of its ho-hum 2015 original...this seasonal comedy sequel is a fruitless, frustrating nothingburger of tired dysfunctional family tropes and conservative-minded family values.

Overlong and joyless, it’s the cinematic equivalent of a giant, opulent express train trapped in the snow, heaving and off balance. Buy another ticket. Skip this train.

Gibney’s movie points fingers not just at the people it argues carried out the killing, but the highly-placed figures who covered up for them.

Through intimate access, personalized interviews and mostly sympathetic portrayals of select people inside the White House, Barker isn’t trying to be objective.

The primary reason that Along For The Ride is not the seminal film of the life of the late, great Dennis Hopper, is that the doc is, ostensibly, the story of Satya de la Manitou, Hopper’s life-long friend and right-hand man.

It’s far from a perfect, or even great, film, but 1945 is certainly both commendable and recommendable. It has something to say about complicity of everyday people in the crimes of society, and says so in a fairly quiet, methodical, unassuming (if a bit obvious) way.

Although the film depicts a fledgling psychopath salvaging roadkill with his bare hands, soaking them in acid in order to collect their bones and finding himself flirting with murderous intentions on several occasions, Meyers’ drama is paradoxically humane and affecting — a direction few thought was possible when deliberating the essence of a real-life monster.

It’s one of the most refreshing and satisfying Marvel movies in some time, precisely because its willing to do many things that Marvel hasn’t done before.

It’s fun, has two engaging actors giving two fantastic performances, and may even scare you once or twice (though I kinda sorta doubt it).

Ultimately, Thank You For Your Service is commendable and, well, serviceable. But it’s more of an honorable discharge rather than something you fete with medals of esteem.

Through its fine performances, considerate direction and character-focused writing, Only the Brave goes above your average biopic to present something that’s poignant and endearingly familiar, letting Kosinski provide that hard-wrought emotional impact lost in his previous films, while still allowing him to showcase his talents for visuals and location.

What is, at its outset, a rather charming film about the world-famous card mechanic Richard Turner and the obstacles he has overcome, winds up being a searching study of the painful nature of coming to terms with your own vulnerabilities.

At its heart, Jane is powerful feminist statement about a woman’s passion for and dedication to her career in the face of structural opposition.

With some films, you can tell where one or two things went wrong — perhaps a decision in script, or a performance that’s off base — but The Snowman is the rare movie where for every choice, there was a better way to go.

1922 is a ghastly slow burner, not the kind where nothing happens until the last ten minutes, but rather the kind that layers minor incident upon minor incident until they tally up to something major.

This is an imperfect, if entirely beautiful, film.

Through sheer force of filmmaking will and mediation on what it means to be self-aware, Villeneuve’s towering picture still manages to inspires awe and contains profoundly beautiful moments.

Characters make a lot of absurdly dumb decisions in this movie.

Beautifully shot, touchingly performed and delivered with a thrillingly atmospheric sense of place, Heartstone lets us meditate on these themes during that long last summer, when childhood seems like it’s going to extend, agonizingly, forever, only for it to be snapped abruptly away like a shout on the wind.

In its deeply affecting final moments, where Linklater beautifully folds the movie’s threads and themes, Last Flag Flying coalesces into a poignant portrait of honor, the bonds of brotherhood and coming to terms with mortality.

There’s no shortage of “Goodfellas” wannabes out there, but American Made is a serviceably entertaining one with consistent action and hearty chuckles along the way.

Gerald’s Game is a symphony of suspense and scares, spiked with just the right amount of gruesome gore.

Though undeniably watchable...Mateo Gil’s film fails to rise above the well-trodden genre film language nor does it meaningfully contribute to its central existential questions on mortality .

Ninjago is mildly entertaining, and kids should find it pleasurable enough, but it’s missing that special spark, the kind of joyful flicker that compels children to ask for the movie on DVD at Christmas

Lucky is a film perfectly nuanced for Stanton but executed in its full potential by none other — it’s a sobering portrait dedicated to one of cinema’s greatest actors.

Vaughn’s film is overflowing with big set pieces, but all those epic action sequences amount to a running time clocking nearly two and a half hours – and not much else. Like fireworks, they’re awe-inspiring while you’re watching, but there’s little left to marvel at after the show’s over.

Professor Marston And The Wonder Women tackles one of the most curious chapters of comic book history with an overly classy sheen.

Victoria & Abdul is a movie that flirts with exploring prejudice, cultural tension, power, and religion, but never really consummates the ideas. At best, it tries to humorously dismantle the absurdity of empires and royalty, but that’s about as subversive as it gets.

Trier crafts a drama that is sublimely ambiguous, austere and also deeply sad and heartbreaking.

Stronger feels genuine and certainly has the right intentions, but never converts to something truly enlivening.

Gilroy has fashioned a character study that has moments that are incredibly well written.... What’s extremely disappointing is that the screenplay’s through line is simply not that interesting.

The Mountain Between Us isn’t a bad movie, overall. The scenery’s gorgeous, the two leads are enormously appealing, and nothing about the dialogue or visual style particularly grates. This is an easy picture to watch… and to root for, in a way, because it’s so rarely overbearing. But it’s only ever mildly engaging.

Sorkin’s swordsman-like pen continually keeps the picture engaging; his knack for one-liners and absurd dialogue detail remains finely attuned.

Mark Felt: The Man Who Brought Down The White House couldn’t be more timely, yet those parallels never quite resonate.

It’s a lovely, gracious, soul-satisfying thing.

This is cinematic intimacy in the best manner for the worst of all reasons.

If not for Sareum’s charismatic performance the film might fold like a house of cards.

Filmmaking craft is not the issue here, it’s the timidity of the storytelling that sits in sharp contrast to the boldness of some of the visual and sonic experimentation.

Brad’s Status rarely affords its titular character an opportunity to have a real conversation with anyone else his own age, so the movie becomes a monologue from someone you quickly realize you don’t really want to get to know anyway.

The conflicts are obviously real, but there is something about the tone that’s just off through most of the picture.

What immediately comes to the forefront is that McDonagh has choreographed an almost impossible feat of a brutally dark comedy that, thanks to both Rockwell and McDormand, elicits an emotional response you simply don’t see coming.

“Five Foot Two” is mostly about a woman pushing forward with her career in pain, and we’re talking chronic literal pain.

There are two things that make this movie stand apart: Metcalf and Gerwig.

Mahaffy’s uncompromising approach, and the quality of its performances, make it a rare and valuable testament: to the terrible danger of believing in miracles, and to the cruelty of a world that might make such belief necessary.

The worst aspect of ‘Rebel’ is that Strong seems to have no vision as a filmmaker. The movie thinks it’s throwing in some wise words about the art of writing, but they are superficial at best.

Despite some flat moments, Nobody’s Watching is consistently engrossing,

Even with these minor complaints, it’s hard to deny that It is anything but a triumph. The craftsmanship is impeccable, the performances incredibly strong..., and the fidelity to the source material, in spirit more than specificity, is admirable and appreciated. Had the story given even more time to breathe, it would have been one of the greatest Stephen King adaptations ever. As it stands, it’s simply a very good one.

mother! is something truly magnificent, the kind of visceral trash-arthouse experience that comes along very rarely, means as much or as little as you decide it does, and spits you out into the daylight dazzled, queasy, delirious, and knock-kneed as a newborn calf.

Uneven though it is, the film is peppered with enough cherishable dialogue tics and dummkopf punchlines to make it a enjoyable watch.

Few would argue that Oldman isn’t one of the finest actors of his generation, but this is a tour de force portrayal that will define his body of work for decades to come.

Silveira sets herself up for a balance between realism and aesthetics that she can’t quite navigate.

Without a single weak link in the exceptional cast...it’s a film that makes you feel a lot. But overridingly you feel lucky — lucky to be watching it, lucky that something so sincerely sweet, sorrowfully scary and surpassingly strange can exist in this un-wonderful world, and desirous of hanging on to as much of its magic for as long as you can after you reemerge back onto dry land.

Heady, bold statements about humankind are both the film’s best aspect and its chief flaw: There are just so many of them.

Disengaged and detached, the film’s greatest crime may be its inability to make any kind of impression.

Pilgrimage has all of the parts of a strong, engaging film. It just never learns how best to fit those pieces together.

Maybe if the film gave us the relief of a satisfying ending, the grimness, the ickiness, wouldn’t be so pronounced. But it doesn’t.

If the film is tender, it’s merciless at the same time.

Wingard’s film is an incoherent mess of tones and styles, confused character motives, and murky narratives.

Even in a future bereft of new ideas, it’s fun to watch Noomi Rapace act against herself six times over and her game performances in the midst of fast-paced action make What Happened to Monday? a mostly enjoyable thriller.

It’s not merely that The Only Living Boy in New York is reductive, corny and uninvolving; it’s that it tries to be something more profound and enlightened than it actually is.

It’s not an easy movie to love and it’s not an easy movie to hate either. It’s annoyingly, persistently just okay.

Unfortunately, some fumbled melodrama and the thorny issue of nationalism that hung over Hayao Miyazaki’s “The Wind Rises” compromise the finer impulses in In This Corner of the World.

In only his second film, it’s evident that Chon possesses a forcible voice for storytelling and a keen eye for character building.

Wherever you may fall on its ending, The Wound is a movie worth watching for myriad reasons, not least of which is the fact that it’s as emotionally and dramatically compelling as any American indie to come out this year. Seek it out and see it on the big screen.

Delightfully twisted, Thirst Street takes the ideas of desire, romantic longing and desperation — desperation as the world’s worst cologne — and bathes it in a sheen of frosty colors, genuine vulnerability and sardonic unkindness.

Intimate, but never actually involving, The Glass Castle at least has admirable performances to watch.

This isn’t a movie about despair in the face of seemingly implacable problems; it’s about the heavy lifting that constant hope requires. Disappointingly, that surging energy which animates the activists profiled here, in ways both intimate and caught-on-the-fly, never coalesces into the desired blueprint for reform.

If anything can happen (and, trust me, it does), then there’s never a way of predicting where the next scare will come from. And for a genre that oftentimes feels threadbare and hopelessly predictable, this cannot be commended enough.

The movie has its flaws, but they’re tough to remember in the face of the fun it provides for two hours.

Brigsby Bear is easily the biggest surprise film of the year and is worth every laugh and tear that it brings.

With a deep understanding of the connective power of cinema, Weinstein manages to present this little Hasidic community upon relatable grounds by giving us Menashe, a resonant human being full of relatable pains in the face of a lifestyle kept secret.

The Dark Tower is a tepid non-starter from minute one.

Message from the King isn’t a chore to watch by any means; and there are moments that suggest the more colorful neo-noir that might’ve been.

If nothing else, Reybaud’s debut flaunts his knack for casting, particularly with the lead performance by Pascal Cervo.

While Detroit may try and cover too much ground, thus occasionally stumbling on its ambition, the sheer visceral power of Bigelow’s direction is worth championing.

This is a brilliantly constructed, whip-smart, and laugh-out-loud-funny romp from a filmmaker whose precision and craft is nearly unparalleled. It’s hard to think of a movie this year that has been as singularly delightful, one that, with each passing moment, reveals something charming or odd or real.

The Midwife is often unexpectedly funny and sweet. The film is more a celebration of life and its pleasures, big and small, rather than dwelling on death

If nothing else, think of it as a hilariously repugnant curio, the kind of transgressive art you’ll be unable to unpack because you’ll be too busy chugging ginger ale to bother.

It’s a chilling, assured debut for writer/director Power, packed with promise and a startlingly mundane sort of violence which is all the more shocking for its realism.

There have been countless films this summer that have engaged in endless spectacle but Dunkirk is the rare blockbuster that will leave a bruise.

Lemon is too in love with being oddball to really have any connection to the real, non-quirky world. And so while scene-by scene its absurdism can be drolly amusing, it never coheres into anything more than a series of sketches.

While it does pay beyond fair deference to the science behind coral reefs and their devastation, its real strength lies within the pathos generated by the visuals that showcase the exact nature of their precarious state.

For all the tepid pacing and uneven storytelling, though, Collins and co. do a great job of making To The Bone a watchable film. They are, by turns, charming and heartbreaking — even when they aren’t given much to do by the script.