However well Sharper is put together, the sum of its parts doesn’t quite add up, and it’s hard to ignore that something that laughs in the face of a linear narrative, and embraces bold complexities, feels too flat and par for the course.

If you go into Little Dixie expecting nothing more than to watch Grillo take out some bad guys, you’ll be more than satisfied with the ride “Dixie” has to offer. Just don’t go in expecting anything more.

This high-concept horror too easily crosses over from charmingly erratic to nonsensical.

Both breezy and deeply emotional, Brosh McKenna’s directorial debut could be a leader in the rom-com renaissance the movies have so desperately needed.

There’s not a single moment in the film that is palpably authentic or genuinely romantic, but the ensemble nonetheless puts their pluckiest foot forward.

What the script thinks is unique about itself is all surface level, resulting in a film that feels like a copy of a copy of something that maybe once had been original but now feels as fake as a wax figurine.

As the title suggests, Swallowed gives you something to chew on, but apart from a few shining and delicious morsels, it’s less of a feast and more of an underwhelming meal.

The two creative engines of the series might seem like strange bedfellows — the brainy Soderbergh and the brawny Tatum — but the duo brings out the best in each other. The director appreciates the earnestness of his leading man and finds ways to deepen that charm through quick-witted humor.

Knock at the Cabin does not disappoint. It’s a movie that reminds us why Shyamalan is one of contemporary cinema’s greatest alchemists and a prime example of a filmmaker at his best and boldest.

When a horror movie goes out of its way to make its viewers feel as terrible as “In My Mother’s Skin” does, then that movie might just as well make feeling terrible worth it. Dagatan’s eye for gnarly practical and CG effects is buttressed by solid visual sensibilities, occasionally hamstrung by stray washed-out nighttime sequences, and wicked morality.

The rom-com is a rich and vital love story that breaks the mold with its visual acumen and bright spirit. “Rye Lane” doesn’t gesture toward an awkward cool; it’s an effortlessly cool picture that finds glee in the sights and sounds of these characters’ lush surroundings.

The subjects of Kokomo City are quote machines, but their strength is that they make you listen to what they are actually saying and digest their opinions. Oh, no, they are not just here to entertain you. Points will be made.

There’s a curious shortage of honest-to-goodness laughs in Finley’s script; the humor is strained, and it doesn’t really land as science-fiction either. ... “Landscape with Invisible Hand” is, at best, an ambitious failure.

Watching Georgie embrace what’s making her vulnerable and realizing that doesn’t make her powerless is moving, and seeing this father and daughter connect is sweet. She, of course, will never let go of her fast-talking, hustling nature, but she now doesn’t have to do it alone.

On the surface, Talk to Me is a blast of demonic horror that will make your skin crawl. Underneath, it offers a new twist on the teen horror film that explores the complexities of grief and the transition from childhood to adulthood.

Park proves to be a director with style and wit to spare, staging revelatory sequences that walk the narrow line between comedy and provocation.

Adroit casting, writing, editing, performing and costuming shade the outline of an affair to a finely sharpened emotional realism, the cycles of fighting and reconciling we’ve all seen before regaining in rawness as if we’re now the ones living through it.

This little miracle of a film features a strong ensemble cast, mordant Southern humor, and sharp insights into the perils and comforts of loving with your whole heart

While the third act makes a few wonky choices, and the ending comes together a little too neatly, there’s no denying its impact.

Disappointingly, and despite the best intentions, Durham’s overwritten script diminishes some potentially truly moving moments over the course of the picture. There is simply too much clunky exposition.

This is a staggering achievement, the sort of nonfiction project that takes unfathomable guts and skill.

There’s no denying the weight of The Persian Version’s final sequence. Yet, it’s an ending that feels rushed, both because of the sequence’s continual tonal shifts between heartfelt drama and slapstick comedy but also because Leila’s final bout of emotional maturity feels unearned.

The best news is that the songs, by Galvin, Gordon, Lieberman, Platt, and Mark Sonnenblick (“Spirited,” “Lyle Lyle Crocodile”) were written beforehand. Those compositions contribute to the one-time-only musical performance that practically saves the movie. The songs and staging of the show are simply hilarious.

While A Thousand and One is a breathtakingly beautiful portrait of Black womanhood and is thoughtfully political, the character beats heave with a noticeable unevenness. The fascinating parts rarely add up to a satisfying interpersonal whole.

Sometimes Leaf asks us to see too much. But Earth Mama is grounded enough and empathetic enough to be worth the bleak toll it exacts.

If we’re being honest, Carney isn’t breaking new ground here, and I keep waiting for him to make a movie that will finally fully exhaust his Whole Thing. But Flora and Son is not that movie.

Eileen leaves one wondering whether there was supposed to be an additional 20 minutes to the movie somewhere that someone accidentally deleted.

It’s genuinely thrilling to watch a filmmaker with a specific voice and oddball style taking genuine risks, and the way she successfully navigates these tonal transitions, how she cuts the cynicism with sincerity and vice versa – well, it’s kind of miracle.