There’s no heart in this movie, no urgency.

What makes Phantom Boy unique isn’t the questions it asks, but the way it asks them and the answers it arrives at.

In embracing the disorienting quality present in Frank’s work, 'Don’t Blink' is but an abstract portrait, muddled by a jarring messiness.

The Infiltrator is ultimately a solid, if not exceptional, Scorsese takeoff, one that has just enough spunk and wit to make up for its often-apparent shortcomings.

Hooligan Sparrow is a vital reminder of the importance of artistic and journalistic freedom, and that telling certain stories can be an inherently perilous proposition — especially when those stories reveal something that the government would rather keep under wraps.

Not even the funniest actors on the planet could save what is an occasionally humorous, but largely unremarkable rehash.

A true blue dark comedy that isn’t so concerned with its darkness that it forgets to be laugh-out-loud silly at times too, “In Order of Disappearance” is a bitter, bloody treat for the black of heart.

I can respect the intent to craft The Legend of Tarzan as a new chapter for the hero, one which is aware of all the shortcomings of many Tarzan stories that have gone before. And yet the film minimizes its own best ideas and falls back on adventure film tropes, old and new, in a way that undermines its attempt to decontextualize Burroughs’ aging swinger.

Everyone here means well and wants to make an epic war film, but it lacks a narrative strong enough to make it essential viewing for those beyond the genre’s fans.

The picture’s strength is in its honesty.

It’s a fascinating look not only at this particular character and his wide reach, but at the evolution of the Internet, its utopian possibilities for connection, and the dark side of its power to expose and harm individuals within the system.

Even when it’s in the shadow of other movies that have traversed this territory to greater effect, the talented young performers at hand bring a rooted sense of reality that still makes it sing with rhapsodic gravitas.

It is easy to feel the passion with which Yadav tells the story, and to feel intimately connected with her characters, even in the midst of heavy-handed and almost bloated commentary, which sometimes feels a bit too blatantly thrown in.

Bidegain certainly scores points for ambition with his first film, and in scenes or snippets...you can see what he was aiming for. Unfortunately, by the time it’s done, Les Cowboys feels like a missed opportunity.

By focusing entirely on Zappa’s outlook on his own work and the way it related to the outside world, Schütte manages to form a tight narrative around this fascinating man.

My Love, Don’t Cross That River serves as a testament that romantic love can endure, particularly when it is nurtured by people who care deeply for one another and don’t hesitate to show that feeling with every breath.

This lack of visual energy, combined with the choice to forgo a score, leaves little to buoy the moments needed to propel the film toward its inevitable close. But where Land And Shade shines is in its outrage, and the heartbroken fury at the center of the film.

Any time the duo build up a significant amount of energy, the messy mechanics of the story come barreling in, shifting the narrative attention to the tedious developments involving encryption keys, which is nothing more than a Macguffin to begin with.

The animated story finds true buoyancy in its social value rather than its creative frontiers. Has the movie reinvented the animation game or Pixar’s standing within it? Far from it, but Finding Dory is a well-told promise that individuality and self acceptance always win.

With an enjoyable atmosphere, solid performances from Hawke, Travolta, Farmiga, and one gifted canine, In A Valley of Violence ends up a solid entry in a genre gradually fading from mainstream cinema.

A thriller so turgid that its setting in logging country starts to feel like heavy irony: Lord, does it lumber.

Arguably the most persuasive and compelling of Ferguson’s films to date, Time To Choose is an imperative, essential essay on our climate change crisis, and if it ever feels didactic, it’s counterpointed by its very real and very human nature.

Fans of high octane, fast-paced martial arts action might be bored with the deliberately calculating style of The Final Master, but those who look for a more patient and meditative experience within the genre will get more than their money’s worth.

Your mileage will vary on Genius, depending on where you place Law’s performance on the irritating/entertaining spectrum and your tolerance for somewhat formulaic tales of creative ego and “The Price of Fame.”

Filled with plenty of ideas and a strong sense of identity, The Witness can still be somewhat unfocused, unfolding in a multitude of directions, but failing to provide a complete portrait about Kitty and her life, which is a truly fascinating one.

Art Bastard is a respectful and affectionate look into the life of a true outsider in the art world.

It’s successful in its aims and will ably bring the book’s readers and romance fans both joy and tears.

Unlike some mock biopics or music documentaries that rely on a particular kind of specificity to succeed, Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping is universally, gloriously stupid. And that’s not a slight — it takes a considerable amount of smarts to make something that so winningly observes the ridiculous facade of the pop music sphere, but gives it a wide-ranging reach.