A monologue delivered by a senator played by Richard Dreyfuss is so clunky, that he might as well have broken the fourth wall in order to make sure the audience understood that his speech was supposed to represent the a major theme in the story.

Ultimately, the main source of power behind The Second Mother is found in its effortless skips between character study, family drama, and silent socioeconomic warfare. The final result is a gleaming cinematic treasure as heartwarming as the film's final reassuring smile.

When the script isn't working, Evans turns towards the soundtrack and leans on indie rock when he can (and when the low-budget picture can afford it) to attempt to do some of the emotional lifting.

At its heart, Welcome to Leith is about change and how toxic decisions and beliefs can irreparably ruin bystanders’ lives.

Finders Keepers tries to find the humanity in the absurd, and while it surely has its share of moving moments, the conciliation of the sensational and profound is hard to reconcile.

McNamara attempts to keep the movie ticking right along, and for all its half-cocked plotlines, Ashby is able to maintain a consistently humorous and light tone.

It's a wonderful thing to experience a film unshackled from Hollywood conventionality and unburdened by the necessity for simplistic storytelling.

Return to Sender proves to be nothing but dead air, an entirely too predictable, slow-paced, and misguided genre effort.

Chris Farley deserves a film that can see him for his gifts and his flaws. So, while I Am Chris Farley is an interesting portrait of a comedian, here’s to holding out for something more.

Cary Bell’s Butterfly Girl is no reality TV show segment, it’s painstaking reality itself, told in confident style.

Ultimately too busy fracturing his story’s focus and indulging in gimmicky textual graphics to really tap into either Hollywood’s or electronica’s magnetic appeal, Joseph’s debut proves to be a film with mood to spare but nothing much to say.

A preposterous, monotonous action saga primarily notable for boasting a miscast lead and advancing a less-than-tolerant geopolitical fantasy.

The seeds of a sequel sprout in the film’s lasting final shot, but perhaps with a look further into Ted’s future, a narrative to match the mood will emerge as well.

Best of Enemies succeeds on utilitarian terms: it does what it’s supposed to.

The documentary, like its subject, is unapologetically dazzling.

Ill-defined, overlong and wandering with unlikable leads (even Alan is too feeble and useless to sympathize with), The Mend would be a disaster if it weren't for the fact that the lack of vision is marginally absorbing in a kind train wreck, “will this movie ever reveal what the hell it’s about?”-like manner.

Featuring none of its predecessor’s sumptuous pitch-black visuals and sense of creeping dread, Ciaran Foy’s follow-up is a misbegotten venture at every turn, in large part because it follows the horror sophomore rulebook so closely.

It’s the first feature film for director Aleksander Bach, and he shares the blame with the pair of screenwriters. His creation is a muddled mess that is briefly lifted by some fun set pieces, but never is more impressive than a 108-minute Audi commercial.

It wants to be cute, it wants to cool, and it also wants to be thoughtful and engaging, but Sam de Jong is unable to make the story feel tight and focused enough to allow it to succeed on all those levels.

American Ultra hopes to leave you both shellshocked and blissfully stoned, but as perfect storm of aggressively repulsive choices, it’s a queasy bad trip worth avoiding at all costs.

It has warmth, it has flashes of insight, it even has moments of wit, all it really lacks is edge — which it lacks in large, whopping, huge amounts.

The silent scenes, which hold so much power in the first act, feel emptier and emptier, as the conclusion nears. Moments where Halpern’s score felt like it was adding to what was on screen, turn to moments where it’s compensating for the lack of interest.

Ritchie manages a promising first act. But at the whim of the action movie formula, and ostensibly nothing else, priorities shift as the story carries forward. When we’re asked later on to attend to escalating stakes and a dimming tone, we’re simply left wondering what happened to all the fun.

Hayek's passion project is a stimulating success for the senses.

A contemplative look into one man’s life, Homme Less has resonance beyond just Mark Reay.

Every time the picture opens a fascinating door, you're held back from going through by a naff filmmaking choice or a rote story move.

In turning his back on the familiar tropes of blockbuster comic book movies, Trank doesn't have a clear new identity for Fantastic Four to distinguish itself with, and the result is a movie rich with possibilities, but trapped in the basic structure of a superhero movie, with no idea of how to wholly circumvent traditional expectations.

The true star of The Gift is Edgerton as director. His deft, controlled maneuvering of plot, character, style, and tone is damn near perfect for his feature debut — even if it is in service of a very standard genre piece.